Diana Maria Rossi
Words on Paper/ The Junkman’s Daughter
I have been making mosaics for almost 27 years, and in that time I have learned much about the nature of craft and art, about color, and about the infinite possibilities one has to arrange and manipulate material in order to express oneself. I think I have at last understood why the visual arts are termed the “plastic” arts. (I think, though, that I am mostly making up my own idea of the plastic arts!). And I have discovered that I am certainly a "piecer" --- one who makes stuff by putting together disparate, or even similar elements. It's the bringing together, bit by painful bit, that is my forte. For me the "gestalt”, or total coming together at once, usually informs only my choice of content, and sometimes my choice of color. Or idea. Almost always an idea comes to me like one big jumbled mess.
I love to work small scale and I have a lot of patience when it comes to the laying down of small pieces of glass, my tesserae. One of the reasons that I prefer working small scale, is the ease with which one can control the whole space, and use very tiny tesserae to define that space. Or could it be that I live in a smallish house, work in a
gnome-like space under the eaves, and am generally less intimidated by the tiny, the intimate? I suppose it doesn’t matter.
I am still entranced by the glittery, the jewel-like, and to those ends, glass is the perfect medium for me. My love of reading and words make their way into my mosaics too, as I have been increasingly incorporating text into my
pieces. I often use photographs, drawings, nails, and other metal pieces to round out, or evoke something beyond the glass surface. And now I am using junk -- plain, old, discarded objects or pieces of these things.
I am a junkman's daughter, after all.
Diana Maria Rossi
Words on Paper / Breadcrumbs
As my favorite Half-Great Uncle, Carlo Alberto Mancini, once said to me, in parting, “I’ll see you on the Long Journey."
He was saying good-bye, but only good-bye for now, with hopes for the Hereafter or that something trailing long before and after our smidgen of a life.
For me, the making of things has been a more meaningful part of my time on this earthly leg of the Long Journey.
I hope to leave bits of my work behind; as smiles, as markers, as tears, as exclamations, as wonderings and small questions.
A wave along the way. Breadcrumbs? I want to honor my ancestors.