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Wright in the Path: Wright Sites x PechaKucha Vol. 6
Megan McElfresh, a third-generation stained glass artisan and Executive Director of the Stained Glass Association of America (SGAA), passionately articulates the timeless beauty and intricate craftsmanship of stained glass as she shares insights at the annual online event “Wright Sites” celebrating architect Frank Lloyd Wright. Drawing from her extensive experience and deep-rooted commitment to community service, Megan paints a vivid picture of the collaborative artistry involved in creating stained glass masterpieces, highlighting its transformative power in illuminating spaces and enriching lives. With her leadership, the SGAA embarks on an exciting journey, poised to embrace innovation, foster collaboration, and ensure the enduring legacy of stained glass for generations to come.
When you picture stained glass, you likely imagine something archaic—a dying trade, or old windows confined to sacred spaces or quirky tchotchkes at your local craft show. The reality is that stained glass is a dynamic, vibrant trade, especially here in North America.
Just like so much of the story we think we know about how we built America, we’ve over-simplified and over-romanticized the narrative. Now, we’re pining for a past we never actually had. Our industry’s history is far messier than those shining, brilliant windows that transform our spaces and speak to our souls. Maybe we haven’t lost the trades as much as we’ve lost sight of the story of how young and how messy our architectural history really is.
Instead of a neat, polished narrative, it’s an evolving mosaic built by waves of talented communities putting down their roots, working together to share everything they had with one another—a story of innovation, resilience, and raw, DIY spirit. Very quintessentially American.
America was never exceptional because it was the best. It has been most exceptional when it makes space for trial and error, for experimentation and new ideas from emerging voices. Something that’s only possible when there is an infrastructure of community support and safety found in a landscape of possibility. It makes sense that America wanted to be at the forefront of global community because we know what we can figure out how to build when we work together.
Maybe the trades aren’t lost. Maybe we’re just adrift in a world that’s lost its visual literacy for the wisdom of our hands. There’s not a professional bench in our industry that isn’t laden with years of work to do. And yet, we are drowning with the overwhelming new burden of needing to educate literally everyone we come in contact with about what building something with your hands might entail.
Legend has it that stained glass gained popularity because it could teach visually what the ‘illiterate’ public could not read for themselves. Today, we may be able to read, but I argue the skill we have truly lost is a visual literacy. Sometimes we can still feel it, but we have lost our understanding of what we are seeing and the depth of what that means. As a result, we do not recognize the generosity, community, and architecture around us that supports us and provides a scaffolding for our lives.
It’s true that resources are scarce. But the most scarce resource is knowledge and community structures that would allow us the grace to build educational frameworks and to triage preservation work instead of treating it like a firefight.
We have to take a step back if we want to be able to define the scope of the problem and map the most realistic way forward. If we can being to rebuild our visual literacy for space, for gathering, for the consideration of neighborhoods, we may begin to remember the wisdom in our hands. Even if you’re not in the trades, it’s a language that everyone should know. Then, maybe, we won’t need to be so afraid of the signs of wear and tear surrounding us.
By embracing the genuine, imperfect pieces of our past, we can find inspiration to reinvent our community spaces for the next generation. Let’s celebrate the chipped, broken panes of colored light that remind us: sometimes the most extraordinary beauty comes from our imperfect, ever-changing story.
