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[title]Tucked down a quiet lane in Sau Wa Fong, where the lively energy of Wan Chai eases into something altogether more bohemian, sits Glazden. Founded in 2017 by Zimon Chow, the independent glass studio wears its identity in its name – a portmanteau of the word 'glass', Chow's own initial, and a sanctuary-like 'den'.
While glassblowing isn't exactly Hong Kong's trendy hobby of the moment, this cosy sanctuary is forging its own legacy. From bespoke stemware to delicate sculptures, and deeply poignant memorial pieces that encapsulate life after loss, Glazden's dedication to the art form earned itself a well-deserved nod on our Time Out Recommended list this year.
We sat down with Zimon to uncover the intensity behind the craft, the emotional weight of their art, and why failure is all part of the alchemy.
Playing with fire
Zimon's path to the furnace was sparked by exhaustion. Feeling burnt out by the relentless grind of event management, she began hunting for a creative outlet that felt grounded. She tried everything from yoga to ceramics, but kept circling back to a childhood memory: her mother's prized collection of perfume bottles.
That nostalgic spark led to introductory workshops, which quickly turned into a passion strong enough to take her across Asia and Europe. A chance encounter in Taiwan led her to a Czech master, landing her in a factory outside Prague, practising her technique with scrap glass long after the day shift went home. Realising she had found her calling, her partner spotted the Sau Wa Fong space shortly after, and thus, Glazden was born.
Mastering the melt
Setting up shop was anything but simple. Sourcing equipment locally was a nightmare, and mastering thermal physics felt more like retaking high school science than making art. In glassmaking, a fraction of a second or a tiny dip in temperature turns a potential masterpiece into shattered scrap. "Sometimes, despite your best efforts, a piece just collapses," Zimon reflects. "You're forced to learn very quickly how to just let go, embrace the mistake, and start again."
Capturing memories in glass
But it's not just about crafting stunning glassware at Glazden. One of their most meaningful creations is the memorial glass, a spherical, galaxy-like ornament where the cremated ashes of loved ones or pets are swirled into the iridescent glass.
"The stories carry immense emotional weight," says Kenji, a resident artist who specialises in these cosmic designs. "I try to keep an artist's distance, but some days it really hits you."
There are no second chances when handling ashes. "You only get one shot at doing it, so there's zero room for error," Zimon notes. Clients are often invited to witness or participate in the process, resulting in deeply cathartic moments. "It can be emotionally heavy, but giving people a tangible, beautiful way to hold onto a memory makes it entirely worth it."
Embracing the burn
Interestingly, Kenji's own entry into the art form started with a practical quest: he simply wanted to make a unique gift for his girlfriend. Taking a workshop with Zimon changed everything. Now balancing his time between styling hair and shaping molten glass, he views the discipline as a masterclass in resilience. "You need patience, high heat tolerance, and the humility to fail repeatedly," he laughs.
Trends may come and go, but Glazden remains unfazed by chasing viral fame. "When we opened, almost no one here understood studio glass," Zimon says. "We don't need to reach everyone – just the people who connect with what we do. As long as we create with intention, the work speaks for itself."