A Decade of Heartfelt
Craftsmanship, Festivals & Merry making
The Early Years
Howdy, I’m Dillon, though around here most folks call me PolarBear. I grew up in Laramie, Wyoming, where the wind has a way of sweeping through your bones, and the mountains keep their own quiet watch. It’s a place where you can’t walk down the street without running into someone you’ve known since you were knee-high, and you learn early on that community isn’t just a word, it’s the way we get through life together. Laramie has a curious balance: the hum of youthful ideas from the University, and the easy familiar rhythm of a small town. It’s the kind of place where a handshake still means something, and so does showing up for each other. I’ve been a glass blower for years now, but the heart of my work is memorial art, creating pieces that hold the memory of someone who’s gone. It’s not just a craft, it’s a conversation with grief and a way of giving shape to love that refuses to fade. I’ve made pieces for neighbors I grew up with, for friends of friends, for people whose stories are tied to mine in a way only a small town could weave. Helping folks find a little light, a little catharsis in the middle of loss, that’s the real privilege of what I do. In Wyoming, we take care of each other, and my art is simply one more way to do that.
Finding Glass BlowinG
I’ve been drawn to art for as long as I can remember, trying my hand at everything from paint to clay to whatever the Art Department was willing to put in front of me. But it was my friend Joey who changed everything. He was a lamp worker, the kind of guy who could turn a rod of glass into something that caught the light just right, and I’d sit in his little workshop for hours, watching the flame dance while he worked. It took a year of convincing, and asking questions, probably wearing out my welcome, until one day he handed me the tools and said, “Alright, let’s see what you can do.” Lampworking, as it turns out, is a different animal than the big, furnace driven glassblowing you see on TV, this is done on a torch, up close and personal, the heat right in your face. I work with borosilicate glass, the same family as Pyrex, which means it can take the heat and the occasional clumsy drop. If you roll one of my marbles onto the floor, you’re more likely to dent the wood than hurt the glass. Every piece I make is one of a kind, usually made to order, and carries that slight unpredictability of fire and molten glass, the part that keeps me coming back.
Today
These days, the torch isn’t my only companion. I still love to draw, to shape clay on the wheel, and to piece together stained glass until they catch the light like a patchwork sunrise. When I’m not in the studio, you might find me out camping under the Wyoming stars, swaying along at a music festival, or on some backroad adventure with my fiancée. I help run the Laramie Artists Salon with a group of fellow dreamers, where we swap ideas, trade encouragement, and keep the creative pot simmering. If you happen to spot me around town, maybe at the farmers market, maybe in line for a coffee, don’t be shy. I’m always glad to talk art, or weather, or whatever else is worth talking about on a good Wyoming day.
Cheers, PolarBear