It’s a beautiful day on Block Island. The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and the salt air hums with possibility. Adventure awaits. It’s the perfect day for a treasure hunt.
Although I’m excited by the promise of hidden treasure, I won’t be searching today. I’m with Eben Horton, the artist behind the Glass Float Project. He’s the guy who does the hiding.
The Glass Float Project is an imaginative, public art installation of sorts, with a status that borders on mythological. The project draws people from all over the country — and beyond — to search for Horton’s hand-blown treasures: glass orbs inspired by Japanese fishing floats.
Horton devoted himself to this project in 2011. Each year he and his team create a set number of handblown glass floats, currently upwards of 550. Each float is dated, numbered, and carefully hidden on beaches, trails, or other public land. Whether these luminescent spheres are concealed inside a thicket of brush, or placed on a pole in a parking lot, this public art project — and the man behind it — have developed true celebrity status. Now, to hide the glass floats, Horton quite literally has to hide his face.
Humble and quiet, Horton never intended to become a topic of conversation, let alone a celebrity. As it happened, people were spellbound and followed the trail straight to Horton. His popularity grew. Then, it grew some more.
As Horton pulls into the parking lot, he warns me that we might be followed. Even without the camera crew, he says, discretion is nearly impossible.
And just like that, as soon as we step out of the car, we’re spotted.
A woman hurries toward us. Her steps are tentative, her excitement barely contained.
“Are you the glass float guy?” she asks.
Eben blushes and looks uncomfortable. He confesses that yes, he is indeed the glass float guy.
“Are you hiding them today?” she asks.
No, he assures her. We’re just walking and talking. The sound of glass jostling around in his backpack doesn’t help sell the story, and the woman calls his bluff.
“I know you’re hiding them. I going to find one today,” she says in a playful tone as she jumps into her car.
“The float finds you,” Eben says, with a twinkle in his eye.
Horton tells me that now, he has other people do the hiding most of the time, precisely for this reason.
“It’s cheating if someone follows me to find the hiding spots,” he says. “That’s not how it works.”
As we start down the wooded trail, Horton reaches into his backpack and carefully removes a perfect, glimmering orb. He casually slips it into the bag of a bike parked at the trailhead. Horton glances over his shoulder as we continue down the path. I’m sure he’s made someone’s day (or year).
The delight of discovery, along with the thrill of the chase, inspired thousands and thousands of self-described “orbivores” to create an entire community around the project. The Facebook page has members who share stories, photos and locations. A translucent orb is held up to the sky, or cradled carefully in two hands. Some are translucent, blue waves shining in the sun. Others are created with colorful swirls. Someone in a photo strikes a heroic pose, or a silly one. Stories are shared. Faces shine.
Although all the stories are sweet, some are painful as well. At times, Horton’s orbs take on a symbolic meaning, a path forward during a time of heartache.
We’re on the beach looking for one or two final hiding spots — what about tucked away in that tangle of seaweed and shoreline trash? — when a woman approaches. She’s shy at first, and then gushing and teary. She found one of the floats Eben concealed on the trail earlier that day. She had traveled across the country after the death of her sister, seeking levity and relief. She found both. She says the float isn’t just a gift from Horton; it’s also a gift from her sister. She hugs Horton and thanks him.
As she walks away, Horton is visibly moved. “That’s why I do this,” he says.
Horton takes a deep breath, looks around, and reaches into his backpack.
To learn more about Eben Horton, Jen Nauck, and the Glass Float project, watch the “ART inc.” story here:
