For the entirety of seven centuries, the beauty of the Lusatian Mountains has been reflected in the work of local glassmakers. That is why it is said to be a fragile beauty. Fragile as the memories of ancient oaks guarding the rolling hills. Of glassmakers' paths cut into sandstone hillsides, of forests full of beech trees, nodding their crowns in disbelief at the hustle and bustle of human life. Of wild meadows covered in tall grass that softly tickles the palms of your hands as you walk, whispering of secrets hidden in every step.
Chandeliers crafted in the Lusatian Mountains illuminate conference and cultural halls, palaces, and grand spaces all around the world. You can find on private yachts where they dance to the rhythm of the sea waves, but also hanging quietly and with dignity in public places such as airports, churches, or mosques. Their intricate elements reflect the sun 24 hours a day, from the West, across the African continent, to the near and distant Orient.
Just as in the past, the Lusatian Mountains are nowadays interwoven with a network of small, inconspicuous workshops in the houses of local glassmakers and glass cutters, grinders, jewellery makers, and jewellery designers. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, and with new generations of young, progressive glassmakers, they continue to grow. All you have to do is call, ring the bell, knock, wait for the gas fires to dim and noisy grinders to quieten, and then choose from a fresh selection of various shapes and colours.
There are not many of them left in the world, but here, in the Lusatian Mountains, you can find several of them in a small area. Even though they smell like hell and look like it, too, these are the places where heavenly beautiful glass pieces are brought into the world by the skilful hands and powerful mouths of glassmakers. Metallurgical glass does not only come in the shape of vases, bowls, jugs, or glasses, but also glass elements for modern chandeliers.
They can use glass to create even the head of a deer with its majestic antlers. They can create glass altars before which even an atheist will kneel in sheer awe. They can lighten and brighten even the most lavish mansions with glass design features and make even the most unique places on Earth shine with splendour. The art of glassmakers that come from the Lusatian Mountains does not always let itself be bound by form. These artists know very well how to give freedom to matter, elevating it from it from utility to art.
Here in Lužické Hory, we can still make historical glass, including the most famous kind, the so-called forest glass. Our replicas of goblets, glasses, jugs, and bowls from ancient times are ordered from us all over Europe. We supply them to castles, chateaus, craft fairs, as well as private collectors. This allows us to learn what glass used to look like in the past while preserving the exquisite craft of glassmaking for future generations of its practitioners.
Chandelier makers have been at home in the Lusatian Mountains for many centuries. That is why it is unimaginable that the local sanctuaries would be illuminated in any other way than by magnificent chandeliers from local workshops. The divine gaze reflected in the glittering elements of local chandeliers can be seen in the church in Kamenický Šenov, Prysk, or Jablonné in Podještědí.
Here in Lužické Hory, we can still make historical glass, including the most famous kind, the so-called forest glass. Our replicas of goblets, glasses, jugs, and bowls from ancient times are ordered from us all over Europe. We supply them to castles, chateaus, craft fairs, as well as private collectors. This allows us to learn what glass used to look like in the past while preserving the exquisite craft of glassmaking for future generations of its practitioners.
They can use glass to create even the head of a deer with its majestic antlers. They can create glass altars before which even an atheist will kneel in sheer awe. They can lighten and brighten even the most lavish mansions with glass design features and make even the most unique places on Earth shine with splendour. The art of glassmakers that come from the Lusatian Mountains does not always let itself be bound by form. These artists know very well how to give freedom to matter, elevating it from it from utility to art.
Chandeliers crafted in the Lusatian Mountains illuminate conference and cultural halls, palaces, and grand spaces all around the world. You can find on private yachts where they dance to the rhythm of the sea waves, but also hanging quietly and with dignity in public places such as airports, churches, or mosques. Their intricate elements reflect the sun 24 hours a day, from the West, across the African continent, to the near and distant Orient.
Just as in the past, the Lusatian Mountains are nowadays interwoven with a network of small, inconspicuous workshops in the houses of local glassmakers and glass cutters, grinders, jewellery makers, and jewellery designers. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, and with new generations of young, progressive glassmakers, they continue to grow. All you have to do is call, ring the bell, knock, wait for the gas fires to dim and noisy grinders to quieten, and then choose from a fresh selection of various shapes and colours.
Chandelier makers have been at home in the Lusatian Mountains for many centuries. That is why it is unimaginable that the local sanctuaries would be illuminated in any other way than by magnificent chandeliers from local workshops. The divine gaze reflected in the glittering elements of local chandeliers can be seen in the church in Kamenický Šenov, Prysk, or Jablonné in Podještědí.
There are not many of them left in the world, but here, in the Lusatian Mountains, you can find several of them in a small area. Even though they smell like hell and look like it, too, these are the places where heavenly beautiful glass pieces are brought into the world by the skilful hands and powerful mouths of glassmakers. Metallurgical glass does not only come in the shape of vases, bowls, jugs, or glasses, but also glass elements for modern chandeliers.
The milky veil of morning fog is gradually rising, only slowly revealing the peaks of the Lusatian Mountains. However, at the glassworks, the work is already in full swing. The place has been swarming like an anthill since five in the morning. In summer months, the work starts even earlier, so that the workers can go home before the heat from the furnaces becomes unbearable. That is why glassmakers have to drink a lot, all the time. They replenish what they sweat out in an eight-hour shift. The shift – “šichta” – ends with a “fajrumt” (ger. Feierabend) at around 2 pm.
Before the glassmakers start their day, the glass furnace is already blazing hot. The glass in the big pan inside the furnace resembles a mush-like substance. It is already coloured and free of all impurities. These are pulled from the surface with a tool called kleslo. Once it is ready, a pruba is conducted, which can be understood as a test. A mass of glass is scooped out of the pan onto a blow pipe and blown in to see how much dirt and air bubbles are in it.
The so-called huťafle are easy to kick off of your feet in case a burning-hot glass shard falls into them. They are leather slippers that you pull up over your ankles. Their ventilation holes make them ideal footwear for the verštat. They do not slip on the worn plank floor, protect the foot from burns, and are not easily punctured. When the foreman at the top of the verštat stomps his huťafle on the ground, he signals the glassworker below him to open the beech mould. The glass on the pipe was blown out and gained its shape.
Verštat is the glassmakers' ballroom – a raised stage made of wooden planks around the glass furnace. In the morning before the šichta, the floor of the verštat is splashed with water, washing the dirt from the previous day away and setting the stage for a fresh start. Steps, turns, stamping… it is really a kind of a dance. The leader sets the pace, while the others follow suit. Scoop the molten glass onto the blow pipe, pre-blow the bulb, work it, and finally hand it to the master to be finished. Meanwhile, the worker under the floor is already opening the beech mould, in which the glass spinning on the pipe, now in the hands of the master, disappears in a cloud of steam.
Do not even think of threatening the glassblowers with hell, for they would simply laugh in your face. They have been staring at it through a hole in the furnace all shift. When the molten glass is not being scooped, the hole is closed with a placka. When the work starts again, the placka is moved aside and the zobák comes into play. The glassmaker rests his long blow pipe against its notches, using it to scoop molten glass from the pan inside the furnace. In order to avoid getting burnt by the twelve-hundred-degree heat from the furnace, the hole is partially covered with a santychl.
The blow pipe, the main tool of glassmakers. In their hands, it sometimes looks more like a clarinet or a trombone. What comes out of it – molten glass, shaped into form by human breath – is treated with the same enthusiasm by us as musical notes. A glassmaker must know how to blow into a metal pipe in such a way so that the glass bubble at the end of it fills the shape of the beech mould. He takes a long breath in through his mouth and expertly delivers the exhale. Depending on the size and weight of what he intends to create, the glassmaker also chooses the thickness of the pipe as well as a suitable mouthpiece.
A small, narrow forge with a circular shape, located at the glassworks but often not on the verštat itself. It is used to reheat glass that was already blown and shaped but still requires some finishing touches, e.g. a neck for pouring. The sharp edges that form after the glass is separated from the blow pipe are softened, rounded, and blunted in the truml, while the round soršál can be used to create a spout or a small neck.
Also known as svalák. In burgulec, the molten glass gets it rough shape before it is put into the form to be blown. No glassmakers’ verštat can work without a svalák or other tools such as šajpálky, kulmy, kaprák, paclšáře, zářezky, nůžky, šoršál and žlábek.
Almost every glassworks has its own formárna – a moulding room, a workshop full of wood shavings and sawdust. They smell of beech and pear, various chisels are hung on the walls and original glass moulds are created in them under the hands of the expert moulders. They give them the desired shape. The foreman puts a blow pipe with pre-blown glass into them, while his colleague, sitting on a stool under the verštat, closes the mould and waits for the foreman to finish blowing the glass. Before they are used, the wooden moulds are soaked in water. As a result, a layer of steam forms between the wood and the hot glass, making the blown glass perfectly smooth.
Glassmakers sometimes refer to it as the refrigerator. The blown glass needs to be carefully cooled by more than 500 degrees Celsius to prevent it from cracking or shattering due to internal stress. In the tamprovna, it is gradually and evenly cooled by circulating air. Finished products are placed on racks in several tiers. Hence, when you open the door, the room really does resemble a refrigerator.
Glassmakers use many techniques to treat glass, krakle being one of them. The molten glass is rolled in beech sawdust and cooled with water. It cracks, but does not disintegrate, and its surface develops a special texture. Furthermore, when glassmakers want to get bubbles in the glass, they add soda to the water to cool it. Traditional techniques include engraving, sandblasting, icing, burning, polishing, grinding, cutting, etching, frosting, glazing, painting, iridescence, silvering, and many others. To describe them in detail would require a separate book.
The milky veil of morning fog is gradually rising, only slowly revealing the peaks of the Lusatian Mountains. However, at the glassworks, the work is already in full swing. The place has been swarming like an anthill since five in the morning. In summer months, the work starts even earlier, so that the workers can go home before the heat from the furnaces becomes unbearable. That is why glassmakers have to drink a lot, all the time. They replenish what they sweat out in an eight-hour shift. The shift – “šichta” – ends with a “fajrumt” (ger. Feierabend) at around 2 pm.
Before the glassmakers start their day, the glass furnace is already blazing hot. The glass in the big pan inside the furnace resembles a mush-like substance. It is already coloured and free of all impurities. These are pulled from the surface with a tool called kleslo. Once it is ready, a pruba is conducted, which can be understood as a test. A mass of glass is scooped out of the pan onto a blow pipe and blown in to see how much dirt and air bubbles are in it.
The so-called huťafle are easy to kick off of your feet in case a burning-hot glass shard falls into them. They are leather slippers that you pull up over your ankles. Their ventilation holes make them ideal footwear for the verštat. They do not slip on the worn plank floor, protect the foot from burns, and are not easily punctured. When the foreman at the top of the verštat stomps his huťafle on the ground, he signals the glassworker below him to open the beech mould. The glass on the pipe was blown out and gained its shape.
Verštat is the glassmakers' ballroom – a raised stage made of wooden planks around the glass furnace. In the morning before the šichta, the floor of the verštat is splashed with water, washing the dirt from the previous day away and setting the stage for a fresh start. Steps, turns, stamping… it is really a kind of a dance. The leader sets the pace, while the others follow suit. Scoop the molten glass onto the blow pipe, pre-blow the bulb, work it, and finally hand it to the master to be finished. Meanwhile, the worker under the floor is already opening the beech mould, in which the glass spinning on the pipe, now in the hands of the master, disappears in a cloud of steam.
Do not even think of threatening the glassblowers with hell, for they would simply laugh in your face. They have been staring at it through a hole in the furnace all shift. When the molten glass is not being scooped, the hole is closed with a placka. When the work starts again, the placka is moved aside and the zobák comes into play. The glassmaker rests his long blow pipe against its notches, using it to scoop molten glass from the pan inside the furnace. In order to avoid getting burnt by the twelve-hundred-degree heat from the furnace, the hole is partially covered with a santychl.
The blow pipe, the main tool of glassmakers. In their hands, it sometimes looks more like a clarinet or a trombone. What comes out of it – molten glass, shaped into form by human breath – is treated with the same enthusiasm by us as musical notes. A glassmaker must know how to blow into a metal pipe in such a way so that the glass bubble at the end of it fills the shape of the beech mould. He takes a long breath in through his mouth and expertly delivers the exhale. Depending on the size and weight of what he intends to create, the glassmaker also chooses the thickness of the pipe as well as a suitable mouthpiece.
A small, narrow forge with a circular shape, located at the glassworks but often not on the verštat itself. It is used to reheat glass that was already blown and shaped but still requires some finishing touches, e.g. a neck for pouring. The sharp edges that form after the glass is separated from the blow pipe are softened, rounded, and blunted in the truml, while the round soršál can be used to create a spout or a small neck.
Almost every glassworks has its own formárna – a moulding room, a workshop full of wood shavings and sawdust. They smell of beech and pear, various chisels are hung on the walls and original glass moulds are created in them under the hands of the expert moulders. They give them the desired shape. The foreman puts a blow pipe with pre-blown glass into them, while his colleague, sitting on a stool under the verštat, closes the mould and waits for the foreman to finish blowing the glass. Before they are used, the wooden moulds are soaked in water. As a result, a layer of steam forms between the wood and the hot glass, making the blown glass perfectly smooth.
Also known as svalák. In burgulec, the molten glass gets it rough shape before it is put into the form to be blown. No glassmakers’ verštat can work without a svalák or other tools such as šajpálky, kulmy, kaprák, paclšáře, zářezky, nůžky, šoršál and žlábek.
Glassmakers sometimes refer to it as the refrigerator. The blown glass needs to be carefully cooled by more than 500 degrees Celsius to prevent it from cracking or shattering due to internal stress. In the tamprovna, it is gradually and evenly cooled by circulating air. Finished products are placed on racks in several tiers. Hence, when you open the door, the room really does resemble a refrigerator.
Glassmakers use many techniques to treat glass, krakle being one of them. The molten glass is rolled in beech sawdust and cooled with water. It cracks, but does not disintegrate, and its surface develops a special texture. Furthermore, when glassmakers want to get bubbles in the glass, they add soda to the water to cool it. Traditional techniques include engraving, sandblasting, icing, burning, polishing, grinding, cutting, etching, frosting, glazing, painting, iridescence, silvering, and many others. To describe them in detail would require a separate book.
They were once the nourishing veins of the Lusatian Mountains. Cut into the sandstone banks, they wind through mixed forests and lush pastures to this day, still generously wide, leading their users with utmost confidence even after all these centuries. Leading them where? To the entire world! To business, to learning new crafts, to discovering the secrets of manufacturing…
To take a piece of earth, heat it, blow into it, and transform it into a vessel full of light. It is the story of creation made anew. And yes, glassblowers do have some godly qualities! Just marvel at the confidence with which they breathe shape and lightness into what used to be a heavy rock. But unlike the original creator, for whom ordinary clay was more than enough, glassmakers need a rock with certain properties to practice their craft. Places where good quality silica sand can be mined – the light, almost white, properly grained kind – are scarce. However, there are two such places located not far from the Lusatian Mountains – Provodín and Srní.
The grey trunks of the beech trees in the Lusatian Mountains rise high into the sky. Perhaps due to the chronic overdose of light, the beech does not frown at anything, being entirely wrinkleless – the wood is firm yet smooth, without a rough texture. These qualities make it ideal for glass moulds, which are utilized by glassmakers with their rotating glassblowing pipes. The raw beech wood, the skilful hands, and the breath of the glassmakers have been shaping the glass here for more than 7 centuries, without them wanting or claiming any credit for it.
Given a little thought, the synergy of all 4 elements could probably be observed in every craft. However, when it comes to glass manufacturing, it comes to mind at the very first sight. The glassmaking mixture, composed of silica sand, potash, limestone, and other elements, represents here the earth element, the glassmaking furnace should be seen as the fire element, the ubiquitous water element shapes the glass, while the air element cools the hot and malleable glass and gives it its final shape, gradually and carefully so that it does not crack. With the four elements combined with the fifth one – human skill, passion for beauty and desire for knowledge – a miracle begins to emerge under the hands of master glassmakers. Perhaps the very miracle once sought by alchemists – heavy, amorphous, and dark matter gains lightness, shape, and the ability to carry and reflect light.
Back in the eighteenth century, there were not enough hours in the day to cut and paint all the glass coming from the local glassworks. It was therefore necessary to use as much daylight as possible each workday, whether while working with a perpetually wet wheel in a glass grinding shop or with a brush made of long, pointy marten hair, leaning over the finest motifs. The glass cutters and painters would sit at the windows and work from dusk till dawn. And to ensure they got as much light at their disposal at possible, their cottages were intentionally built with more windows. They were distinctive, big-eyed cottages, half-timbered and timbered, in Upper Lusatian style, usually built next to a stream or a dam. These days, their large windows are one of the unique features that reveal the glassmaking past of the Lusatian Mountains region.
These can be “stumbled” over in many places in the Lusatian Mountains – mounds of clay that hide fragments of the local glassmaking tradition. Pieces from blow pipes, fragments of glass from faulty pieces or those that broke during cutting, painting, cracking, and other methods of glass refinement. However, be careful not to trip over them, but rather look for them carefully, and if you find one, carefully dismantle and examine it. It is quite possible that you may discover some long-hidden treasure.
You will not find them anywhere else but on the glassmakers’ trails around Kamenický Šenov and Nový Bor. They are wider and sometimes even higher than ordinary benches, so that you can lean a basket filled to the brim with raw glass from local glassworks against them and rest on the way to the grinding workshop. It is only there that the Czech crystal gets its noble shine and sparkle.
