Glass artists say Portland's toxic air scare could redefine their craft or upend it.

Bullseye Glass Co. and Uroboros Glass helped make Portland the national hub of an art form known as fused glass. The companies manufacture a veritable rainbow of colored glass pieces that artists can easily combine, a quality that distinguishes Bullseye and Uroboros from most other brands.

Now regulators suspect some of the heavy metals used to give the glass its bold colors were what caused hotspots for air pollution near both operations.

Looming questions about the future of Bullseye and Uroboros could have an outsize impact on the art form they helped build.

"It's a scary time for a glass artist," said Gil Reynolds, who makes commissioned glass pieces from his home studio in Newberg and teaches the art worldwide.

"If this thing drags on and on without clear standards, it's going to needlessly destroy the art glass community."

The factories are working with regulators to identify and control potential problems. Both companies have halted their use of metals such as cadmium.

But Bullseye's top executive has said the company's future depends on finding a safe way to resume using the material.

Oregon innovation

When state leaders envisioned Oregon's economy after World War II, they viewed glass factories as a potential boon. A post-war redevelopment commission noted Oregon's natural availability of sand, lime and soda ash, key ingredients that might entice a glass container or window maker.

Factories followed over time. A small stained glass company named Bullseye landed in Southeast Portland in the 1970s, amid a glass arts revival that started at the University of Wisconsin. One Wisconsin student, Dale Chihuly, returned to his native Washington and helped establish Seattle as a glass-blowing force.

As the movement evolved, artists wanted to expand beyond the spherical shapes possible with glass blowing, said Cynthia Morgan, a Portland glass caster who writes a popular industry blog.

"They wanted to get colors together," Morgan said, "They wanted to work with flat glass."

But glass cools and contracts at different rates, so artists who used multiple colors in one piece risked cracks that could ruin their work.

Ray Ahlgren (left) and Dan Schwoerer, who founded Bullseye Glass with partner Boyce Lundstrom, stand in front of a colorful stained glass landscape in this photo taken two years after their glass company opened.

Bullseye's founders -- Dan Schwoerer, Ray Ahlgren and Boyce Lundstrom -- students of Wisconsin's glass program -- poured their focus into solving the problem so people could spend their time making art, not science, said Roger Thomas, a Portland glass artist who moved from California to work at Uroboros in the late '80s.

They landed on the concept of "compatible" glass: sheets that all meet the same standards, and can thus be fired together with ease. The process is called kiln-fired, fused or warm glass today.

"Glass fusing was almost single handedly invented by Bullseye Glass," Thomas said. "They are responsible for the deep roots of this medium."

The approach was revolutionary, said Reynolds, one of the earliest adopters of fused glass. He was among a small group who convened to share information about the new medium. They realized they had to teach people how to fuse glass for the art form to take hold.

Bullseye set up an education arm that continues today. Reynolds wrote a handbook on the art and taught classes throughout the U.S., Canada, Europe and Asia. "It's like watching a flower garden bloom," Reynolds said.

Two other major Northwest manufacturers -- Uroboros in Portland and Spectrum Glass north of Seattle -- eventually started producing their own compatible glass. The industry remains relatively small to this day because of the chemistry and expense involved.

"It's really hard to produce a palette, a collection of colors that are all compatible with each other," Thomas said. "People don't enter lightly into this."

Morgan estimated the three Northwest companies command 90 percent of the fused glass market. Although no exact estimates of the industry's size exist, there are some indicators. Bullseye has said it sold $10 million worth of glass to thousands of customers worldwide last year.

FusedGlass.org, an online industry forum, has 10,000 members, said Paul Tarlow, who runs the site from the Austin, Texas, studio he operates with his wife.

"If Bullseye and Spectrum and Uroboros disappeared tomorrow," Tarlow said, "fused glass as we know it would no longer be around."

"What do you say about a whole art form going away?"

Impact on artisans

Tarlow has paid close attention to the environmental concerns hovering over the Portland glass makers and understands the necessity of heavy metals.

"If you want reds and oranges and yellows, you need cadmium," he said in reference to the metal that showed up in moss samples taken by the U.S. Forest Service.

Tarlow and several other artists told The Oregonian/OregonLive that they feel safe in their own studios when they handle products from manufacturers like Bullseye that contain heavy metals. Still, the risks to the public and to artisans remain a divisive topic among experts.

Tarlow said his research over 15 years in the industry indicates there is no reason to be concerned that artisans will release pollutants when working with fused glass that contain heavy metals. That's in part because glass fusers do not heat glass to liquid form. "It's kind of like cold honey," Tarlow said. "It's pretty stiff."

Greg Rawls, a Beaufort, S.C., glass artist and retired industrial hygienist, said the amount of heavy metal in Bullseye and Uroboros finished products is "really very small." He said it is possible for the heavy metals to volatilize at the temperatures that studios use, often between 1,100 and 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit. But the kiln door is closed, limiting exposure, he said.

Yet Monona Rossol, a New York City industrial hygienist who trained at the University of Wisconsin's famed glass program, said any exposure to heavy metals is potentially dangerous and that artists should vent their workspaces.

"Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it ain't there," Rossol said. "You can test the air and prove it's there," she said.

King County, Wash., runs a program that helps artists identify and control hazards.

Dave Waddell, the program's director, said the key is to understanding the risks and taking steps to control them. He said attention drawn to Bullseye and Uroboros is increasing awareness of the hazards associated with art.

Don Bietschek, who owns Aquila Art Group school and studio in North Portland, said the glass companies must also figure out how to limit emissions and control the heavy metals.

"It's a worldwide industry," Bietschek said. "Ultimately, they'll have to put enough money to it to fix the problem."

-- Molly Young

myoung@oregonian.com

503-412-7056

@mollykyoung