Published by Lucie Aboegla, Domus Artis
We are delighted to present the third part of our interview with Studio IRDS, the creative world of Ingrid Račková and David Suchopárek, two remarkable Slovak-Czech artists whose work in optical glass art opens a dialogue between light, colour, form, and space. As this intimate conversation unfolds across several chapters, we invite you to continue stepping into their artistic universe and to discover more of the beauty and complexity behind their process.
In this third part of our interview with Studio IRDS, we move further into the technical and professional evolution of Ingrid Račková and David Suchopárek’s artistic practice. From their growing ambition to work on a larger scale, to their close engagement with specialised glass workshops, this chapter reveals how craftsmanship, patience, and material discipline became inseparable from their creative language. It also offers a rare insight into the demanding and almost invisible process behind the making of their glass objects - where precision, light, and structural perfection must exist in complete harmony.
David, how did your artistic practice begin to evolve, particularly in terms of scale and technical ambition?
David: As our children grew a little older, we gradually began enlarging our artistic objects and working on a greater scale. We collaborated with people who, for example, were highly skilled in grinding glass, and we also continued working with Moser. At times, we would design a commissioned object for them, and instead of receiving financial payment, we would ask whether they might allow us to use their specialised workshops and grinding facilities for our own artistic work.
So, for instance, I would go there once a week, arrive at six in the morning, and spend the day working on my own pieces. Sometimes I would even develop original works intended for exhibition. It was an extraordinary opportunity.
Ingrid: And in that way, you also truly learn the craft. That was the wonderful thing about it, everything began to intertwine.
David: Later, we stepped away from design as a primary focus, although from time to time we still make a small excursion into it, perhaps by creating an interesting set of glasses or another special object. But we no longer seek active collaboration with those companies in the same way.
Even when you occasionally return to design, it seems to remain very closely connected to your artistic language. Could you tell us more about that?
David: When speaking about our artistic glass vessels, we should mention, for example, the Paul Cézanne Series. If you look at one of the glasses, you can see how beautifully the colours merge — from yellow into green.
Ingrid: Chromatically, it resonates with Cézanne’s colour spectrum.
David: The tips of those sharp edges, or pyramids, are ground with such precision that no one in standard production would ever execute that kind of grinding or bonding. And when you touch them, they are genuinely sharp — that was entirely intentional.
Ingrid: The Paul Cézanne Series was conceived as a limited edition for high-end clientele. It is not an ordinary glass. It is intended for someone who truly understands it and wishes to own it for a special occasion. So whenever we do occasionally return to design, we focus only on high-end clients. We do not follow trends.
David, could you explain how the individual pieces of glass are held together, both in these vessels and in your larger-scale glass artworks?
David: I first grind and polish each individual segment. In the past, we used UV adhesive, but later we moved away from that and began using Hxtal, a two-component adhesive developed in the United States in the 1980s. It is also widely used by archaeologists. Hxtal is a two-part epoxy - resin and hardener - which must be mixed very precisely by weight, usually in a 3:1 ratio.
It has a very particular property: the bonding process takes around three days. You prepare the adhesive, combine the components, and then remove the air from it by placing it in a vacuum. Only then do you begin gluing. It hardens gradually. With UV adhesive, everything sets very quickly and after a short moment you can no longer move anything. Hxtal is the exact opposite. The joints become virtually invisible, no trace of adhesive can be seen.
Ingrid: Because Hxtal dries so slowly, it actually has a great advantage. If, for example, a bubble appears, it can be cleaned away and the piece can be bonded again.
David: The whole bonding process can take up to three weeks. If an object is composed of, say, ten segments, each one may require around three days before it fully cures, so it becomes an extremely lengthy process.
It is especially time-consuming when creating larger glass objects. I may glue a piece together, then place it under a different angle of light and suddenly see imperfections caused during the bonding. Then I have to correct them. I often check the work even at night, shining a torch over it and focusing on every detail, because in that light I can clearly see all the flaws that must be removed.
The next day, I carefully take the segment apart, regrind it, and bond it again. It requires enormous patience. The worst moment is when you accidentally overlook something and the larger object is already assembled. Then everything must be taken apart, separated, corrected, and redone. So even though we glue one segment to another step by step, the most tense moment comes at the end, when the entire work is assembled and, during the final inspection, you discover yet another imperfection. Then everything must be redone. At that point, all those days and nights of work are lost.
You can often recognise the number of individual segments by the glass tips visible within each object. Here, for instance, in Golden Peaks, (a video of this glass sculpture is available at the beginning of this article), the colours are used in a more relief-like way. Then we have Spiral Pyramid, which is conceived almost as a sculpture all around; the optics are larger there, which creates a great number of coloured reflections.
Does the adhesive disturb the refraction of light at all? Is the transition or the adhesive layer ever visible? Do you have to remove the adhesive very carefully so that the refraction remains undisturbed?
David: Yes, that is one of the most difficult aspects. If I wipe it away too early, it draws in air. If I do it too late, it becomes rubbery and can pull away improperly; then the pieces no longer come together as they should. Bonding is a discipline in itself.
Take, for example, Rotating Pyramid. The three blue segments are arranged in ascending order, rotating around the yellow pyramid. It forms an asymmetrical yet centrally compact block with a triangular ground plan. The combination of two complementary colours creates a green tone inside, already glowing yellow at the top, while still hidden darkly within the deep blue mass. All the segments turn in a spiral, they rotate, there is this presence of darkness within the object, and then suddenly, from that darkness, it is as though a ray of light begins to emerge.
Everything must remain perfectly level as you assemble it.
And until it hardens, you must also fix it in place somehow, mustn’t you?
David: Yes. Bonding is truly a field of its own. I still remember when I glued my first object — it had three joints, and I bonded it twelve times before it was right. It takes time to learn. You have to learn all the tricks of it. This is not something that can be rushed.
David: Here, for example, we have Goldenbrown pyramid, composed of two glass segments. Notice how finely tapered the edges are. It is made from optical glass blocks, which I first cut and then carefully grind and refine. These optical glass blocks are most often used in industries such as the military sector; only the remaining material tends to find its way into art. Their great advantage is that the glass is exceptionally pure, with very few imperfections.
When you buy such a block, you have to inspect it very carefully. You shine light through it in order to detect any possible flaws. And if there is an imperfection, that part must be cut out and removed.
Ingrid: As for Golden Brown Pyramid, it consists of two parts: one segment is yellow, the other has a smoky tone. They are ground in the same way, and when we place them together like this, an interweaving of colours emerges.
Each work is always one of a kind - unique. We never make anything twice. Only occasionally do we vary the colours, if that is proposed by a gallery or a client, and at times we may also alter the grinding. But in principle, we always strive for each piece to exist as a single, unique object.
Could you tell us more about the object titled Arkenstone and the idea behind its colour composition?
Ingrid: Definitely. Here, the idea is essentially the connection of four colours: purple, pink, blue, and green. The intention was to achieve, within this simple triangular form and its minimalist conception, an intensified emotional effect.
When you begin working on a piece, how much of the final form do you already foresee, and how much is discovered through the process itself?
David: When we are working, we never fully know what the final object will ultimately look like. Yes, you begin with a certain idea, a sketch, and often also a three-dimensional model made from skewers or polystyrene. But as you devote yourself to the glass, as you begin grinding it and see how the material changes under your hands, you may suddenly realise: wow, I am going even further into an extreme than I had originally expected. At the same time, however, you must preserve a stable base so that the object remains balanced and structurally secure.
What is your relationship to digital design tools, and do they have any place in your creative process?
Ingrid: Only to a very limited extent. For example, if we are preparing a special presentation and it does not make sense to create a small model in glass because the idea is still in a stage of reflection, when we are still considering the final appearance of the object, then it can be worthwhile to make a three-dimensional presentation. Usually, this concerns larger works. But for most of our objects, we prefer to be able to touch the model physically.
David: I would add one more thing. For a time, I taught at the university in Zlín, and I used to go there for workshops. The students would create designs for their glass objects using special computer programs. Ingrid and I would look at them and say: You see, in that case, you do not even need to blow it - it is almost unnecessary to make it, because you already know exactly what it will look like.
That is one of the reasons why we do not particularly like computer drawings. The other reason is that you have to choose how you spend your time. You sit down at the computer, and time disappears incredibly quickly, but in the end you have only produced the image, the digital drawing. For me, simply grinding, polishing, and bonding the individual segments already takes an enormous amount of time. If I then also had to spend additional hours sitting at a computer and preparing a digital model, it would take me more time than making the physical model myself.
Standing before the work titled Three-Sided Pyramid in Amethyst, could you tell us more about this piece and the technology behind its creation?
Ingrid: Here we are dealing with an entirely different technology - a work created through kiln casting. Once again, the process begins with a sketch, followed by a plaster model. Then a mould is prepared, pieces of glass are placed into it, and the whole is put into the kiln for approximately a week, although much depends on many different factors. It is then cooled gradually, removed from the kiln, and afterwards it must be ground, polished, or given a matte finish until this final form emerges.
So it is a completely different technology. In these works, we often use only a single colour tone, but thanks to the grinding, whether deep or shallow - the tone changes from darker to lighter. In other words, the colour scale can be darkened or lightened through the treatment of the surface.
That is very interesting - from a distance, it truly appears as though it were composed of two different coloured segments, whereas in fact it is a single piece of glass.
Ingrid: Yes, and if you look at it from this angle, you can see that one part of the object is polished while the other is matte. So the final effect is further regulated through matting and surface polishing.
David: And yet the same principle still applies here: the colour lies in the mass of the glass, and the opposite effect is shaped through the form. The intention here was that this pyramidal object would not have a dark base gradually passing into a lighter colour scale - quite the contrary. The darker tone is concentrated more towards the top than at the base.
Ingrid: This also creates a kind of internal space, as you can see. The glass renders that inner space even more vividly and gives it greater presence.
Do you already know in advance how the colour scale will behave in such a piece?
David: Yes. There are colour samples, and through experience of working with glass, you know approximately how the material will behave. But the casting of glass itself is a discipline of its own.
Ingrid: It is important not to work against the technology, not to underestimate it, and not to force something that is not technically feasible or that would compromise the quality of the work. It is always best to use the technology that can truly give the idea what you want it to achieve.
And how does the firing of the moulds in the kiln work? At what temperatures do you fire them?
David: Some kilns go to around 900 degrees Celsius, others to 1300 degrees, but it always depends on the type of glass. The Czechs developed a type of glass that heats up quickly and has a heavier mass. Ordinary glass usually weighs around 2.5 kilograms per litre, whereas these special types of glass, so that they can flow properly into all the cavities, may reach up to 3.5 kilograms per litre. We need the glass to flow fully even into the pointed tips. The heavier the glass, the more easily the bubbles rise out; the denser it is, the better it behaves in that respect.
This kind of work is commonly done at around 800 degrees Celsius. But the challenge is this: you prepare everything, you place the raw glass inside, or sometimes you work with glass from other makers who produce coloured glass. You take their curves and parameters for how it should be melted, you pass all this on to the caster, and I also provide my own model of the object. The caster then prepares the mould, places the glass fragments inside it, and puts it into the kiln.
From that moment on, everything depends on the caster’s experience when and how they gradually reduce the temperature in the kiln. It is a very complex process. Certain parts of the object need to cool more quickly than others, while other parts cool slowly. That creates tension within the glass, and because it is glass, it can crack and be destroyed. And you do not always see the fracture at that moment. You may only discover it later while working on the object, for example, when grinding or polishing it and suddenly it breaks.
Has that ever happened to you that a piece was destroyed through an error or an unexpected mishap?
David: Yes, unfortunately it does happen, though only rarely. You may spend more than a month painstakingly working on a single piece, and then one careless movement while handling the object is enough for everything to be destroyed and for you to begin again from the start. Of course, with increasing experience, this happens less and less.
For example, you learn not to push things to an extreme. If I am tired, or Ingrid is tired, we simply say we will continue later. There is no sense in forcing it. It is better to step away at that moment.
Some of our cast sculptures may take more than three months to cool. The moulds can weigh hundreds of kilos. The decrease in temperature must be controlled with absolute precision, using specific programs and kilns. The experience of the casters is irreplaceable.
Ingrid: We use this kiln-casting technology, for example, for series in which we can work with the inner space of the object, or with curves - where we can evoke something more organic, almost plant-like or amorphous. It brings the work closer to forms found in nature, as in this object titled Fin. It recalls the fin of a fish. One side is polished, so that you can see inside, while the rest is matte. In that way, it creates a more natural impression; it is not meant to be about one hundred percent perfection.
Part III has drawn us further into the world of Studio IRDS, where artistic vision is realised through extraordinary precision, material understanding, and disciplined craft. In this chapter, Ingrid Račková and David Suchopárek reveal the demanding processes behind their cut, cold-bonded and cast glass works, offering a rare insight into the patience and structural sensitivity required to bring such pieces to life.
In the next chapter, we will step into their latest exhibition, JEDNO/DUCHOST, and explore the curatorial idea behind it, the breathtaking work Peaks, and a new, stunning series of glass paintings.
