Dear Suzy,
I have a concrete patio out back that I would like to cover with a mosaic
� la Constantinople, Pompeii, etc. I believe the ancients used pebbles
or tiny, marble cubes. Do you know some suitable material and/or process for
the accomplishment? Some micro-tile? The constraints are: 1) I am not rich and
2) the end product must be smooth, for I am a die-hard bare-footer.
Much Thanks,
Prost
Dear Prost,
You fail to mention whether you’re patient. I’m looking at some photos in an
old National Geographic of 1,600-year-old mosaics, preserved and hidden until
they were uncovered in the 1950s and I’m counting the multi-hued tiles that
make up one patrician’s knee: 84. Eighty-four teeny-tiny, four-sided tiles
called tesserae, from the Latin word for dice. I think if you’re looking
to lay a patio in this style, you better get hold of some loaded dice and win a
bundle of money because you’ll need it to pay for the hundreds of artisans you
will have to hire or to buy that expensive medication people who attempt
something like this on their own usually wind up having to take on a daily
basis.
If you do happen to roll a lucky seven, plan on spending $8-20 a square foot
for 3/8″ x 3/8″ glass mosaics (which come on a rubber
sheet) or $14 per pound of handcut “bulk Byzantine.” This is actually cheaper
than I thought it would be, but considering your patio might be 200 sq. ft.,
we’re talking $1,600-4,000 for materials, not counting thin set, mortar, and a
case of tequila. Kellie, at Dal-Tile, a wholesale tile distributor, was nice
enough to fax me a price list for mosaic murals which they can order. My
problem is now I want one of the marine animals — the 76″ x 51″ spotted
dolphin would look grand on my shower floor.
I guess I can sell my car to come up with the needed cash — $1,904. Or, if I
sell my Whole Foods stock before it plunges any further into the toilet, maybe
I could get the 18″ x 17″ marine turtle for $772.72.
While you may be tempted to get surplus tiles of all colors and sizes
(Habitat’s Re-Store on Comal often has stacks of orphaned tile for cheap) and
smash them yourself, I would like you to take a look at my friend Celia’s hands
and arms. She quit her corporate job a few years ago and began smashing tiles
and covering anything that will stand still with her incredible mosaics —
Chagall-inspired designs on pots, angelic table tops, and giant cement
creatures she covers in psychedelic colors. When she’s in the throes of one of
her projects, she is shredded from finger tip to shoulder by the knife-sharp
edges of the broken pieces of tile.
Those mosaic geniuses, the Byzantine, were great artists, but not the most
tolerant people. They would drown or decapitate anyone caught selling or making
the purple cloth reserved for royalty; without a doubt, I would merit similar
punishments for even suggesting the following half-ass solution:
What about painting or staining a design? Your bare toes are happy. Your
pocket book is happy. And you won’t have to keep flying out to Vegas or meeting
up with all those flimflam men in dark alleys to feed your gambling monster.
Hey, last week I must’ve had my head inside my Asko washer. The EcoFair was at
Palmer Auditorium. I hope you found it, because it was worth the search.
My apologies to the great EcoFair organizers.
This article appears in January 31 • 1997 and January 31 • 1997 (Cover).