From the first time I thought of making a mosaic cross for my husband, I was drawn to the Celtic Cross, with its circle of light juxtaposed at the heart of the cross.  This particular form of the Christian symbol has many layers of folklore as to its origins, from remnants of an old sun god joining his disc to Christianity, to the circle representing eternity and God’s love.  Stephen Walker, metalsmith, has an interesting article on Celtic Cross History and Symbolism.

The cross I made for Wayne is unusual with its crazy paving.  I had a scrap of stained glass with a graduated shading from red to magenta to purple, and irregular pieces were the best way for me to preserve the color progression.
Putting the iridized glass together for the circle was a powerful experience, as the glow was intensified by the teal glass background, and incarnating the hope of a light shining in the darkness.  The cross below is a commission, which incorporates the same iridized glass into the circle, but this time the glass is in a less linear form, emanating like one of my mandalas.  I experimented with some of the many offcuts from nipping glass, to make a patchwork cross on slate which has tremendous light catching abilities.

My mother, who is a minister, suggested a cross with interlocking rings, for weddings.

Related:
Commissioning a Mosaic: 3 Questions to Consider

Rainbow Celtic Cross

A Celtic Cross Finds the One it was Meant For

Celtic Cross in Green and Amber
Over on Stratoz:
Wordless Wednesday: Bird in the Center(of a Celtic Cross)

I once took a collage workshop where an array of beautiful handmade paper was spread on every surface, and we could choose which sheets we wanted to work with.  When we finished the first collage, the instructor then told us to gather all the scraps left over, and use these to make another collage.  After the initial spike of anxiety, this challenge had a kind of thrill, as I worked within limits, spurring on my creativity.   I liked the 2nd collage even more than the first one, and it was satisfying to use the scraps, the leavings, and create something new.  I keep the two collages in my studio(1st one on the right, 2nd one on the left), a reminder of two kinds of working–one out of an abundance of materials, an array on every surface, and another out of sparseness.  Too few choices can lead to a paucity, a deficit, but too many choices can lead to overwhelm.

In making mosaics, I create a lot of fragments.  The nature of cutting glass, and tile, is like sculpting or woodcarving, paring away the material until the form is revealed.  Fortunately in mosaic, the fragments are every bit as valuable as the original uncut glass or tile.  For a couple years I saved all the tiniest bits, because I hated to imagine throwing them out.  Then one day I noticed that I had enough to cover a surface, and I was using them in delight.  I opened an tin of jagged scraps, non-linear ones, and set myself the challenge of making a mandala with them.  I used only fragments in the center, and then relented and let myself cut some larger pieces for the border.  My definition of “large” is still quite small, at least according to my husband.  Working with these scraps must be akin to scrappy quilts, crazy quilts, all the ways to use up the stash of small pieces, and make something new.

Scrappy Mandala Grouted

Over at Stratoz:

Stratozpheric Suncatcher from Scraps

Adhesive is an integral aspect of mosaic art.  The first mosaics I made were stepping stones, affixing pebbles to concrete pavers with thin-set cement mortar.  Thinset is finicky, like its cousin grout.  Once the process of becoming cement begins, you’re on the clock.  Adding more thinset to a soupy mixture or adding more water or admix to a bread-dough type consistency weakens the adhesive qualities.  Thinset also has a memory, and once you stick a pebble down, the thinset won’t be happy if you move it.  I learned to mix small batches in deli containers to reduce waste.

Then I took a class, and was introduced to Weldbond:  Universal Space Age Adhesive.  How could anyone resist that name?  And for me, the fact it was from Canada was all the better, since I grew up in Alberta.  Weldbond is not for stepping stones; it is water-soluble.  But what a relief from thinset. Mosaic artists can have long earnest debates about adhesives(our mosaic-geekiness showing through), and tend to be loyal to different kinds.  I am a Weldbond Woman.  If I was primarily a garden artist, sign artist or maker of public art, I can see how I would be swayed by thinset, but I make mosaics for the home, mostly inside.

Weldbond is a non-toxic white pvc glue.  It can bond just about anything and works well with glass because it dries clear.   I like working with translucent and transparent glass, to let light in, and increase the glowing intensity of color, so I don’t want a glue interfering.  It does require patience, as it can take a couple weeks to completly turn clear if you are applying glass on glass, and if you grout too soon, the air can’t get in to complete the process. But this is a fine trade-off for not having to open the window to air out fumes as with silicone adhesive.  It sets up within the day, but I always wait at least 24 hours before grouting.  The longer is sets, the stronger the bond gets.

I gave up on the small bottles, which tend to clog, and have ordered it online by the gallon from ACE(it’s mostly carried by independent hardware stores and online mosaic supply shops).  I pour a small amount onto a plastic deli lid and either dip tesserae in using tweezers, my fingers, or spread the glue onto the substrate with a putty knife.  It takes practice to know how much glue to apply.  You want enough to coat but not so much that it oozes up between pieces, clogging up the groutlines.

If I really am troubled by a particular piece already glued down and set, I brush a little water around the piece, let it sit 5-10 minutes and lever it up with an awl or other sharp pointy instrument.  Sometimes a bit of the substrates comes up too, but it’s manageable.  Wear eye protection if you perform this operation, because glass can splinter when you apply force and it’s not fully loosened.  I make it a practice to leave individual pieces alone, until there are enough of them glued down to see if anything is glaring, or interrupting the flow, and then, I still remind myself that it’s the total effect that matters, and if I get in a mood and pull up more than I glue, it’s still never going to be perfect.

A final bonus with Weldbond–if you leave a bit out on the lid, and it dries clear, you can pull the clear vinyl-like disc off in a most satisfying manner.

Related:

5 Essential Tools for the Beginning Mosaic Maker

Wipe away the grout too soon and it all comes out of the gaps, degrouting your mosaic. It’s a balance of removing the excess before it hardens, without undoing the grouting.

And then the magic of the color emerging! This is the point of hope and relief and transformation. The color reasserts itself, comes glowing through the haze. I can scrub harder with a microfiber cloth, and dislodge the sandy residue. The process is much easier to handle if I just accept the studio will look like a herd of muddy cats came skittering through. I was fortunate to read some helpful advice on the Mosaic Artists Online Group about “dry grouting.” Some books suggest a slightly damp sponge for cleaning off grout, but that rejuvenates the muddy nature of the grout and can be very frustrating. Instead, the gentle friction of the microfiber cloth removes most of the haze.

I remove the green masking, and let the grout fully set for 48 hours, before sealing with Tile Lab Penetrating Sealer. I apply a coat with a paintbrush, and it soak in for 5-10 minutes, before polishing with a clean cloth, and repeating. The grout drinks up the sealer, and the sealer loosens the stubborn bits of haze from the tiles. Any remaining haze can usually be removed with a cotton swab lightly dipped in vinegar(I dab the swab on a paper towel after dipping). Vinegar is the nemesis of grout–acid to its alkaline, but small amounts applied just to the tiles for cleaning is very effective. I use a dental pick to dig out any buried areas, and excess glue–the scrubbies remove most of the glue, but some remains. The center orange glass tile has pinholes, and these require more effort with the dental pick. The red outer tiles are made of recycled bottles, with a smooth iridescent finish, and are a delight to clean. It’s as if they want to be cleaned, and shed the grout gracefully.

Then my husband takes a glowing picture of the final incarnation, and comes up with the cool caption of “Remove Grout, Add Light.”

According to Constellations of Words,

The word congruent comes from the Indo-European root *ghreu– ‘To rub, grind’. Derivatives: grit, groats, grout, gruel, grueling, great, groat, gruesome, chroma (color), chromatic, chromato-, chrome, –chrome, chromium, chromo-, chromosome, gravel, congruent, congruence. Pokorny 2. ghreu– 460. Watkins

It is only fitting that grout is relate to “grueling” in origin, since there are moments where grouting appears to be a crazy idea.  After making my chocolate truffle mixture, and in my nitrile gloves, I scoop up a handful of grout and begin to cover my mosaics. Some mosaicists use a grout float or other tool for distributing the grout among the interstices, but with the variety of textures and heights of the tesserae in my work, I find applying it by hand to be most effective.  As I massage the grout into the gaps, all color is obliterated in a muddy coating.  This is a leap of faith.  Covering all the carefully glued pieces with a type of cement is counterintuitive.

Fortunately, I’ve grouted enough pieces to be somewhat adapted to the moment of transformation!  But even now, there is a realization of the point of no return.  Grout can bring a mosaic together, like its cousin “congruent,” or it can be divisive.  A dark grout unites the dark elements and breaks apart the light ones, and a light grout does the opposite.  This mirror has a medium tone that is fairly uniform across reds and oranges, so the brown grout is like a setting for jewel tones, the black velvet under the sparkly ring.  Grout is about relationships between colors, and can change the perception of the tiles, drawing them forward, pushing them back, intensifying or diluting the color.

Out of my growing collection of mosaics to grout, I choose the red-orange mirror, and the green box. I masked both with green painters tape, and both will receive “chocolate truffle” grout. Painters tape usually comes off quite cleanly, even after a week or so, and makes an attractive edge. It’s quite magical to peel away the green, especially when everything is covered in grout. Grout is a a way to pull all the pieces together. In drawing class, the equivalent to the grout lines was “negative space.” The spaces in between have their own form and substance. Grouting is commitment. It is possible to use a dremel drill to grind the cementitious grout out, but this isn’t something I can fathom doing.

First, I pour acrylic admix into the bottom of a plastic container, about 1/2 inch deep. My admix has been renamed “grout enhancer” by the manufacturer, which sounds like steroids. It’s the consistency of milk. I add grout slowly, 1/2 cup to start, and then back and forth between grout, mix, liquid, mix. Once it is between cake batter and peanut butter in texture, I leave it sit for a minute or two to slake. Or as my first mosaic instructor said, until you’ve lost patience or said hello to your neighbor. Then mix again. This makes the grout stronger, letting it form a few bonds and then remixing.

There is a reason this one is called “chocolate.”