A New Box of Crayons

One of my earliest memories is dragging a chair over to a dresser to see what was on top. I remember finding a yellow crayon and coloring a picture. I showed it to my dad and he asked me why I had only used yellow. I told him that I only had one crayon. A few hours later I had a big box of 64 with a sharpener in the back. I remember opening the box and getting that first whiff of crayon wax and seeing the colors arranged by hue. To this day opening a new box of crayons ranks pretty high on my joy scale.

In the fifty odd years that have passed since that memory, I have dabbled in most of the arts. When I taught art, I had to be better than a fifth grader at most things, so I challenged myself to throw on a wheel and learn to weave and knit, and I learned about glass and sculpture. I have always admired mosiacs and have seen some beautiful tile work in my travels, but I have never tried it, so when I saw an offering for a one day work shop, I decided that I would treat myself to a mosaic class.

I couldn’t believe that I had never done mosaic. It’s the perfect blend of all the things I love in art. It has glass and ceramics and gathering the colors is like painting and putting the picture together is like doing a puzzle. I fell totally in love. The instructor mentioned the Chicago School of Mosaic. I googled it when I got home. Landscape mosaics. architectural mosaics. 3-dimensional mosaics. Weekend intensive classes. My mind was blown.

After two months of waiting, a car ride, a plane ride, and two train rides, I am in Chicago, getting ready for my class. I feel like I am about to open a new box of crayons with a million different choices.