The mosaics were as different as the lives of the women who sat in the studio: a variety of colours and patterns, diverse ways of laying the tiles, and mixed shapes and sizes of tiles. As unique as they all were, there were two things that remained constant; the piece had evolved as it was created and the woman had also.
Art is a process. Rarely does the artist create exactly what they originally set out to create. The art itself, as it is forming, sparks new ideas and suggests new directions. The artist’s vision shifts and there is a dance between the piece and the artist, both taking turns leading each other.
The journey from starting the piece to finishing transforms the artist. Her hands act as a conduit between her mind’s eye and the tangible. She is changed a little bit by the placement of each tile: her heart strings are strummed, her patience and concentration are challenged, and her grip on control is necessarily loosened. To create art, she has to let go, and in letting go, she is altered.
Each one of the women presented their piece to the group. She did so with both shyness and delight. The others couldn’t help but see into each artist’s mind and the artist knew it. It was thrilling to be so raw and yet difficult to be so vulnerable. A group of strangers connecting in a profound way and altered by the exchange.