We were lucky to catch up with Caroline Landau recently and have shared our conversation below.
Caroline, appreciate you joining us today. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?
One of the most meaningful projects I’ve ever worked on is called “Prometheus”. In March of 2023, I connected with someone while I was spending time in Denver, Colorado. This person, Madison Sankovitz, asked me about my artistic practice and the question of…what’s next? I told her about my dream of finding the stump of a tree named Prometheus.
Prometheus was once the oldest living organism in the world. In 1964, Donald Currey was a PhD candidate at University of North Carolina studying climate change through tree rings. He knew of the ancient bristlecone pines, trees that live in groves at 9,800 to 11,000 ft. When he was drilling into one particularly large bristlecone in Nevada (now Great Basin National Park) in order to collect a core sample and study its rings, the tool got stuck. He told the Forest Service, and they decided to cut down the tree so that he could complete his studies. Reaching this tree is no casual walk. It takes hours of hiking through scree fields and boulders to reach 10,000 ft in elevation, right in front of Wheeler Peak. They carried down a large section of the tree and Currey counted its rings, only to find that the tree was over 4,844 years old. The oldest tree recorded at that time was 4,600 years old. Curry had just cut down the oldest living thing.
Fast-forward to 2023. After months of communication, Madison, a scientist, found the coordinates to Prometheus through old scientific journals. We decided to meet halfway between Colorado and California, in Great Basin National Park in Nevada, to make a 3D-scan of Prometheus. When we met at Great Basin National Park in late June, there was still plenty of snow. Some people were even backcountry skiing in the distance. We still went in search of finding this stump.
The first day we tried to find the stump was a hard day of travel. We were disoriented by clouds, snow, and weather. All of the signage was buried deep in the snow and we depended on our topographic map. After turning around that day, we tried again the next day. After six hours of hiking, we found the stump even though it was buried in snow. We brought out an avalanche shovel and a brush, and dusted off the snow to see more of the stump. We were incredibly careful; it felt like an ancient relic that we did not want to disrupt. Next to the stump on the snowy plateau was a cutting that was the perfect size to make into glass. I propped up the piece of wood in the snow and made a 3D scan of this piece of Prometheus, about 1x1x1 ft. I chose not to bring my mold-making material up with us because it felt too special and I didn’t want to contaminate the space. The 3D scanning worked brilliantly. It was also perfect that snow was on the ground because our footprints eventually melted away, erasing our presence there.
After about 12 hours of hiking and scanning the stump, we made it back to the trailhead. From there, we parted ways, and I journeyed back to Oakland, CA. I had the scans 3D-printed into the exact form I would make into glass. From there, I made molds. Mold-making allows me to achieve the correct material to blow glass into. First, I paint a silicone negative with a plaster mother mold on the 3D print. The plaster mother-mold holds the correct shape since the silicone is flexible. Then, I paint wax positives inside the silicone. These are exact replicas of the stump — just in wax, After that I make the plaster-silica negatives and steam out the molds. I end up with a negative of plaster-silica molds, ready for glass to be blown into.
I had an artist residency at Monterey Glassworks at the end of October 2023. I worked with a team of four other people to make the molds, preheat the molds in a kiln for 24 hours at 1,000 degrees, and blow glass into the molds. After the residency we ended up with five successful glass Prometheus’. I couldn’t have done it without the help of the team.
We took the mold and glass out of the annealer (kiln) 24 hours later. Because it’s a one-part mold, I had to gently open the entire piece by ripping it apart. It’s a mold that is only used once. If we make a mistake, the mold is lost, and we must start again from the silicone. Because the mold is hot when I blow into it, I’m able to capture all of the textures.
There’s something really special about blowing glass into this mold. I feel reunited with this form, as if I am back on the snowy plateau, meeting this special tree for the first time again. This time, its form is as a ghostly glass material, possibly evoking loss, memory, or just allowing us to focus on its texture.
Some art projects feel like you have to really work on them. It’s a relationship in the end. The artist gives, takes, and responds to the needs of the piece. All I can say is that this project was absolute magic. It was a complete joy through and through. And by magic, I mean for me, it borders play, spirituality, openness, and response. I feel transported every time I think about meeting the stump for the first time in Nevada, and I’m reminded of that magic when I see the piece in glass. I am so grateful that my practice involves being out in nature and recreating the impressions. It’s through this process that I am able to tell stories about human interactions and our impact on our changing planet. I hope the glass form of it tells us all a bit of a story about the flaws of human nature. I wanted to give the story and stump the energy it deserves, to preserve and document it in glass.
Caroline, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
My name is Caroline Landau. I am an artist who primarily works with glass. Over the past seven years, I’ve gone to the Arctic and other locations where there are icebergs and glaciers, and I made molds of the pieces of ice. After making molds, I blow glass into them to recreate the icebergs in glass. Once they are complete, I fill some of them back up with their glacier water. Much of my work speaks about the climate crisis and human impact on the environment.
I have been blowing glass for 11 years. I have my artistic practice, but I also teach, assist other artists with glassblowing, and make functional glassware. The glass scene is incredibly vibrant, and there are so many ways to work in this medium. I have been involved in nonprofits, worked for other artists, and even done scientific glassblowing, making X-ray tubes on the lathe. I am one of the Co-Department Heads of the Glassblowing Department at The Crucible in Oakland, CA.
One of my favorite aspects about glass is the community. It is very normal to work with another person while blowing glass, but you can also work with a team of up to 10 people. It is such a collaborative art form, and I certainly would not have had the success of many of my projects without the teams of people I have worked with throughout the years.
I am very grateful to have an art practice that reflects who I am. I am deeply passionate about the outdoors, and I find myself making molds of parts of nature, which I then get to bring back to the studio. Sometimes I see my artistic practice as being like seasons. Parts are buried in the studio, and parts are deep in the mountains. This balance works for me.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
One of the most rewarding aspects of my artistic practice is teaching glass blowing classes. I teach at The Crucible in Oakland and Public Glass in San Francisco, as well as private lessons. This past summer, I had the opportunity to teach at Pilchuck Glass School in Washington alongside SaraBeth Post Eskuche, which was an honor and an absolute dream. Not only does teaching create community, but it also slows down the process, and I find I continue to learn from the practice. Building community in glass is one of my favorite aspects of the material.
I am drawn to the material of glass. It is so incredibly versatile how the medium can be used. I love focusing on mold-blown glass and honing in on texture. It’s truly exciting how a medium that is over 2000 years old can continue to push conceptual and technological boundaries. I continue to want to be a better glassblower, technically, day by day. I think that drive feeds me both artistically and creatively.
Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?
It was well after my undergraduate and graduate studies that I learned about the different craft schools in the US. I had no idea about Penland School of Crafts, Haystack Mountain School, Pilchuck Glass School, or the Corning Museum of Glass until my late 20s. Since a lot of these schools are very technique-based, I could have benefited from them at an earlier age, learning and honing in on both glass techniques and my 2D practice as well. I am a huge advocate for them, and I have loved attending these schools over the past few summers. It’s wonderful to connect to people within the glass community there, as well as the greater art and maker world. I plan on having these craft schools be a part of my life for decades to come.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.carolinelandau.com
- Instagram: carolinelandau
Image Credits
Guru Khalsa
Joe Karam