Mosaic

There’s a famous mosaic in downtown Chicago by Russian Jewish artist Marc Chagall. It’s called The Four Seasons. Stretching out about seventy feet, consisting of over 250 colors and thousands of actual pieces of inlaid chips, it’s a tribute to Chicago, and even humanity itself, mixing symbols from nature with local icons. Another favorite piece of public art is a mosaic by Roger Brown, depicting the myth of Daedelus and Icarus. The image of the two toga wearing men with homemade wings flying oh too close to the sun seems an especially poignant message displayed in the heart of our financial district where greed seems to rule the day.

Only blocks away from my house, on a gentle ramp leading up to a commuter train stop, I was surprised to find another mosaic. Not nearly as ambitious as the famous works of art I just mentioned, a simple pattern of flowers and vessels, it looks like it would be more naturally situated in the Arab quarter of a Spanish city. Its surprise location, of course, delights me nearly as much as the interesting juxtaposition of colors, lines and swirls; its fire engine red, blaze orange, iris blue and camel hair tones.

Why do I like mosaics so much?

I like their simplicity; how so much can be made out of little squares of tile and shards of glass. It amazes me how rectangular pieces can form curved shapes, how subtle differences in shade can give an image in a mosaic a sense of depth. I think mosaics are deceptively simple. Sometimes, I think I’d claim any mosaic could be the product of a six-year old. After all, they just have to pick colored tiles and glue them down. But the nuances in better mosaics invite long looks and a lot of contemplation. How could complex pictures come together in the assembly and gluing of such small and separate pieces? How could such simple patterns fool the mind into seeing different things with each new viewing?

I am amazed by their craftsmanship. A truly gifted artist, like Matisse or Picasso may be able to sketch out the basic composition of a work in minutes, but even as a plan, a mosaic must take time, lots of time, to create.

And then there are the associations….

Mosaic is defined as “a picture or pattern produced by arranging together small colored pieces of hard material, such as stone, tile, or glass.” Apparently, this is a very evocative concept as the term “mosaic” has been adopted by countless companies and product lines. Most techies should know that Mosaic was the first widely-distributed graphical browser for the Web. And as far as associations are concerned, I guess I like to think of a mosaic as a metaphor for life and as a guide for making changes.

Life, like the designs in most mosaics, is composed of patterns, from minimalist to intricate. There have been times when I have wanted to make changes in my life, but it seemed as if the patterns were too entrenched. Literally, they felt as if they were cut in stone. But, like staring for hours at the beautiful chips and shards of colored tile in a mosaic design, when I looked at the whole, all my experiences, long enough, I was able to see other patterns to focus on. This makes change not only seem possible (because it’s clear that the new way is already present), but natural. Mosaics suggest new possibilities within old patterns, ways to make changes by shifting focus and not by disowning your personal history.

Getting lost in a mosaic, or finding yourself within the rich and diverse assemblage of experiences that you think of as your life, is no small thing.