Mosaic Adventure

In the early 2000s, I took a break from stone carving and began working in clay. I acquired a potter’s wheel and a floor kiln, and eventually a raku kiln. I started by making cups and bowls, but felt this was too limiting. So, I turned to a limestone face I had carved years earlier, made a mold of it, and began a series of masks—bisque-fired, glazed, and glued onto small metal frames.

Some of the masks broke through carelessness, or they cracked in the kiln. I was confronted with a dilemma: what to do with a broken mask? I tucked the pieces into a box and considered them failures.

Complaining about this to my sponsor in a recovery group, right away she said, “A broken mask reveals the true face beneath!”

An mosaic of an abstract blue human face, cross sectioned and surrounded by broken pieces of glass. — *Blue*

That was the suggestion I needed to pre-cut or break a series of clay masks. Eventually, becoming a booklet: The Broken Mask: A Metaphor for Recovery.

Next to each mask was a statement, such as:

We think our masks make us look bigger and more powerful.
Our masks keep others at a distance and even drive them away.
We all wear masks to conceal our true selves. What mask are you wearing today.

I showed the series to several support groups. Then I had it printed, using the image Blue for the booklet’s cover (thanks to Allegra Printing in Tucson).

(Go to the Publications page in this website’s Store section to order copies.)

My residence was outside central Tucson in a lovely neighborhood in the hills. There was ample space for a garden with five-foot-high walls of warm brick-colored masonry blocks—perfect for hanging artwork!

Around the city, there were numerous sources for tile, from flooring companies to neighborhood giveaways. Occasionally, I found a small box of tile leftovers or waste glass recycled from somebody’s home project—marked “Free” by a mailbox. From all these sources, I started accumulating many colors and shades.

One treasured find was a whole set of sky-blue subway tiles that got me thinking about buildings framed against the cloudless Arizona sky.

A mosaic of a church bell tower made from blue, white, and brown, glass. — *San Xavier Chapel*

This first large wall project came from my sketch of the mortuary chapel at the historic San Xavier Mission Church. The blue tiles were perfect. I also found pure white tiles, chips of gold tiles for the cross, and little pieces of brown tile for the chapel’s bells.

This was when I discovered cement board as a sturdy backing for tile—plumbers all know this! I easily scored and cut it with a utility knife.

For hanging them, I drilled holes in the four corners and glued washers over them. Once finished, I could easily screw the mosaic to the brick siding of my house, or to the garden wall for display.

A mosaic of a hummingbird sipping nectar from a orange flower. — *Humming Bird*

Occasionally, I dipped into my photo source files to make animal and bird pieces. Broken tile could only go so far in detail, so I learned about tile nippers, which allowed me to cut small pieces with greater accuracy. I rolled out clay the same thickness as the tiles and cut it into shapes to fire and glaze.

This allowed me to blend small shaped elements with larger shards from the free tile stash. Notice the tiny yellow stamens, leaves, and the other small details in the Hummingbird mosaic.

An metal framed abstract mosaic rendering of a snake with colorful tiles depicting bugs, eggs, and other things snakes eat. — *What The Snake Eats*

A whim led me to making a series of insects, first drawing them out on flat chunks of plaster and then carefully carving out the background to make molds. It was a slow process, but it led to fun ways to use insects in a design, such as What the Snake Eats.

Another result was an ever-growing collection of small glazed pieces. I shared them with my young cousins during a summer in New Hampshire. Working in wooden frames, they made their own mosaics by selecting and arranging various colorful elements—blades of grass, heads of bunnies, horses, cats, dogs, frogs, and waves of water. The venture was a rousing success!

As my mosaics became larger, I screwed cement-board backing directly to my garden wall with washers and worked standing up under a canopy for shade from the Arizona sun.

After arranging pieces on a flat surface, I would plaster them directly to the hanging cement board. The final touch was to outline the washers with tile so that they became an unobtrusive part of the design.

A colorful mosaic of a butterfly made from white, blue, yellow, black, and brown glass. — *California Sister*

I started using mirror glass in some mosaics. Again, the free sources were helpful. Broken mirror glass came in two varieties: household mirrors and thicker automotive mirrors. I used the latter because it better matched the thickness of my tiles.

The only downside was the effect on photos. The pieces picked up images of whatever was in the background, so it was difficult to get a clean shot.

Dragonfly was in a student show at the Desert Museum Art Institute in Tucson (where I took classes) and was purchased by one of the instructors.

A metal framed rectangle mosaic of a dragonfly surrounded by flowers. — *Dragonfly*

Several more creatures arrived: a mountain lion, a burrowing owl, a packrat—all thanks to photo images derived from calendars or from the Arizona—Sonora Desert Museum brochure. A selection from calendar art supplied me with a close-up of a heron’s head.

The Heron mosaic was purchased for a home in Seattle.

A mosaic of a mountain lion's face, with its front paws folded, made from colorful pieces of glass. — *Mountain Lion*

One major piece was Coyote Howling the Universe, with a background of desert mountains. By this time, I had many small leftover pieces: flowers, insects, and birds. I wanted to design a work that celebrated diversity.

A Tucson doctor purchased the piece and installed it on his garden wall.

A portrait mosaic of a coyote howling with mountains in the background. The coyote's howl is represeted by colorful items like fruit, stars, rocks, and other items that exist in the universe. — *Coyote Howling the Universe*

One of my final mosaics spoke to my love of flowers. On a wire fence alongside my house, I cultivated a row of sunflowers thriving in the Arizona sun; they stood up straight and tall. In this mosaic, I added tiny faces to the yellow blossoms as a cheerful greeting. It now resides at my older daughter’s house in Lee, New Hampshire, welcoming folks to their extensive garden.

A rectangle, wood framed, mosaic of sunflowers with human faces as their pistils. — *Sunflowers*

I stopped making mosaics when I moved from Arizona to Ithaca, New York, where I resumed carving stone and eventually retired at age eighty-five. However, I will never forget the enjoyment of working with the bright colors that mosaics brought into my art life. I was like a kid—excited at getting a new box of crayons! If you are a 3D artist, I recommend giving mosaics a try!

Compiled and edited by Larry Waters at High Fidelity Writing Services . Much gratitude to Larry!

Mosaics, Other Works, Blogellen sidorOctober 17, 2026Sidor StudioMosaics, ArizonaComment