Liquid glass, frozen light

How cracked glass suspended in clear resin becomes something more luminous than either material alone.

There is a particular kind of wonder in holding a finished resin panel up to a window. Light passes through the clear epoxy, hits a shard of sea-green bottle glass or a sliver of amber from an old picture frame, and throws a scatter of coloured patches across the

wall behind you. It is, in the most literal sense, stained glass — but made from breakage, from accident, from the cast-off and the overlooked.

Resin panels have become one of the most popular destinations for cracked and salvaged glass, and it is easy to understand why. The process is forgiving, deeply tactile, and endlessly variable. No two panels can ever be identical — the glass decides where the light goes.

What you are actually making

A cracked glass resin panel is, at its simplest, a shallow frame or mould filled with clear two-part epoxy resin, into which glass fragments have been arranged — or scattered, or carefully placed — before the resin cures. The finished object is solid, handleable, and completely transforms whatever light passes through it. Hung in a window, it behaves like a stained glass panel. Laid flat and lit from below, it becomes a luminous tabletop centerpiece. Set into a frame on the wall, it reads as pure abstract art.

"You are not just trapping glass in resin. You are trapping the light the glass catches — and that is a different thing entirely."

The process, step by step

1

Gather and sort your glass

Collect cracked or broken glass in a range of colours and thicknesses — wine bottles, picture frames, old windows, and patterned glass all behave differently in resin. Wear cut-resistant gloves throughout. Sort loosely by colour and size so you can compose as you pour.

2

Prepare your mould

Silicone moulds release cleanly without release agent. Wooden frames work beautifully too — line them with wax paper or seal the wood first. Decide your final dimensions before mixing any resin; working time is limited once you begin.

3

Pour a base layer

Mix your two-part epoxy resin precisely according to the manufacturer's ratio — this is the step that most beginners rush and regret. Pour a thin base layer (roughly 3–5 mm) and let it reach a gel stage before adding glass. This stops fragments sinking straight to the bottom.

4

Arrange your glass

Press fragments into the gel layer, working from your largest pieces down to fine slivers. Overlap edges for depth. Leave breathing room between pieces — the resin that fills those gaps becomes part of the composition, diffusing light softly between the sharper glass colours.

5

Flood and top coat

Mix a fresh batch of resin and pour slowly over the glass, working out any air pockets with a heat gun or kitchen torch held at least 15 cm away. The resin will self-level. Cover loosely to keep dust off and leave to cure fully — usually 24–48 hours depending on your product.

6

Demould and finish

Once fully hardened, release from the mould and hold the panel to the light. Sand any rough edges with wet-and-dry paper starting at 400 grit. Buff with resin polish for an optically clear finish. Add hanging hardware or set into a frame.

Tips that make the difference

Glass choice

Translucent coloured glass glows. Opaque white or mirror glass reflects rather than transmits — use both for contrast and texture.

Colour palette

Limit yourself to two or three hues per panel. Glass already has a lot going on — a tight palette reads as intentional, not accidental.

Resin clarity

Not all epoxy resins are the same. Use a UV-stable, water-clear casting resin for panels — cheaper options yellow within months.

Air bubbles

Warm your resin slightly before mixing and pour slowly. A quick pass with a torch immediately after pouring clears surface bubbles before they set.

The feeling of making one

What people consistently report about the resin panel process is how much the material takes over. Once you have poured the base layer and begun pressing glass into it, you enter a kind of negotiation — the gel resists, the glass slides, a fragment that looked wrong in your hand turns out to be exactly right in position. You make a hundred small decisions in the space of ten minutes, and most of them happen intuitively, guided by what the piece is telling you rather than any plan you brought to the table.

The curing wait is its own strange pleasure. You leave the mold covered on a shelf and check it every few hours, watching the resin shift from liquid to cloudy to glassy-clear as it hardens around the fragments. The moment you demold and lift the panel to a window for the first time is one of those craft experiences that tends to prompt immediate plans for the next one.

Cracked glass resin panels are, at their heart, a small act of faith in beautiful accidents. You take something broken, suspend it in clarity, and let the light do the rest. The results — glowing, one-of-a-kind, and alive in every shifting hour of the day — are worth every moment of the wait.