Eunsuh Choi of Rochester on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We recently had the chance to connect with Eunsuh Choi and have shared our conversation below.

Eunsuh, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. Would YOU hire you? Why or why not?
Absolutely. In fact, I did hire myself, long ago, when I decided to dedicate my life to the difficult and breathtaking path of a glass artist. The “why” is rooted in a deep, unwavering alignment between my professional ambition and my personal mission.
For a commercial company, the question of hiring might focus on skills and return on investment. But for an artist, the interview is with oneself. The qualities I possess are what I believe are necessary to not only survive but thrive in the artistic world: unwavering perseverance, a deep-seated curiosity, and the courage to find beauty in vulnerability.
First, there is the raw, technical proficiency. I have dedicated over 27 years to mastering the language of glass, studying and practicing flameworking techniques across two continents. I have learned that true artistry is built on a foundation of discipline. This isn’t a quick or easy medium. It requires a meticulous, patient, and methodical approach, skills I honed through years of practice and two master’s degrees.
Second, I bring a unique voice and perspective. My work isn’t just about making beautiful objects; it’s about translating the invisible narratives of the human experience into physical form. My glass sculptures, with their melting ladders and delicate cages, tell the story of aspiration and limitation—the psychological journey I took as an immigrant moving from Korea to the United States. I’m not just selling a finished product; I’m offering a conversation, a reflection on universal human emotions. This storytelling is the engine that drives my creative practice and allows me to connect with people on a deeper level.
Finally, I have proven my ability to evolve. The market changes, inspiration shifts, and I have continued to grow as an artist and a professional. I don’t wait for opportunities; I actively create them, whether through new exhibitions, teaching, or connecting with the community. This proactive spirit, combined with my core artistic vision, is why I have always been my own strongest advocate.
So yes, I would hire me. Because my work is not just a job; it’s the full and authentic expression of who I am.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Eunsuh Choi, a glass artist based in Rochester, New York. My work explores the human desire to grow, connect, and persevere — themes that I express through the fragile yet resilient medium of glass. I use a technique called flameworking, where I shape and assemble glass elements in the flame of a torch, building complex structures branch by branch.

Much of my work reflects the tension between strength and vulnerability — how something delicate can still carry incredible endurance. I often find inspiration in nature, especially in forms like vines, roots, and trees, which symbolize growth, struggle, and connection.

What makes my process unique is the way I combine meticulous technical control with emotional storytelling. I make life-size drawings before I begin each piece to map out structure, proportion, and rhythm, but the glass itself always brings an element of unpredictability. I love that balance between precision and surrender — it’s where the work comes alive.

Right now, I’m continuing to expand on my sculptural series exploring the idea of resilience and transformation, while also experimenting with new ways of integrating light and space into my installations. Ultimately, my goal is to invite viewers to slow down, look closely, and find a bit of their own journey reflected in the work.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who taught you the most about work?
I’ve learned about work from many people in different ways, but the earliest and most lasting lessons came from my parents. They both embodied what it means to dedicate yourself fully to something — not through words, but through quiet consistency and integrity. From them, I learned that work is not only about achieving results, but about care, patience, and taking pride in the process itself.

For many years, I was self-taught. I spent countless hours experimenting on my own, learning through trial and error. That period shaped my relationship with glass in a very personal way — it taught me to listen to the material, to be resourceful, and to trust my instincts. Later, when I began studying with other artists and mentors, I gained the technical foundation and broader perspective that helped me refine what I had already discovered through experience.

Glass continues to be one of my greatest teachers. It demands presence and humility — it reflects your mindset, your rhythm, even your breath. When I’m at the torch, I still carry the lessons my parents taught me: to stay patient, to do the work with care, and to let growth come naturally through persistence and time.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
I would tell my younger self to trust the process — that growth doesn’t always look like progress. There will be moments of doubt, uncertainty, and quiet waiting, but those are all part of the work. Every struggle teaches you something that will eventually find its way into your art.

When I was younger, I often felt impatient — wanting to master everything right away, to see results quickly. I would remind that version of myself that it’s okay to move slowly, to take time to understand the material and yourself. The beauty of working with glass — and with life — is that it asks for patience and faith. You can’t rush the flame or the cooling; you have to let things find their own balance.

So I would say: keep going. Stay curious. Don’t be afraid of mistakes — they’re part of your language. Every piece you make, even the ones that fail, will bring you closer to who you are meant to become.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
One of the biggest lies in the art world is the idea that success is measured by how visible or celebrated you are, rather than by the integrity of your work. There’s often more emphasis on presentation than on process — on how things look from the outside instead of how deeply they’re made.

In glass, true skill and understanding come slowly. The material demands patience, humility, and years of practice. Yet we sometimes overlook that quiet dedication in favor of what seems immediately impressive or fashionable. I think that can be misleading, especially for younger artists who might feel pressured to appear successful before they’ve had time to really develop their voice.

The truth is, real artistry takes time. It’s built through persistence, experimentation, and a willingness to fail and begin again. The most meaningful work often happens quietly, away from attention — but it’s that kind of steady devotion that gives the art its lasting strength.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What will you regret not doing? 
I think I would regret not continuing to learn. Curiosity has always guided me — it’s what keeps the work alive. When I first started working with glass, I was self-taught for many years. I learned through trial and error, through small failures and quiet discoveries. That period shaped the way I see everything now: that learning isn’t something you finish; it’s something you live inside of.

Even after studying with other artists and refining my technique, that same mindset stayed with me. There is always more to uncover — not only about the material, but about patience, emotion, and how ideas evolve over time.

If I ever stopped reaching for that next layer of understanding, if I ever became too comfortable, that’s what I would regret most. Because for me, learning is creating — every piece begins with a question, and every answer opens a new door.

Contact Info:

Image Credits
Eunsuh Choi, Elizabeth Torgerson-Lamark

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