I’ve just arrived back from my first mosaics class, which was in Gawler. It took me about an hour each way, but it’s worth it because I’m determined to master the art of mosaics. I have so many goals and ideas that I want to pursue, but first, I need to grasp the basics.
I tried mosaics around eleven years ago and had a few lessons back then, but tonight I told the teacher I was an absolute beginner and wanted to start from scratch. She had glass displayed at the front of her shop, but in her studio, she had ceramic tiles, which most people seemed to be using — so I just went with that.
I purchased a small pot and decided it would be my first finished mosaic piece. My goal is eventually to work with glass, but I also really like the look of ceramic. The teacher showed me how to use the tile cutter machine and the hand-held tools, and then I got stuck into it.
I really enjoyed it. The lesson went for two hours, and I’m definitely going back next week. In fact, I’d like to make it a regular thing. Kate also runs daytime classes, and I’d love to do those as well, but with my sleep the way it is, it’s just not possible — so I decided to start with the night class instead.
You can see below the beginnings of my mosaic pot. I chose a patterned design tile with a black base, then picked out black and blue pieces from the colours in the first tile. I’m going to have a play around with colour, but to be honest, I’m eager just to finish it off so I can learn how to grout it. Still, I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
To give you some background: between 2011 and 2013, I was overcome with artistic inspiration. A lot of it came from my fascination with the idea of Lady Justice being blind and love being blind — and that connection sparked something deep in me. It prompted me to start writing letters.
I also began to see a connection between the laws of the heart and the laws of the land — the way language and meaning overlap. Things like chambers of the heart and chambers of law, coroner and coronary, even cardiac arrest. These ideas became threads I wanted to follow.
I wrote to Chief Justices and Supreme Courts around the world, asking for copies of the oaths they use in their courtrooms. I wrote to barristers’ chambers and asked about the chambers themselves, and then I even wrote to prisons, asking about the cells inside them. In total, I wrote hundreds of letters.
When the responses came in, I scanned them all so I’d have copies. My original plan was to burn the physical letters in a glass furnace, turning them into molten glass, and then learn to blow a piece from it. At first, this was going to be just for me — a deeply personal work — but when I shared the idea with a few artists, they loved the oaths and encouraged me to make something bigger of the project.
That’s what inspired me to go to art school in 2013.
Eventually, though, I folded most of the letters into 1,000 paper cranes and put the entire project aside. At the time, I didn’t fully understand copyright law. I assumed that if someone wrote you a letter, you owned it and could do whatever you wanted with it — but I later learned, sadly, that isn’t the case.
Now that I’m returning to study contemporary art and planning to finish my degree, I’ve decided to revisit the project — this time with a clearer vision. My goal is to use letters as an artistic medium and a way to express myself through both visual art and writing books.
I can’t really afford a lawyer, but I’ve been working with Arts Law, an incredible organisation that offers phone consultations — something like $200 for five sessions. There are some limitations, like not being able to discuss the same issue twice, but from speaking with them I’ve learned about exceptions under the Copyright Act that I can make use of — particularly satire.
As part of this project, I intend to write to every Chief Justice in the world again, requesting copies of their oaths, but I haven’t started that yet. I’m just hoping the judges’ secretaries don’t remember me from more than ten years ago — which, realistically, is unlikely.
The other project I mentioned yesterday involves writing to all the heads of government worldwide, asking for copies of the oaths they took when they came into office.
I’ve always loved letter writing. I actually started writing letters for Amnesty International, campaigning for the release of prisoners of conscience. I’ve always believed there’s something powerful and personal about receiving a letter in the post rather than an email. Amnesty has used this for decades as an incredibly effective tool, and it inspired me to see letters as more than just communication — but as a medium for change.
I want to use letters as art: to create works that make thought-provoking statements about justice, humanity, and truth — and I want to do it without being sued.
