A two-decade artifact of war, peace, and everything in between

I wish I could say I had some magical, artistic sixth sense—but really, I just looked up.

I was wandering out of the WMNF lobby, probably half-thinking about lunch, when this glowing stained glass panel was catching the light just right. I’d seen it before, plenty of times, but this time I actually looked.

That’s when I noticed it: a small signature tucked in the corner. Curtis Whitwam, 2006.

The Interview That Brought It to Life

A quick online search and one phone number later, I was on the line with Curtis Whitwam. He answered with the warmth of an old friend and remembered the piece immediately—no photo needed. “Oh wow, that window,” he said with a laugh. That window led us into a 40-minute conversation filled with meaning, memory, and a surprising emotional connection to the station I call home.

Interestingly, this stained glass piece doesn’t have an official title. “I wasn’t titling my stained glass work back then,” Curtis told me. “That came later in my career.” Even without a name, the piece speaks volumes. It invites the viewer to interpret its message based on feeling and experience, which is exactly how Curtis created it—intuitively, from the heart, and in response to the world around him.

The Peace Sign

At the heart of the piece is a peace sign—a response to the heavy political and social climate of 2003. “It has obvious meaning,” Curtis said, “but it was also my way of expressing the need for calm during chaos.” The symbol anchors the entire piece and reflects the emotional landscape of the time.

Rooted in Connection

Encircling the peace sign are flowing roots, one of Curtis’s signature visual motifs. “They go through a barrier,” he explained, “connecting above and below, like a bridge between worlds. They carry life force energy.” The roots stand for unity and serve as a reminder that, despite appearances, we’re all connected at the source.

The Weight of the World in Teardrops

On either side of the window, shimmering glass teardrops fall gracefully. Curtis told me they were made from hand-blown glass sourced in West Virginia, each with its own ripple and variation. “They represent sadness, the grief of everything happening in the world.” Their imperfections add character—natural flaws that enhance their emotional impact.

Grounded in Stone

Embedded in the glass are three slices of real agate geodes. “They ground the piece,” Curtis said. “They’re Earth energy. When the light passes through them, you see crystals that took years to form.” These geodes don’t just add depth—they root the entire piece in something ancient and enduring.

Glass That Feels Alive

Curtis used a technique known as Tiffany-style stained glass, which involves designing a pattern, cutting individual pieces of glass, and wrapping each edge with copper foil. The texture of the panel adds another layer of expression. Some sections ripple. Others are smooth or filled with air bubbles. Curtis described how stained glass is sometimes rolled through textured metal or cooled in ways that trap bubbles. These tiny inconsistencies make the glass feel alive, giving the piece movement and soul.

Every piece he made back then was one-of-a-kind.

“I never repeated a design, each window was its own story.”

Art That Finds Its Way Home

Here’s the twist: Curtis thought he had donated the piece directly to WMNF. But Miss Julie remembers it was actually purchased at an art show by former receptionist Brenda Wiseman. Brenda installed it in the lobby when the station moved into its current building in 2005.

So somehow, the piece Curtis made for WMNF found its way back to the station—just not the way he imagined.

Curtis created the piece in 2003, during a time when the world felt heavy. “There was so much going on,” he told me, recalling the post-9/11 political climate and the early years of the Iraq War. While he was creating stained glass in his studio, WMNF played constantly in the background. “It was one of the only places I could hear real, independent voices.”

About the Artist: Curtis Whitwam

Today, Curtis works primarily in watercolor. “It reminds me of stained glass,” he said. “The transparency, the way light shines through—it’s similar. I think that’s why I love it.”

His new solo exhibit, Liquid Light, opens May 2 at DRV Gallery in Gulfport and runs through May 17. The collection features over 20 pieces, many painted with real spring or river water from Florida’s ecosystems. “It’s about how water connects everything,” he told me.

You can also find his work year-round at SOG Café in South Tampa, where he displays both original watercolor paintings and prints.

A Full Circle Moment

The piece didn’t return to the station by plan. It came back because stories—like roots—have a way of finding home. Curtis created this window in 2003, while war raged, fear lingered, and truth felt harder to find. WMNF was his lifeline—an independent voice in the noise—and this artwork was his thank you, his outlet, his protest, and his prayer. Two decades later, the world has changed—but in some ways, not enough. We still face conflict, division and uncertainty. And maybe that’s what makes this piece feel so alive: it still speaks to us.

Art like this isn’t just decoration—it’s documentation. It’s history. It’s one artist, one moment, one feeling made permanent in color and glass. And somehow, it still finds ways to be relevant. To ask for peace. To remind us we’re connected. To ground us.

Thank you, Curtis, for your generosity, your vision, and for capturing a moment that still matters.

Until the next hidden gem,

Toni Phan.

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