|
Mosaics first excited my vision a
long time ago. All through my early years in
California I was aware of mosaic on eccentric structures like Watts
Towers in
Los Angeles and small examples in San Francisco's Chinatown. But what
impressed me the most in those days were the personal mosaics of
an artist
friend of my family who covered walls, tables and window sills
with keys, bottles, tinselly glass, beads and other unrespected
materials.
Zev Harris built his whimsical palace of a house on a sand dune in
California in the 1940's and it contained walls that used coloured wine
bottles instead of bricks, and a floor of up-ended blocks of wood in a
variety of shapes. Every window sill and counter had mosaics which all
complemented his many paintings and drawings. When my parents built a
large modern restaurant on Big Sur's wild California coast, Zev made
zany mosaic table tops to brighten up the wood and concrete structure.
When I came to England in 1964 I worked first as a painter, concentrating
on still lifes. As my pieces became more decorative, depicting patterned
china on patterned fabrics, my interest in any colourful pattern-work -
such as embroidery, patchwork or mosaic -
was fully awakened.Then I got well and truly stuck into textile making,
first knitting, then needlepoint. More recently I went on to include
patchwork in my textile repetoire.
Early on, I had met Candace Bahouth, an American shaking up the British
scene with witty, beautifully observed woven portraits. Eventually I
visited her studio, an old West
Country chapel near Wells, and was delighted to find a kindred personal
approach to decorated surfaces.The entire space was dancing with high
colour at every angle. It was filled with needlepoint-covered furniture
and draped with exotic fabrics and coloured yarns. Best of all were the
bathroom, cabinets and shelves studded with mosaic fragments in jewel
colours. I was so inspired by the delicious lift mosaic gave to
household objects that I rushed home and started covering pots, lamp
bases,
metal plates and mirror frames.
 As
Candace branched out into garden urns, benches and best of all a shell
grotto, I was impressed by her painstakingly careful placement and
punchy sense of colour. Having been inspired by her to mosaic much of my
house and garden, I jumped at the chance when she suggested our doing a
book together on mosaics. We both have an amused fascination with the
naif, extreme decoration of every-day abodes, vehicles, and spaces. We
have shared trips together, seeking out decorative art in other parts of
the world, and light up at any special bit of design in unexpected
places. Flights of fantasy and imagination, no matter how kitsch or bad
taste, delight us!
The book project started just as we were both completing our largest
mosaic commissions to date. Candace was coming to the end of months of
work on her splendid grotto and I was installing my designs for the 1998
Chelsea Flower Show in London after a one-and-a-half-year preparation.
When asked to design the exhibition stand for Hilliers garden centres by
Andy McIncloe, my first thought was bronze leafy plants! I've always
admired how the British use bronze to add an elegant antique note to
their garden schemes.To my eye, bronze looks best with deep rich tones,
so a dark garden formed in my imagination. Mosaic to frame it would have
to be equally dark and jewel-like to underline this dark mood; the usual
seaside bright pastel would not do for this mysterious theme.
With deepness of tone in mind, I scoured my local car-boot sales and
charity shops.
Suddenly, the most hideous 1950's ochres, moss greens and brown
tableware with naff motifs sprang to my attention and begged to be part
of the massive columns and flower troughs I was planning. Cobalt blues,
maroons, turquoise and black really brought the mood to a rich
crescendo. Working in primitive spirals chalked on to columns made from
two lengths of clay drainage pipes, I mosaicked contrasting groups of
colours in spirals up the tube. I added ochre, followed by cobalt blue,
followed by deep reds, being careful not to get too much bright red or
any light yellows.
On the other two sets of columns I applied layers of contrasting
triangles and a large primitive lattice with bright colours in each
diamond shape. I kept these patterns on a large scale so I could do them
in dynamic big pieces like saucer bottoms and sides of teacups, et
cetera. Round terracotta flowerpots topped off the columns and were
planted to branch wonderfully over the sides.
Long troughs at the bottom of the garden were kept mostly blues and
greens, and a mirror of blue and turquoises was placed to reflect back
light. A waterway down the centre was strewn with broken shards in a
rich palette, and the crowning glory was two cement garden swans covered
in black mosaic. On both sides of the waterway, Andy Mclndoe added a
glorious symphony of dark plants which I separated with a lattice
of black coal.
 Candace
inspired me again with her baroque use of shells. I decided to do a
second scene for Hilliers that would appeal to people who might find my
dark garden a bit hard to take. We divided the available space into two
sections so that the flip side of the dark collonaded garden was as pale
and pearly as wedding cake. I covered three mirrors frames in rows of
shells and extended those with primitive, but light-coloured rocks.
Pools of water at their base were surrounded with pale green grasses and
ferns, and peach and off-white rhododendrums.
The irrepressible urge in some people to decorate their surroundings is
a never-ending fascination to me. Like them I am incapable of living in
a plain unadorned space for more than a day or two. A postcard, a leaf,
a bit of fabric, feathers, soon arrange themselves on my walls and
surfaces quickly to be followed by flea market finds and friends' photos
or drawings. Over time the desire for more permanent decoration leads me
to paint flowers on cupboards and mosaic shards on window sills or front
door steps. This obsession likes company, and I'm drawn to anyone who
shows the same tendencies. Fascination with other 'humble decorators'
(for these people often create with the least expensive means) partly
stems from the fact that the rest of the world is so bereft of creative
spirit. Quiet, detail-less little white rooms strike fear into my
heart. There is no evidence of human potential there.
Mosaic is a medium that can utilize so much that is undervalued or
thrown away in our society. The wonderful patterns created by repetition
of rubbish-tip items remind us of elegant ethnic decoration. A simple
spoon, key or cup handle repeated acquires a magic hypnotic musical
rhythm. Once people start to play in this simple way, they spot
opportunities everywhere. I hope this book can help to free the inner
artist in you so you can find joy in expression.
- from the
introduction to Mosaics by Kaffe Fassett and Candace Bahouth. |
