In a quiet corner of her studio, sunlight dances on glass, refracting, shimmering, alive. Each polished curve, each translucent hue seems to breathe with its own light. For Filipina artist Marge Organo, this glow isn’t just a reflection of her craft — it’s a reflection of her journey.
“I started at 55,” she says with an easy laugh, her voice warm but firm. “At that age, people usually retire. But I decided to begin.”
For decades, Organo built her life around family and business, managing a pharmaceutical company and raising her children. Art, though, was always there — a quiet longing that waited for its moment. “As a child, I was already doing artwork,” she recalls. “But back then, in the province, we were raised to become doctors, engineers, lawyers — never artists.”
When the time came and her children had finished school, she decided it was finally her turn. “The business was running on its own,” she shares. “So I thought, maybe it’s time to pursue what I’ve always wanted.”
The spark of glass
Organo began with painting workshops, which led to sculpture classes — first in clay, then in something far more challenging: glass. What started as curiosity evolved into a lifelong passion. “I’ve always been attracted to brilliant, shiny objects,” she says. “When I started, there was only one glass sculptor in the Philippines. So I thought, maybe I can try this, too.”
True to her do-it-yourself spirit, Organo enrolled at the Corning Museum of Glass in New York — one of the most prestigious glassmaking schools in the world. She was 56. “At first, I just wanted to make decorations for my house,” she laughs. “It wasn’t meant to be professional. But when people saw my work, they were amazed. It was something they hadn’t seen before.”
Her glass sculptures, made through cold working and lamination instead of traditional glass blowing, shimmer with distinct clarity and emotion. Unlike blown glass, which is hollow and airy, her pieces are carved from solid optical glass — a painstaking process of cutting, grinding, and polishing. “It’s like working with wood,” she explains. “You shape, carve, and smooth until the form reveals itself.”
Breaking barriers in a rare craft
From Corning, Organo’s path led her to the Czech Republic, home to the world’s oldest glassmaking school. She became the first Filipino artist to study there. “It took two years before I was accepted,” she says. “But I kept going because I wanted to learn everything I could.”
In both countries, she found herself surrounded by much younger classmates — yet her passion and curiosity matched theirs stride for stride. “I would work from eight in the morning until midnight,” she recalls. “If the janitors didn’t come to send me home, I wouldn’t stop. I wanted to make the most of every moment.”
Her devotion to the craft and her faith intertwined when she discovered the Santo Niño de Prague shrine. “I’m a devotee of Santo Niño,” she says softly. “I believe He brought me there — to learn, to create, to find my purpose.” Many of her pieces now depict the Santo Niño, each one distinct. “Even if I’ve made many, no two are alike,” she insists. “Every piece is born from new inspiration.”
The poetry of light
Glass, for Organo, is more than a medium — it’s a metaphor. “It sparkles, it shines, it gives life to whoever sees it,” she says. “One collector told me, ‘When I wake up and see your work, it makes my whole day happy.’ That’s the best compliment I could ever receive.”
Her creations often explore femininity, spirituality, and transformation. Some pieces even contain preserved flowers from her own garden — real blooms sealed between laminated glass, frozen in perpetual freshness. “I found a way for them not to change color,” she says proudly. “They remain as vibrant as the day I placed them inside.”
Working with glass, however, is no delicate pastime. “It’s heavy, it’s dangerous, and if you get cut, you bleed a lot,” she admits. “But I love every part of it.”
Recognition and reinvention
Now in her 10th year as a professional glass artist, Organo has exhibited internationally and captured the attention of collectors worldwide. Yet, for all her success, she remains grounded. “I don’t rush my work,” she says. “Each piece takes months — six months, sometimes more. I put my heart into it, and every time one leaves me, it feels like a part of me goes with it.”
To mark her milestone, Organo is launching her first coffee table book — a stunning chronicle of 10 years in glass — alongside a grand solo exhibition at Galerie Joaquin, Rockwell on 26 November. The show will also feature her latest whimsical creation — the “Longganisa Dog,” inspired by her love of cooking. “It’s like Jeff Koons’ balloon dog,” she laughs, “but Filipino-style.”
Ten lucky patrons who have previously collected her works will even have a chance to take home one of her glass sculptures through a raffle — a heartfelt gesture from an artist who believes her journey is meant to be shared.
Art has no age
When asked what it means to “redefine artistry,” Organo’s answer is both humble and profound. “Artistry is in everyone,” she says. “It’s not just about painters or sculptors. Whatever you create — if it comes from your heart — that’s art.”
And for those who think it’s too late to begin? Her message is simple: start anyway. “Art has no age,” she says firmly. “Even if you’re seven or 87, you can begin. I had a classmate once who was 88 years old and just learning to paint. So if she can do it, anyone can.”
As the light catches one of her gleaming sculptures, refracting into a thousand tiny rainbows, it’s clear — Marge Organo’s art isn’t just about glass. It’s about transformation, courage, and the brilliance of pursuing passion at any age.