The narrowness of my panels precluded anything too fancy or elaborate. Painted stained glass pictures were also considered, and even though they were used in the door frames of "Foynes" and "Eastcourt", I discounted their inclusion for the same reason, along with a reluctance to research, learn and master yet another new 'skill'!.
One thing that was obvious from the outset, was that the design would need to incorporate a number of rondels, the spun discs of glass, for a more authentic look. Initially I didn't envisage this being an issue of any concern. However when contact was made with a local supplier, I was rather taken aback at the quoted retail price of about $25 each, which didn't include the extra 10% for GST. The figure that was reached, when that number was multiplied by the 36 of them which I required, was way over the top and far above what the budget could be stretched to. Many more enquiries were made and the cheapest price I was able to locate came in at a much more reasonable $13, (including GST). This supplier however, had very little in stock and a very limited colour range.
The other problem I found was that the smallest size provided from any of the suppliers was 60mm, and they ranged upwards from that. 24 of the rondels I required however, were to be about 40mm in diameter. I followed all the leads I could procure, contacting every glass 'worker' in the region, in an attempt to find someone who could possibly make them, to no avail. (A special mention though, to Laurie at Nudibranch Glass, your help was much appreciated). The best that could be offered was an attempt at forming them by slumping. I figured that if it was possible to make them like that, I could have a go at it myself.
Initial heating of clear glass, using my gas torch, until it 'flowed' seemed positive, however, when I fragmented some red glass and attempted to melt the pieces back together into one, this was the result!;
Further investigations ensued and I began to look further afield. Enquiries were made OS, to the U.K. and the U.S.A. to find a source for a reasonable price. I was surprised that no Asian suppliers could be located, given the amount of other imports that are produced there. After the exchanging of many emails, I had success with an English company, Tatra glass. They were very helpful and supplied me with the 36 rondels for a shade over $200 Au, including shipping. On receipt, I was surprised to discover that they were very thin, about 2mm. All the others I had seen seemed to average about 3-4mm. I am led to believe that previously, the glass used in early English leadlights was also this thin, so it may be normal for them over there. The colouring in the glass was very dense, so if they were any thicker, they would probably have been too dark.
The downside of the deal was that very little padding was placed in the bottom of the package and 4 of the green ones, which were obviously first into the box, were shattered in transit. Their delicacy, being so thin was probably a major contributing factor.
Receiving no response from my email to the supplier in an open effort to obtain replacements, alternatives were sought.
Trying to make best use of my time, having a couple of weeks leave, attempting to get as much of the windows finished as possible, I reached a point where I could not continue on without them. I was a bit annoyed at having to make a trip to Melbourne to find replacements.
A second trip was then undertaken, this time with more success. In the above photo, an original 'pommy' rondel is the third one along. The almost black appearance of the first replacements is obvious on the right. In my defence, they did have a lighter tone before the thinner perimeter was removed and the lead was wrapped around. The first one is a sample, procured during my initial searching months beforehand and the second is one of the final replacements, purchased at the same place as the sample, with the same label at $13 each. It was obviously from a different batch and was a far closer match thankfully, as the first showed more tinges of yellow. This was the reason I didn't initially source these as replacements.
The four side panels were tackled first and with them out of the way, the transom sash panel was tackled. It was intended, from the outset, that this would include the house name.
Our property sits at, what was, the back corner of a much larger farm which was owned many years ago by my Aunt and Uncle. It was accessed from Vickerys road, which was named after them, and backed onto my Grandparents farm, 'Flaxbourne'. It was purchased it when the couple were newly married. The marriage subsequently failed in the 1950's and the farm was sold, the grandparents also selling up about this time and retiring to Torquay.
In memory of my family's connection with the area I felt it fitting to perpetuate the name 'Claremont', the name bestowed upon the farm, prior to the time the 'Vickery's' lived there, and carried on by them.
How the name would be worked into the panel was another topic of discussion for quite some time. The length of the name and the smallness of the panel ultimately precluded it's formation in leaded form. The letters would be way too small. My favoured method was to apply it in gold leaf, which is then backed and outlined with black paint. Anita, my wife, though had other ideas. She feared that the 'blobby' look, when viewed from inside, would look terrible. That idea was then dismissed.
Scouring my photo collection, I came across this image, taken of a shopfront in Sorrento. It shows an etched panel, fitted into the leadlight panel over the doorway and we both liked and agreed on this style. The next question was how?!.
Googling the topic, I found that this sort of work was historically done using hydrofluoric acid. It is very nasty stuff and no clues were available on how to get my hands on some, so to speak!. After much more browsing, I managed to procure a couple of kits containing 'Etchall', a non acidic etching cream, very cheaply off eBay.
Once I had it, I done a few tests. It was very easy to use and the results were very sharp, although I thought the etched surface was fairly smooth and lacked real definition. For fine lettering of glassware it would be perfect, but I thought that for doing the background on a large panel it would look too soft.
For the artwork, I had done the design in my CAD program and engaged the services of a signwriter to cut out the adhesive lettering. (Thanks Maty, job well done!). He questioned my method, in order to supply the correct vinyl; "was I going to sandblast it?".
What had me smiling though, was that the texture it produced was eminently more suitable for my purpose. It had a much rougher, more glittery texture. This had me investigate further and I was fortunate to be able to procure some commercially supplied, proper 'blasting' sand. I found that this worked almost flawlessly in the gun. It appeared that the cause of my problems was the various self sifted sands, which I had been trying, were all too 'sharp' and they clogged in the tube. The test sample above, next to the cream etched 'A', certainly boosted my confidence. The section across the top, including horizontal line, was blasted harder, at close range to test the strength of the vinyl. It was penetrated a bit, as can be seen, and the shade of the texture around it is slightly darker.
Testing over, it was the moment of truth. I only had one 'stencil' and if I mucked it up it would be a number of days before I could get another.
Many people have already questioned the date selected. From my research, I have found that historically, when buildings were 'dated', the year of the physical application of the date was apparently used, as opposed to when the building was started, completed or otherwise.
The big problem now was to keep it looking this good while it was fitted into the panel!.
