An Unhappy Crafternoon

The Mosaic Joke

It was several years ago now on a wintry weekend at my mums caravan at the coast that I tried my hand at mosaics. Between books, with birthday money to spend and an idea of brilliance in my head, I strode into Spotlight with purpose and stocked up on everything I would need to create the mosaic pot of my dreams. It was to house a maiden-haired fern I had inherited from a good friend, who had been gifted it from someone else - the gift that just kept on giving!

So when Greg packed up his fishing gear and filled the car with our luggage, I proudly pulled out my spotlight bag of goodies and said 'Honey, can you take this too?'. That was the first time I saw Greg's smile that he saved just for me. The one that had amusement written all over it. 'Sure' he said, after peaking in the bag. As we drove the Clyde I told him of my idea, of hills and blue skies and sunshine streaming down, all on the side of a plant pot about 20x15cm on each of its 4 sides.

Each morning and afternoon Greg would hook up his rod, prepare his tackle bag and head off to the beach or the lake to find us some dinner. And as he left me to my own devices on the first morning I was brimming with excitement for this creative little gem I was about to create. Have I mentioned that I have never tried to achieve mosaic brilliance before, nor did I know anything about the skill required? I started out by pulling all my goodies out of the Spotlight bag and laying them out on the table. Pondering their priority, I put back the stuff I didn't need until later (grout, glue etc). My first step was to break up the mosaic tiles into the shapes I desired.

When Greg came back from lunch, I was no longer as fire up about my challenge as I had been earlier that day. The thought of the end result was much more appealing to me than the steps required to achieve it. He went to the beach that afternoon, so I mustered some staying power for my afternoons activities....sticking the mosaic pieces to make the beautiful rolling hills and sunshine in a blue sky. The term 'a dogs breakfast' comes to mind. Why the hell wasn't it reflecting the vision in my mind!? Grrrrrr!

When Greg came home a second time that day he came to inspect my hard work. He provided husbandly encouragement (good work bub, looks great) and asked me what it was supposed to be. Wasn't my shining sun obvious? Pft! Just goes to show some people can interpret art work, and obviously others can't. Whatever!

As he left again the following morning to allow us to embark on our respective hobbies, I began grouting. Within 2 minutes, I hated this task. And promptly got the shits, picked up my book and walked to the beach for a morning of procrastinating in the sun. At lunchtime, Greg and I returned to the caravan and he smiled at my half-arsed attempt to grout. Giving me a few tips he picked up during tiling stints, I resolved to finish it. And finish it I did.

I thought that creating something from scratch would be satisfying, I thought mosaics would be for me. However, the hard work put me off almost immediately and to add to the frustration was my disappointment rather than pride in the end result.

The disappointment I feel towards my pot is so great that I have never been able to plant the maiden-hair in it. Equally my attachment to my hard work and commitment to my mosaic challenge means that I also can't throw it out. And I do love to clear out my house every few months of all things unused, so this irritates me endlessly that I feel so attached to such a useless (ugly) item.

If you ever visit my house, and are spending time in our backyard, you may see it hiding. Sitting quietly on the window sill of Lucy's bedroom, watching the outside world of plants it will never know, yet unseen from the inside, the pot quietly contemplates its life of uselessness and ugliness - forever destined to be an observer, rather than a helper.

Craft doesn't seem to be a hobby match for me.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!