A Woman Without Lies

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Angelina Lange stood quietly amid the rainbow blaze of her stained glass creations. She was barely aware of the people milling slowly around in the art gallery, murmuring about the beautiful art she had made from pieces of sharp-edged glass.

Some panels of glass gleamed in shades of green and blue, forest and ocean and sky, mountain ridges falling away into the distance. Other panels radiated the iridescent beauty of Tiffany glass touched by shafts of gold, evoking British Columbia’s cloud-swept summers.

A handful of panels were impressionistic swirls of color and movement, a sensual richness that was as compelling as a lover’s whispered invitation.

The stained glass works came in all sizes and shapes. Most were set in wooden frames and hung against the gallery’s huge wall of ocean-facing windows. A few panels were suspended from the high ceiling.

Light from both natural and artificial sources struck rich colors from the pieces of glass, making the room quiver with shadows of every hue.

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