Brookland, DC sample board.

The sample board for my Brookland, DC installation!

"The Locals"

Identity Crises

We humans are complicated beings. I feel like I'm always trying to oversimplify everything; I want it all to be neat and tidy, organized and orderly, and to follow some sort of straight path. But it rarely, (if ever),goes that way. I want to define myself with one summarizing word, so that I can easily identify myself to others, and maybe even me. Yet, when I am able to break things down into simple terms I am never quite satisfied. I am always evolving, my perception of that around me always changing, along with the perception of myself.

I have worn a lot of titles proudly:artist, single mother, activist, ect. As time has gone by, I've sought out more and more challenges, mostly because I can't stand to sit still and have an absolute fear of boredom. I want to create and participate in the world around me. Sometimes I resist, because I have committed to a certain identity, and then there's fear. After all, if I present myself as one concept, how can I also be another?

There have been so many life changes for me in the last four months; I've taken on a new job, moved my household, and two days ago, married the most wonderful,loving man. And while it's all been exciting, I'd be lying if I said there hasn't been fear. Fear of being someone or something different. Fear of not knowing what's next. Fear that I'm not the person I thought I was.

After the fear passes though, there is excitement. Who really wants to know what lies ahead anyway? What would I even do with that information? I may fear change at times, but I fear not changing more. And if I have to pick one simple word to describe me and who I am, it shouldn't be a title, maybe just an adjective. I want to be brave, and embrace new ideas and new experiences. But most importantly, I want my children to be brave, and face this world with enthusiasm instead of fear. And that means I've got to walk that walk, wherever that twisty, unknown path may lead.

The History of Mosaics Class

It's a little hard to believe I'm about to begin my seventh year of teaching mosaics!  For starters, most days I still think I'm about 22 so when I do the math it doesn't even make sense. Especially when you throw in the fact that my "babies" are 8 and almost 12. So most days, I skip the math.

 It's fun for me to look back at how my class has evolved; I now see it less as an event and more as a living entity. When I first began teaching, students had six weeks to create their project; five weeks to design it, learn to break the glass and adhere it and the last for grouting. We only met once a week. And so there was stress and pressure to finish. Those first couple of years I felt that I had to keep projects moving along in order to stay on schedule - after all, once that six weeks was up a new class began in the shared space where it was held. And God forbid any of the students had unexpected life circumstances pop up that required make - up classes - it sometimes felt impossible to make it all work.

I knew this wasn't optimal; it's not easy to take an art class. Almost every person who walks through the door immediately confesses that they are not "artistic" or "creative." "I can't even draw a stick figure," is what people tell me. But I know that's not true. Because it is my belief that anyone can do anything if their desire is great enough, and if they have the right environment and support system. The trick is opening up, becoming comfortable, and discovering your own style. I see people limiting themselves because their work isn't like their favorite artist, when in reality there is greatness in the vision and technique we all possess. It's that tricky confidence thing that holds us all back. I know this from experience - my high school art teacher once declared me hopeless. It has been my great pleasure to prove her wrong. But her words shook my confidence, and I had to work hard to erase

them from my heart and mind. She did me a favor though, as I have been determined to help people find their way in the often times intimidating world of creating art.

After I had my own teaching space, I had an epiphany; why did any class have to end? Why should someone limit the amount of time they work on a project? I know from my own professional experience sometimes I work quickly, while other times I needed to experiment, try different things, with the focus being the quality of my work, and not simply finishing as quickly as possible. I took the time constraints away, began charging per project instead of per session and added an extra day a week, allowing the class to be "drop in," so that students could work on their projects around their own schedules. Immediately, the quality of the work being produced improved. And I've been seeing amazing results since. Some students call it their "therapy," as there is truly something soothing about breaking apart glass, then reassembling it and creating beauty. There's also a camaraderie within the class, people of all ages, male and female, from different places come together with the common goal of creating, supporting each other, telling stories and laughing. We learn from each other, and even though we are all in the same room together week after week, no two projects are the same. Not even close. It's a kind of magic as I watch person after person shed their insecurity and face their creative fears. Every person leaves with a beautiful piece; most return to create more.

It's been seven years and I can not imagine my own work evolving without mosaics class. I am inspired by every person, keeping the class going year round in order to not lose momentum. And I must be doing a pretty good job - most of my students continue making mosaics, seven have begun their own mosaics business. I look forward to the next seven years - the class has moved to my most favorite and magic place - the third floor of the Avalon Theatre. We will work under the beautiful stained glass dome, as musicians make their art on the stages below us. We can take breaks out on the balcony that overlooks my beloved downtown Easton. I can't even imagine what's to come.

Yay!!!

Maps often seemed like more of a suggestion - I may have mentioned before that the tried and true paths often aren't of interest to me. There have been many nights that I've laid awake wondering why I couldn't be like everyone else - well, at least like my perception of everyone else. I'm not that special - I think we all have those feelings. When I encounter a fork in the road I ask myself, How did I even get here? And I have to smile because its really been quite the unpredictable journey......

I never would have guessed that art would be my world - my high school art teacher was less than inspired by me - and I didn't feel a connection. Writing and books were my passions,and of course travel. But sure enough, almost by accident I stumbled upon mosaics and the rest is history. I didn't know in those early years that I would achieve the things I have, I only knew that I loved creating them, and that no matter what, that is the work that I wanted to do. Once I knew that this was my path, I set forth determinedly - thinking that I knew the rest of the story. But life would be pretty boring if things wrapped up that easily. And I can certainly say it hasn't been boring.

While fundraising for my second large mural - I thought it would be fun to co ordinate a performance piece featuring an artist friend of mine and a gallery owner. He was playing blues guitar and she the ukulele and they had begun playing together once a week just for fun. I convinced them to do this to raise money for my project (I will skip how I begged and pleaded - no one is really interested in those details anyway, right?). The event was a huge success and after we celebrated reaching our fundraising mission I thought to myself - How fun! I'd like to do something like this again!

And I did. Not exactly the same, but I made events a regular occurrence at my Gallery 26, from artist talks and demos to writers promoting their books as well as showcasing local musicians. I never would have dreamed how much I would love this work, maybe didn't even realize it while I was doing it, but when I stepped away from life as a gallery owner, I felt that loss. It had inspired me creatively and stretched me personally. When I expressed this a lot of people told me not to worry about it - those things were distractions from my art. But I found the opposite to be true;  the energy, the excitement, the people, all fed my creativity. I volunteered for Plein Air Easton! and became a part of the excellent group St. Michaels Events. Feeling that energy was exciting and I knew I wanted more.

So it is with much pride, excitement and enthusiasm to announce that I will be taking on the Events Manager position with the Avalon Foundation.  I love this group of people and have enjoyed working on  various projects with them! I am excited and inspired to begin. I have big shoes to fill; Colleen Brighton is leaving the position to pursue other interests, and I can only hope to continue her work in a way that makes her proud. I'm guessing that every "emergency" phone call from me to her over the course of the last year will come back to me via karma, and I'll probably bug her a few times just for old times sake.

And so, like every time I've entered into a creative, inspiring environment, I've begun a new mosaic. And I love it, like the twisty, crazy road that I've been on in this life. Who even knows what's up around the next bend?

that's how I roll...

I don't always do things the easy way. In fact - I tend to go the hardest route, doing the opposite of what everyone tells me, and learning lessons the hard way. Sometimes I wish I did things differently but at the end of the day I'm just not willing to change! Using artist-speak I would say that it's part of my process....translation: that's how I roll.

My hands are always in bad shape - sometimes worse than others. I get cuts and scratches when I'm handling the glass - also when I grout. I get all kinds of unsolicited advice: wear gloves, use a trowel, or hire someone to do the dirty work. So far my favorite was a well intentioned e-mail link about using robots to create mosaics. Robots?!?!? Creating art?!?!?!

All of this advice came from a good place; a helping, caring place that makes me feel loved. However, when I think about it, I really don't mind the scratches, cuts or even stitches (and I only needed stitches once, OK!!!).  The whole reason I chose this crazy profession (actually, it kind of chose me, but that's a whole other blog....), was the feeling that I get while I'm creating. There is nothing like it. To stand in front of a huge blank wall is to stand in front of an empty canvas and I become overwhelmed with its potential. Cutting glass into tiny pieces that together make a beautiful design fills me with a joy that is still to this day indescribable. To see it done is not enough. I want to touch the glass, break it, adhere it and grout it in. That is where the excitement comes from - not simply the finished product.

It makes me think that our society puts too much into "safe perfection." I have to undo a lot of this mentality when I'm working with both children and adults. The idea of making a mistake or not doing something perfectly right away can inspire enough fear that one often chooses not to even try. What a joyful discovery that even when the work doesn't turn out exactly as planned, it is still wonderful. To me what differentiates the artist from the hobbyist is the ability to set forth on a path, encounter new ideas and celebrate the happy accidents instead of becoming frustrated that the end result was different than the original plan.

I can live with the cuts on my hands. Instead of worrying about it, I just think about how awesome it is to be working and creating. No gloves, trowels, or robots for me.