Strolling the Oregon Coast today, it’s not unusual to stumble upon handblown glass floats gleaming in gallery windows or tucked among the dunes during a treasure hunt. These colorful orbs are more than just beautiful souvenirs—they carry with them a rich maritime history and a transformation into coastal art.
The original glass floats that washed up on our beaches began their journey thousands of miles away. In the early 1900s, Japanese fishermen used hollow glass spheres to keep their fishing nets afloat. Made from recycled glass—often old sake bottles—the floats varied in size and color depending on their function and region of origin.
Though Japan began phasing out glass floats in the 1950s in favor of plastic and aluminum, ocean currents carried thousands of these orbs across the Pacific. For decades, beachcombers along the Oregon Coast would find these treasures nestled among driftwood and seaweed, their frosted surfaces bearing the marks of long journeys at sea.
Over time, as authentic Japanese floats became rarer, a new tradition took root. Local glassblowers, inspired by the history and allure of these maritime relics, began creating their own versions. These new floats aren't just replicas—they're re-imaginings. Artists infuse them with vibrant colors, complex patterns, and personal touches that transform each float into a unique piece of coastal art.
Here on the Oregon Coast, glassblowing studios celebrate this history while adding something new. Some floats are still designed to mimic the traditional style, while others take on swirling color palettes, embedded ash for memorial pieces, or sculptural elements that turn a simple sphere into something poetic.
The popularity of glass floats today goes beyond nostalgia. They’ve become a symbol of coastal creativity and resilience. Whether given as a gift, used as a memorial piece, or discovered in a beachside “float hunt,” each glass float holds a bit of story—one part tradition, one part art, and one part wonder.
At our studio, we honor this legacy with every float we make. It’s our way of connecting with the past, celebrating the natural beauty of the Oregon Coast, and offering visitors something handmade, heartfelt, and timeless.
Comments will be approved before showing up.
Nancy Brown
September 25, 2025
While this comment is not relevant to your glass blowing business, it may be of interest to other old-timers like me and my husband Leo Brown who combed the Gearhart beaches at high tides in the wee hours of the night in a 1940 Model A Ford with a search light scanning the waves as they came in. We had a chicken house full of the small, “baseball-size” ones which Leo sold to the Agate Shop in Seaside for 12-12 cents each. Leo was perhaps the best of the Gearhart glass-ball collectors— one night we picked up 155 small floats in those 1950 years. The floats seemed to segregate by size, the smaller ones one night, the big ones on another. Also they tended to be deposited in a particular part of the beach, perhaps 1/2 mile long—we just cruised that section and when we turned around, the area we had just searched would again be covered with floats. Leo was fortunate to find one “giant” rolling pin float—perhaps about 2 feet long which our son has
today. Leo is passed away at age 84, but we still have many floats, the largest of which is 45 inches in circumference, and two laundry baskets of smaller ones. Just thought someone out there might like to hear about what it used to be like to beachcomb the Gearhart beach, during a storm at 1 a.m. at high tide in a Model A.