The Lost Art of Glazing

The windows on the older part of The Homestead were handmade at least 100 years ago and set into 18-inch thick walls made of native stone, local brick, and home-made mortar. They are typical pioneer windows in a typical southern Utah pioneer home. And, when we bought the house, they were in awful shape—cracked glass, broken sashes, and peeling paint. From day one, the wind blew directly into the living room, mitigated only by some masking tape installed by some previous owner.

The first thing the old windows needed was a set of storms. The single (interior) pane of glass was exposed directly to the wind and the rain. A storm window on the outside would add some protection from the elements while providing a dead-air space for insulation. So, we measured the windows and made a trip to George’s Salvage in Salt Lake City. George’s is worth a story of its own, but suffice it to say that the place is stacked 50 feet deep in old windows and doors, not to mention toilets and coal stoves.

We left our measurements with the staff at George’s and they promised to do some research. In a few days they called back to say they had what we needed. I went to pick them up and found that the objects in question were in the back warehouse, upstairs, and down the hall. I also found that there were no lights in the warehouse and that the upstairs walkway was only as wide as one of my feet. It was great fun blindly wrestling those things down the stairs and out the door without breaking my neck. I had to feng shui them into the car, but I managed to haul six of them home and into the shed.

In contrast to modern windows which arrive from the factory in one piece, old window frames were constructed of wood by a carpenter while each piece of glass was individually cut and fitted to the frame. The glass was secured by glazier’s points and sealed by glazing compound. Glazing compound is a putty like substance that can be applied like caulk, but that eventually dries to form a hard “gasket” around the edge of the glass. After many years of exposure to sun and wind the dry glazing can become cracked and brittle, eventually falling out and leaving the glass propped against the frame without a weather proof seal. We found that all the windows we owned were in that condition, the ones on the house as well as the ones we had salvaged. So, it was time to make some repairs.

We started at a major home improvement retailer where we found that they no longer cut and sold glass. OK. How about glazier’s points and glazing compound? After a long period of fruitless searching, the salesperson said, “Nobody does that anymore, so we don’t sell that stuff.” Glazing windows, I’ll admit, is somewhat painstaking, but does that mean that it can no longer be done? We moved on to the local branch of a national hardware franchise. The salesperson gave us a blank stare but pointed us vaguely to the back of the store. It was there, on a dusty rack, that I found a box of glazier’s points. With those, a tub of glazing compound that I found on their painting aisle, and some glass cut by a custom glass shop, we were in business.

Now I’ve seen some poor glazing jobs in my life . . . and I’ve even done some. But, the trick to good glazing is to lay in an angled bead of compound and then smooth it with a knife until the whole thing looks uniform. A really good glazer can make the window look like it came from the factory with the glass and the frame molded together perfectly. On a hundred year old house, perfection is not necessary, but we don’t want it to look bad from the road. And, so, slowly, window by window we have practiced the art of glazing . . . massaging the putty into the cracks, smoothing it, adding some here and there, and re-smoothing it. With each repair the wind whistles through the living room a little less and the place looks like less of a derelict.

Is window glazing truly a lost art, and does it really matter? I mean, it is simply a tedious home maintenance job and nobody, apparently, does that anymore. Besides, factory built windows are easier to use and much more energy efficient than old style single pane windows. I suppose that the loss I feel is simply nostalgia. As I glazed a storm window in the early winter sun yesterday, working to make the house warmer as winter begins to bite, Ellen played beside me in the yard. Just for a few minutes the world was settled, my daughter’s voice was soothing, and I was working a good line of glazing into a salvaged storm. It was art.