The Cost of Learning (and Teaching) Mosaic

 While brainstorming a new workshop idea on social media, I received a request to please price it affordably. There was a comment that mosaic instruction is often cost prohibitive, especially for people in depressed economies.

I am very sensitive to that concern. I've been there. When I started out, I was using Yahoo groups to glean any information about best techniques and products for mosaic. My fellow budding mosaicists and I used the forums to share our experiences, successes and failures, while we stumbled along our learning curves in a world without YouTube or the Society of American Mosaic Artists. 

Back then, in order to get good, professional instruction in the medium, you had to fly to Italy and work with the masters in Ravenna and Spilimbergo. Eventually, some of those students became accomplished in the field and began offering classes internationally, but we had to travel to them and a weekend workshop generally cost $300 or more. Total costs generally ran about $1000 for any good mosaic workshop, and it was a major hardship for me. At the time, I was the mother of a young child, supported by a teacher, earning some sporadic income from my artwork and occasional part-time jobs that didn't cover the cost of childcare. 

This is at a Facilitating Community Mosaic workshop in Oakland, CA in 2011

In 2009, the SAMA (Society of American Mosaic Artists) conference took place near enough to my in-laws that we decided to make a family trip of it. I was so impacted by this experience, I swore to keep investing in my growth as a mosaic artist, and while I haven't managed to attend every year, I used credit cards to pay for my expenses, wrote it off at tax time, and the investment paid off. Eventually, I was skilled enough to actually carve out a career as a mosaic artist; which still amazes me every day. Now, I'm a SAMA instructor and I've been able to pay for most of my conference expenses by teaching.

These days, you can find some great videos online for free or cheap. A commenter pointed out that Domestika is hosting a workshop by one of my favorite mosaic artists, the fabulous Gary Drostle, out of the U.K. The course costs something like $12 U.S. and is a wealth of information. Domestika is a big company, and I'm not super familiar with how they operate, but they do have a huge global reach. They have found a price point that works, apparently, and it must have been worthwhile for Gary to contract with them and put in the time, even though he receives only a small royalty for each enrollment. But he'll have students all over the world, so it will add up. 

I work with Mosaic Arts Online and I have three courses available on the platform. MAO was created by Tami Macala, the owner of Santa Barbara Mosaic School. Tami left her work in television behind to focus on her mosaic business. She is a practicing mosaic artist who hosts in-person workshops, and she had the brilliant idea to create stream-able courses with visiting artists as well. She brought her television experience to the enterprise, and I was immediately impressed with her attention to details like camera angles, lighting, visual clarity, being concise, breaking down the course into clear segments with transitions that make sense, and then editing it all together for a seamless experience for the student. These days, MAO has become a vital resource, with the best instructors teaching specific styles and techniques, and Tami's spouse, Jerry, now edits everything together.

I can attest that each course takes weeks, if not months, of preparation from the instructor, along with coordination by Tami. We fly to Santa Barbara at our expense, and she arranges everything for us - even providing a car. We spend the better part of a week filming the process on multiple demos created ahead of time, and generally not in chronological order because actual mosaic work takes so much time. I fly down with projects at different stages so that I can show all of the steps in a few days. Jerry rearranges everything so that it appears to be completed like magic, and still make sense for the student following along.

Here I am in the MAO studio, filming a garden mosaic workshop. That monitor on the work table is brand new, and allows me to see what the student will see, so I can correct my hand position and keep the project in the center of the screen, etc.

The business is now incorporated, has an attorney for contractual help, has a social media coordinator and accountant, etc. They have to pay for hosting fees and equipment and a whole array of overhead costs. But remember, they are still a tiny operation; just a couple with some extra help. 

So, the prices we charge are compensatory with the effort and overhead. Each time I visit, there's a new piece of equipment that is a giant improvement, like a wireless mic, a tablet with a teleprompter, and a video camera with remote zoom instead of a digital camera on a tripod mounted to the ceiling. This is all a longwinded way to say that Tami has grown this business from scratch, and the courses are priced to help the business succeed. None of us are getting rich. But the platform has allowed me, and the other artists, to earn some passive income once our courses are live, and to reach students who can't afford to fly to our location and take a more expensive in-person workshop.

In the meantime, I have ventured into recording my own stream-able workshops and I currently have one listed on my website for $50. I priced it lower partly to make it affordable, and also because I am keenly aware that it is makeshift, using a camera on a mount in my messy studio and with very little editing (because I don't have that software or skill set) and no outline or script. You don't get to download pdfs and slideshows, and I often forget to say something important until too late. I'll be working on putting together another class soon, and I'm sure it will be better, but it's still going to be just me and my cell phone in my actual workspace; low tech, casual, and straightforward. I've gotten positive feedback on the first one, so I feel emboldened to try it again. 

I do these, not because I love filming myself, or to get attention - I hate both passionately. I'm doing it  because I like teaching, and because the extra income really helps keep my family solid between commissions. With the courses I'm creating from home, I'm happy to help out someone in another country for whom the price represents 3 months income, so if that's you, send me an email. 

And I do recommend checking out all of the amazing online resources that are now available to aspiring mosaic artists. Join facebook groups and find YouTube channels like https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCavAkUITnile1MQdv0cX5VA and https://www.youtube.com/c/LouAnnWeeks and https://www.youtube.com/c/TreasuryRoad. But if you really want to advance with your work, taking professional level workshops with practicing artists is invaluable. And they deserve to be paid for their time and for sharing their talent, which they have spent years (or decades) cultivating.

And have fun!

My courses on Mosaic Arts Online:

https://mosaicartsonline.com/p/garden-mosaic-for-any-climate-with-jennifer-kuhns

https://mosaicartsonline.com/p/professional-mosaic-installations-with-jennifer-kuhns

https://mosaicartsonline.com/p/precision-cutting-stained-glass-for-mosaic-with-jennifer-kuhns

https://mosaicartsonline.com/p/bundle-courses-garden-mosaic-and-precision-cutting-stained-glass-with-jennifer-kuhns

https://mosaicartsonline.com/p/bundle-courses-precision-cutting-in-stained-glass-and-professional-installations-with-jennifer-kuhns

A White Person In Solidarity -June 21, 2020

*Note: This was originally published in June 2020. 

I just listened to this morning's Up First bonus podcast, "Why Now, White People?"

I missed Gene Demby's call for answers to this question, but found the responses very compelling. They ranged to include a mass reaction to Trump's racist rhetoric, prevalence of footage of the murders of African American people, stay-at-home orders affording people more time to pay attention and protest, peer pressure and permission, and rising tensions caused by the pandemic that generally results in acting-out behavior. Apparently, quarantines often coincide with riots.

My own experience has some additional factors, and I don't know how common it is. For background, I am of Scandinavian and Baltic descent with other white European ancestry mixed in. I came out pale, blonde, blue-eyed and predominately heterosexual. I grew up in a very white, rural area of Michigan, but frequently visited my grandparents in Saginaw, which was much more diverse. I preferred the diversity. From an early age, I felt drawn to people from different ethnic backgrounds, and I disliked the small-minded community where I went to school up north. As soon as I graduated high school, I moved to Washington State. Yes, the Pacific NW is far less diverse than many other areas of the U.S. but the liberal attitudes appealed to me, and most of all, I gravitated to the mountains, ocean and mild weather.

The Evergreen State College, my alma mater in Olympia, is an unconventional liberal arts school where, in 1989, I enrolled and was intensely challenged to examine my personal biases and to question everything I had ever learned. Coming from a small-town education where my high school history teacher showed us Westerns and took us to a civil war reenactment to teach us history, I scrambled to catch up with my fellow students. I learned that there were entire bodies of creative work by non-white people that I had not been introduced to. I took classes in cultural anthropology, feminist film theory, and political science. I read the Quran, Mahabharata, and spent a year on Native American studies. I went through a lot of difficult self-examination and absorbed feedback from fellow students who said I was too interested in other cultures, and should focus on my own culture, which is something I continue to explore.

For 20 years, I have been a working artist, often facilitating public art projects that engage disenfranchised communities. While feedback from participants is always extremely positive, I've received comments suggesting that it is not my place; that I might be acting out of self-interest, exploiting underprivileged people to feel good about myself. Many of my artworks are of people. I have gotten some critical feedback for representing people with non-white features, implying that, again, it is a kind of exploitation. If I make work that celebrates people of color, some see it as appropriation. I am not interested in making all of my work about white women. That story has been told. I am very interested in telling untold stories, as with a mosaic I made of Edmonia Lewis.

As years passed, I continued to read books by non-white authors, follow non-white artists, watch t.v. and movies by and about people of color, to listen to non-white podcasters, and generally to keep trying to be aware. But, I still live in Washington, in a very rural area. I have Mexican friends and Native friends. A very large portion of my friends are LGBTQIA. I have six white friends with black children, but only a few, far-flung African American acquaintances. It is impossible for me to have meaningful conversations about race with people of color without accosting someone I don't know in an entirely inappropriate manner. I do have great conversations with other friends who are also working on these things, but it's a limited perspective.

In the past, I've occasionally posted resources, sticking to: "I listened to this Code Switch episode and it was really good. Follow the link." Or, "Have any of you been watching 'Dear White People'? I recommend it!" Speaking up about race in social media feels very tricky as a white person. I feel like I'm saying, "Look at me! I'm so woke!" It feels self-congratulatory. It has always been hard for me to figure out how to have these conversations.

In mid-May, I listened to the audio book by Ijeoma Oluo, "So You Want to Talk about Race." I humbly posted a recommendation on my facebook page, as usual. In fact, Ijeoma gave me a lot to think about. The most important lesson for me was that conversations about race can be awkward, we will make mistakes, sometimes it will go very badly - but we have to keep trying. White people have to be willing to take negative feedback, listen, reflect, then do it again. Too many of us retreat in shame or defensiveness. Her words were fresh in my mind at the end of May.

And then Ahmaud Arbery was brutally killed by white vigilantes, then the news of Breonna Taylor's murder was released, and then George Floyd's killing took place, all within a short time. And everyone with a conscience was shaken by it. People were talking about it and posting about it online. Knowing I had black friends, however distant, and friends with black children, I had to post something. I needed them to know I was enraged and grief stricken and that there are white people who are on their side. I saw videos of white women doing and saying such embarrassingly racist things, I felt the need to disassociate myself with that kind of person. I spoke out more. As more and more people I know have been taking a stand, I feel less like one white person trying to prove how enlightened she is, and more like part of a collective voice saying "We stand with Black Lives Matter." Before, speaking up as a white person felt like I was making it about me. Now it feels like it's about Us, and it's a big Us, and it's a relief to know how many (nearly all) of my friends support this movement.

The hosts of the show sound, understandably, skeptical. Suddenly, all these white people are speaking out who were not before. And it's true; I have friends who argued with me on the topic less than a year ago who are fully engaged now. But I do think it's genuine. I think we are going to keep making mistakes and getting it wrong and, collectively, white people still have a long way to go, but there is a sea change taking place. Many who felt shy about speaking up before are emboldened. We are listening and working hard to learn.

The devastating aspect of all of this is the increase in violence against people of color right now. I feel certain that the entitled white people who are committed to racism and terrified of change are in the minority, but they are freaked out and filled with hate-fueled anger. And they have guns. But they are a dwindling sector of society and I truly hope they will soon be shamed into hiding and that future generations will be free from that kind of prejudice. I have to believe this.

Black Lives Matter Exhibition

 This week, I attended the opening reception and other events for an exhibition at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art in Pullman, WA in the theme of Black Lives Matter. The main exhibition is a body of work by Alison Saar that speaks to her experience as a biracial woman in the U.S. The rest of the museum is filled with work by 20 artists who were selected to receive a grant to create new art for this show. 

I am one of those 20 artists. When I saw the RFQ last year, I decided to apply because I have been wanting to create public art for Thurston County (WA State) that honors and celebrates non-white community members, and I had an idea to use this grant to support that work. 

Let me jump back to the motivation, because I have not made art about social justice issues, for the most part. The themes in my work have focused more on women, mythology and religion, and a reciprocal relationship with Nature. However, with the racially-motivated violence that has punctuated the past several years (which is simply more visible due to phone and body cameras), I found myself wondering what I could do to support the Black Lives Matter movement? 

Back in 2017, I made a mosaic portrait of Edmonia Lewis, a mixed race (Haitian/Native American) sculptor who was prominent in the 1800s. Included in the background, under glass, are bits of her story and work. My goal was to provoke further research, and for the viewer to ask themselves why she is largely unknown? This piece was purchased by the City of Seattle for permanent collection in the Office of Art and Culture.

When I learned of Breonna Taylor's story, one thing that struck me was that she seemed to be underrepresented in the media. As memes began to be shared along with the "Say Her Name" directive, I felt compelled to create a small mosaic portrait of her. I saw too many white people using her name and image to get "likes" and hits, and my hope was to find a way to help raise awareness and possibly to sell or auction the mosaic to donate to an appropriate charity. The portrait was included in a couple of exhibits, and eventually I managed to connect with Tamika Palmer, Breonna's mom, and the portrait now belongs to her. In the end, that felt like the right outcome. 

And that's all I had to demonstrate my interest in making art in the BLM theme, plus many examples of mosaic portraiture I've done as portable and permanent public art. But I also had an idea inspired by the dearth of public art in my area that in any way celebrates the Black community. There is one mural in downtown Olympia in honor of Rebecca Howard. 

My idea, and the proposal I pitched for the grant opportunity, was to create a mosaic portrait of Nat and Thelma Jackson, a powerhouse couple who have spent their lives working for racial equity and much more. (Read more here: https://www.sos.wa.gov/legacy/sixty-eight/nat-and-thelma-jackson/) The portrait would be made on tile board using techniques to make it weatherproof, so that I could find a way to have it installed as public art, and it would be safe to put it outside. 

I really thought it was a long shot, so I was shocked to learn that I was one of the artists selected! There are so many talented artists of color, I really doubted I would be considered. My submission was very clear that I am white, and mentioned that the movement needs those of us in privilege to step up and stand with our Black community, or nothing will change. When I look back at photos and film of events like the march in Selma or the Lunch Counter Sit-Ins or the Freedom Riders, I see the white protesters who joined in the fight, and I want to be that kind of person. I want to be on the right side of history, and I want to fight for a better world. 

Over the past year, I've talked with Nat and Thelma to explain what I wanted to do, get their permission, and make sure I was representing them in a way that felt empowering for them. We also discussed at length how to site the mosaic, and Nat guided me toward working with the City of Lacey, WA. Their roots go deep in Lacey. As it turns out, Goose Pond was once the Jackson's property, and the Lacey Community Center is located next to it. The Jacksons live nearby, so at this time, the most likely location for the portrait is there, inside of the community center in a prominent spot. 

*Note: The background was chosen partly because Nat loves to garden and Thelma loves flowers. I chose the soft, sweeping colors and shapes to contrast with the smaller, tight spacing in the figures, so they would come forward. The foliage also represents the seeds planted by Nat and Thelma in Washington State and Thurston County, and how they have cultivated positive change that will continue to grow and flourish for future generations.

When the exhibition opened and it was time to drive 6 hours to the other side of the state, I did have some trepidation. I didn't know what to expect. The opening fell during possibly the busiest time frame of my career, when I was scheduled back to back for multiple events and an installation, so I barely had time to be nervous. No one was flexible enough to accompany me for three days midweek, so I knew I would be arriving alone, not knowing anyone. And I was pretty sure, as a PLC (Person Lacking Color) I would be in the minority among the artists. While driving, I thought through how to answer any questions that might come up so that I would be less likely to misspeak or freeze. I knew I wanted to focus on talking about the Jacksons and not myself. 

I did not expect to be the only white artist included in the show. 

Had I known, would I have politely declined to attend? No. Was it uncomfortable? Yes.

I kept Ijeoma Oluo's advice in mind throughout the event. It's hard, and you might get it wrong, but don't put your tail between your legs and give up. Keep trying. I felt it was important to be there, but also to be quiet. I decided immediately that I wouldn't speak up unless asked. I listened and my fellow artists spoke and it was intense. I felt like an outsider and I wondered if I belonged there. My mosaic was featured prominently. It sparkles. But it was not made out of lived experience with racism. The other artists presented work that is their insides on full view. It is angst and pain and fear and hope all fashioned out of paint and torn paper and fabric and metal. It is generations of violence, objectification and nightmares laid out bare for the public to witness. I felt keenly aware of how my work is different from theirs. Still, I believe down to my bones that we need to stand together, and that change only happens if those of us with power stand alongside those without. 

Here is a link to an article about the show: https://dnews.com/local/social-justice-artistic-impact/article_cae87b45-1bc8-5d33-90dc-91306417942f.html?fbclid=IwAR1QxNWvKbZstnTTkW8awVqpszggtwYWNUPwPexBekkoNwykHnG-ozpsNqI