Flower Wave
Spending time on my blue balcony, the flowers now having opened and soaking in the heat from the sunshine, surpasses pleasure to become a moment where I feel I sink into being truly me. I often sit and read, drinking my morning coffee with a book as birds fly overhead or the odd shout from carefree kids in the neighborhood resonates in the courtyard created from the urban building of apartment blocks which surround a concrete area 5 floors below. I love this place. It makes me feel safe, wholesome and very happy. It is my happy place.
Last summer, after years of collecting beach treasures; first alone, then with my children when they were still very young, and in much later years with my daughter, I finally got round to beginning my mosaic on the back wall. The collections had been stored in plastic bags for years. The tatty carrier bag holding bits and pieces of beach combing moments had itself begun to rot; bits of its plastic red colour peeling off, so long it had been stored under the kitchen sink, then moved from place to place, always escaping being chucked out with the rest of the trash each cleanup moment or move.
The mosaic began as a free sea scape, wavy movements forming along the blue wall with pieces of worn sea glass. The wave turned into a flower head at some point, then grew petals, and finally leaves sprouting from the stem. I liked it. My husband commented on how ‘abstract’ it all looked, and smiled; a smile which could have passed both for mockery or marveling at the result.
I had loved every minute spent mosaic-ing; mostly in the mornings; alone with birdsong, the odd podcast and my musings … I loved the haphazardness of cementing, placing a piece of worn glass somewhere along the wall, and simply enjoying the process. It was, far more than the final result, the actual process which brought me so much satisfaction. Watching a mosaic come into being on its blue backdrop, and loving the freedom of zero concern for what it actually turned out to be in the end. I was free of rules and expectations; this was simply a time to create and enjoy. I wonder if this is how children create when painting or drawing; not really knowing what they are producing until a resemblance of something seems to begin on the canvas or page. Then suddenly that ‘something’ is the artist’s entire intention; the child places all her energy into the conviction of her art piece, knowing now exactly what she is creating. No doubt.
I began this post over two years ago. The mosaic has since extended to a second wall, where two fish dance with one another, and a third one swims off in another direction. This time I planned and sketched my piece before placing the first pieces of broken ceramic onto the wall. I wanted fish to accompany the sea flowers, and I loved them immediately. They are colorful and happy and carry memories of each of the objects which had been smashed or chipped over the years and which now sit on my blue balcony wall. Favorite bowls, cups and plates have turned into beautiful fish and I get as much pleasure from seeing them in their fish-like form as I did from using them whilst they belonged in our kitchen.
Fish dancing
Third Fish