Every mosaic begins the same way: one hand, one tile, one moment of doubt.
Today I started a new project. A small burst of color on a quiet patch of wall. It’s not a big space (yet), but I have big plans for it. The vision for this first part is fireworks: hot summer nights in Southern California lit up by colorful explosions (legal and otherwise). Bright bits of junk, bottlecaps and can tabs, all arranged to feel like celebration frozen mid-sparkle.
I don’t always know what a piece will become when I start. That’s part of the joy. A little chaos. A little instinct. A little memory. It’s not unlike digging through that drawer we all have, the one full of things we can’t quite throw away. This time, though, I’m mounting those memories outside, in the open.
Maybe this little patch of fireworks will grow into something bigger, exploding onto the whole wall, even. But for now, I’m just enjoying the beginning. The squeeze of the epoxy tube. The rhythm of placing the next piece. Making something familiar, something new.
Stay tuned — and happy almost-Independence Day!
