Hand Blown Glass Table Lamps - Queen Anne Coffee Tables

Hand Blown Glass Table Lamps

hand blown glass table lamps
    blown glass
  • Glassblowing is a glassforming technique that involves inflating the molten glass into a bubble, or parison, with the aid of the blowpipe, or blow tube. A person who blows glass is called a glassblower, glassmith, or gaffer.
  • The shaping of glass by blowing air through a hollow rod into the center of a molten glass gather.
  • It is made from blowing a glass bubble on the end of a hollow tube, a blowpipe. The artisan then shapes the glass into make a vase, bottle, glass or other objects by using iron tools, spinning, pinching and rolling.
    table lamps
  • (table lamp) a lamp that sits on a table
  • (TABLE LAMP) Table lamps provide local light that is warm, cozy, and intimate, and also provide focal points throughout a room.  Table lamps comprise a base or stand that supports the bulb holder and bulb, and have a cord that delivers power to the source.
  • A small lamp designed to stand on a table
  • (Table Lamp) A decorative lamp unit intended for placing on a low side table as room decorations from light through shade and base and also somewhat functional for reading with light below the shade, often too low.
  • The end part of a person's arm beyond the wrist, including the palm, fingers, and thumb
  • pass: place into the hands or custody of; "hand me the spoon, please"; "Turn the files over to me, please"; "He turned over the prisoner to his lawyers"
  • guide or conduct or usher somewhere; "hand the elderly lady into the taxi"
  • Operated by or held in the hand
  • A similar prehensile organ forming the end part of a limb of various mammals, such as that on all four limbs of a monkey
  • the (prehensile) extremity of the superior limb; "he had the hands of a surgeon"; "he extended his mitt"

Beeches and Bluebells
Beeches and Bluebells
Badbury Clump, near Faringdon, Oxfordshire. HINGEFINKLE'S LOGBOOK (Third Instalment) Agrimony the Alchemist I have known Agrimony for longer than I care to remember, and although I do not consider myself more inept or insensitive than any other man, yet it is true that I have rarely had a meeting with him in the course of which he did not surprise me. Nay! Surprise is too soft a word, for Agrimony never surprises: he astounds, he confounds, he flabbergasts. He is known in these parts as Agrimony the Druid, and indeed, he is held in high respect by their conventicles. And yet he possesses arcane insights which even Druids do not possess; he speaks of Aristotle, Hermes Trismegistus and even Cleopatra as though they were his personal acquaintances. He has that detachment and reserve which only the great may truly command, that incisive intuition which, when expressed, is often taken for rudeness. He is both the most fascinating and the most frustrating man I know, for there are few men who ever think so deeply, and still fewer who do so little about it. The whole world might come to hear of Agrimony in his own lifetime - but it could only ever happen by accident, for, if I may offer my opinion frankly and in the humble spirit of a friend, he has but two flaws. Firstly: he lacks drive. And second: he is so incorrigibly set in his ways. It was one of those cold, wintry nights when there is little better to do than to put one’s feet up by the fire with an entertaining tome, or while away the time chatting and arguing with a friend. On little more than a whim, motivated perhaps by the fact that I had tried three times to light my own fire without success, I took the pathway to Agrimony’s Hermitage by the river, walking briskly to keep out the chill. A light burned at his window, but when I knocked on the door, there was no answer. I could hear the wind whirling about his chimney-pot with that low whistle which one may make by blowing across the mouth of an empty bottle. “Agrimony!” I called, knocking on the door once more. “Are you in? It’s me, Hingefinkle.” There was no reply. “Fiddlesticks!” I said, for now that I had stopped walking, the night seemed colder than ever. I stamped my feet, drew my cloak about me, and looked up at the stars, my view of Orion clouded by nothing but my own breath. I was about to shuffle off home when I stopped in my tracks, distracted by a noise from inside the Hermitage. I stepped back onto the doorstep, and listened intently. It was Agrimony’s voice, I felt certain, reciting something in a low murmur: Hot, dry, moist and cold: The states of Fire, Air, Aqua, Mould. Impurity makes smoke and pother; Change states of one to make another: Hot and moist the Air drifts higher; Make it dry and Air makes Fire. Hot and dry may bring to birth, By making cold, the substance Earth. Cold and dry the Earth may be; Make it moist, set Water free. ‘Tis harder still, the Sage foretold To make these base things into Gold. Perplexed, and perhaps a little disgruntled, that Agrimony should be at home and not answer my knocking, I turned the door-handle and crept inside, and noticed with dismay that there was no fire in Agrimony’s grate. Worse still, the whole interior of the Hermitage smelt so strongly of manure that my eyes watered. “Agrimony, what -” I began, but lapsed into silence as my friend continued to murmur to himself. His back was hunched over his work-table, where I could see a spirit-burner and a large tripod, on top of which there stood a bulbous flask filled with a black liquid. A glass tube ran from the lip of the flask to a beaker, which was slowly filling as the liquid in the flask turned to steam. I looked about the room, but I could not ascertain the source of the nauseating smell. Agrimony continued to pore over the contents of the beaker, apparently oblivious to my presence. I must confess to having felt a little disgruntled, but knowing Agrimony’s ways, I sat down in an armchair, lit my pipe, and waited. “Hingefinkle, you old codger!” said Agrimony suddenly, as he turned and fixed me with a ferocious glare. “That’s three years’ worth of labour in that beaker - and you’re endangering it! Din’t you hear what I said? Impurity makes smoke and pother.” He pointed a curled finger at one of my smoke rings as it ascended towards the ceiling, and scowled. I put my pipe aside and murmured an apology. “What exactly are you doing?” I asked after an embarrassing silence. “And what on earth is that atrocious smell?” “Dung,” replied Agrimony with apparent relish. “Fresh horse dung, courtesy of Snowdrop, and plenty of it.” He drew a large trough from beneath his work-table and pointed into it. I craned my neck to look, and perceived that it was full almost to the brim with manure, which steamed slightly in the cold air. There was a large, round impression in the dung, which I deduced to have been the mark left by the flask when it was removed. “Slow heat,
Berlin Uhr
Berlin Uhr
Me stood next to Berlin Uhr. There are infinite ways to show the time to people, and one of the stranger ways is used by the Berlin-Uhr(R), invented by Dieter Binninger. The clock was installed in 1975 for the first time at the Kurfurstendamm in Berlin-Charlottenburg near the subway station Uhlandstr. In 1995 the clock was shut down, although in the years before it was not in proper condition, already. The running costs of this clock were around 5000 Euro per year. In 1996 the clock was moved next to the Berlin Europa Center in front of the tourist information, now sponsored by merchants within the center. With this the Europa Center has a second unusual clock besides of the often photographed water clock in the main hall. The small image above is referencing to a full photo of the Berlin-Uhr in front of the Europa Center in March 1998. Where at the Kudamm the clock was activated on both sides, at its current location only one side shows the time. The other side is deactivated. In December 1999 the Berlin-750-Anniversary plate in front of the clock was removed. After 2000 the clock was renovated and got new colored glass with thick black frames, where the yellow glass got more like orange which is noticable when comparing the 1998 photo with a photo made in 2004. The Berlin-Uhr is based on the principles of quantity didactics and with this its the first of its kind. The time is calculated by adding the lit rectangular lamps. The top lamp is a pump which is blinking on/off every two seconds. In the upper line of red lamps every lamp represents 5 hours. In the lower line of red lamps every lamp represents 1 hour. So if in the first line 2 lamps are lit and in the second line 3 lamps its 5+5+3=13h or 1 p.m. In the third line with tall lamps every lamp represents 5 minutes. There are 11 lamps, the 3rd, 6th, and 9th are red indicating the first quarter, half, and the last quarter of the hour. In the last line with yellow lamps every lamp represents 1 minute. Before the fall of the Wall there were small desktop versions of the clock visible in the souvenir shops along the Kudamm. If you're shortsighted, this clock is a good way to see the time without glasses even from longer distances, because you can estimate the time from the lit colored lamps even if you can't see them as single lights. (Thats why I'm fan of it.) On the other hand in bright sunlit rooms the time is difficult to see, although the brightness is adjustable. The table version of the clock has a height of around twenty centimeter and the LEDs are very durable, different to the lamps of the original. The table clock also has two alarms with a loud feeping tone. When the electricity supply was gone down for a moment the clock is blinking with all their lamps indicating that it has lost its time. In the eighties and early nineties even some department stores within Berlin had this table version to sell. Since 1999 I haven't seen any new clock anywhere. In addition to the table version there were also a wall model with bulbs and a picture model with LEDs. All clocks were manufactured within a factory in Berlin-Rudow at the Zwickauer Damm. After the death of the inventor in the mid nineties the clocks aren't manufactured anymore. The last clock to sell was seen by me in 1999. The clock of the image aside is from 1990. After the turn of the century the clock gone broken by a common error of a blown capacitor, causing a random flicker of the LED's and some scratching of the piezo. When opening the clock, the capacitors are the grey barrel-shaped objects next to the power supply block. The broken capacitor is the smaller one, but its not a bad idea to replace both of them. And so... since the end of February 2003, the clock is working again. (The 235kB picture of the open clock is showing it already with the new capacitors and the right polarization soldered in, the old ones in front of it, and the tools needed for a repair.)

hand blown glass table lamps