Artwork by Stephen Wilson. Photo by Marie Constantin
Stephen Wilson’s drawing of the stained glass window he created for Holy Ghost Catholic Church in Hammond, Louisiana. A rendering of the Genesis account of creation.
Nearly hidden in Stephen Wilson’s lush, richly appointed gardens sits the studio, where his stained glass projects are born.
In that peaceful sanctuary, adorned in cool colors and soft, dappled light, Wilson’s windows begin—first, on paper. His is quiet, meditative work that uses pen and ink for the initial sketch, and watercolors to introduce hues. Sometimes he uses acrylic, other times colored pencils. The tranquility lends itself to private, edifying expressions of his Christian faith; as he works on his art, he prays his daily devotions.
In ways, this part of the process is the simplest—him, with a blank page, left alone with the vision he strives to manifest. It’s when other people get involved that it starts to get more complicated.
Approaching new commissions, Wilson often gives his standard spiel on color (“the most important thing in a stained glass window”) and light (“the next most important thing—how much light”), before even introducing the question of subject matter. If he’s creating art for a religious building, such as a church, someone will often, inevitably, suggest he capture the idea of “faith, hope, and love.”
“I say, ‘Well, if you tell me what they look like, it sounds nice. But what is the visual there?’” he said. “People are going to be staring at these images, especially if it's a boring sermon. And so, you know, help me do something that is not just another funky saint, defined by what he's holding as a result of his devotion or his martyrdom. Come on, let's get something with action.”
Wilson’s work is ubiquitous in Baton Rouge, from churches and religious institutions to government buildings, hospitals, and libraries. He has even produced art for entrances and other windows in private homes across the Capital region, surprising bursts of color and light nestled in notable neighborhoods around the area. His work also graces buildings beyond Baton Rouge, as far as New York, California, and Hawaii.
Steeped in the storied tradition of Christian iconography and Biblical scenes retold, the often static medium comes alive in Wilson’s able hands, evoking motion and flux captured in the changing quality of light. His windows are inseparable from his love of water, derived from a childhood spent exploring creeks and rivers.
Photo by Marie Constantin
Stephen Wilson’s stained glass window, created for Holy Ghost Catholic Church in Hammond, Louisiana. A rendering of the Genesis account of creation.
“Other glass artists have told me that my work has more movement than others,” Wilson said. “I think of currents, water currents or wind currents. There’s usually a flow.”
The results are vibrant, complex tapestries, using bright, saturated colors to capture a swirl of life and movement. From riotously colorful creation scenes like the multi-window display at Holy Ghost Catholic Church in Hammond, to the almost audible whoosh of a pelican in flight adorning the Poydras Building, Wilson’s body of work as a whole captures the singular beauty of unrealized motion.
When Wilson’s father appeared in his room the summer after high school graduation and told his son he would attend LSU, Wilson was perplexed. “I didn’t have a game plan,” he said. His father unfurled a copy of the LSU course catalog and the two spent the evening paging through his options.
“He said, ‘Why don't you try art? You've always carved things and doodled,’” Wilson recalled. But Wilson, who was raised by an oil man working for Chevron, felt uncomfortable with delving into the world of fine arts, which at the time seemed distinctly foreign to him. Always a lover of the outdoors, he instead went with forestry and wildlife management. This was his course of study until the day he wandered across campus and found himself in the landscape architecture building.
Besotted by a world of growing things and the freedom to order them into coherent design, Wilson switched his major and dove into a more creative pursuit that combined his passion for nature with visual experimentation. Eventually, this path opened wide that formerly imposing door into fine arts when he took a junior year art elective. Wilson was immediately hooked: “That's all I wanted to do at that point, more and more art.”
Under famed artist Paul Dufour, who created the first stained glass program at LSU, Wilson pursued and earned an MFA in Stained Glass. Far from the whimsical, emotion-driven creative process he anticipated, the coursework was defined by rigor and discipline—with early mornings giving way to pragmatic design exercises before students at last began to create their own work.
“And, man, I just loved it,” Wilson said. “And it melded perfectly with my love of water.”
Wilson’s glass studio and storefront, located in an unassuming building on a remote stretch of Laurel Street in Baton Rouge, is a far cry from the shaded haven of his home design space. Peace is sustained through the dedicated rhythm of a reflective, creative process; but the heat, rough edges, and collaboration of the art form infuses the space with a clipped hum of energy.
Staffed with students from LSU, the studio is where Wilson’s work transitions from page to window. The process is involved, using scaled projections, duplicating patterns onto special paper, and labeling the sections with the precise color.
Past the sturdy tables where the windows are fused together are shelves storing more than forty years-worth of glass sourced from Germany, Poland, France, England, and America. The glass is carefully cut according to Wilson’s exacting patterns, then sandwiched between reinforcing bars of lead.
The accumulation of glass is critical; there are fewer churches being built these days (the ones that are popping up often have arena-style constructions, not conducive to stained glass), and Wilson’s favorite glass producer in Poland, which offered the broadest palette for the best prices, closed about two decades ago.
Despite these challenges, Wilson continues his work—ever seeking to imbue his windows with vibrancy, the marriage of colors, the right quality of glass, and the manipulation of light imitating jewels, backlit and sparkling: “As a glass artist, I’ve got to play with the candy, right?”
With so much color to explore, sometimes abstraction does provoke inspiration. While Wilson seeks something more tangible in the visual representation of a concept like “faith, hope, and love,” often his most moving works express concepts and ideas that encourage interpretation. At Mary Bird Perkins Cancer Center, the intersecting colors and ethereal curves of the meditation wall are anything but concrete, but they evoke serenity in a space where patients, visitors, and medical personnel alike might particularly benefit from the presence of transcendent beauty.
“I called it, ‘Lord, Hear Our Prayer,’” Wilson said. “Imagine prayer interpreted in stained glass. You know, a very abstract idea. To me, it's these bands of color rising up, and moving, and God's blessing and presence coming down.”
