Our lived experience comprises thousands and thousands of snippets—sights, sounds, conversations, places. As we reflect on our memories, we make connections between them and perceive patterns. Like the tesserae of a mosaic, the individual fragments of our lives converge when creatively arranged and reveal a whole.
Studying in Italy, I visited Ravenna to see the famous mosaics of the San Vitale Basilica. I was mesmerized. Tiny, juxtaposed fragments of stone and glass transformed into stunning images. A conservator was methodically mapping a region of the wall—veins of marble, glass tesserae, and painstakingly applied gold leaf. It was enthralling to watch him document it: not a single tessera was too insignificant to record.
My caregiving jobs this year have involved long periods of waiting—hospital bedsides, medical appointments, the hair salon. I have sketched and sketched: the potted plant, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, the grids and patterns of floor tiles. Thinking back to San Vitale, even these experiences, mundane and monotonous as they may seem, are the tesserae of my life.
For years I have accumulated bags of scrap textiles collected by family and friends no longer able to use them. While these bags sat in a basement, I have wrestled with how to repurpose the scraps with reverence for their history. In my reflecting on San Vitale, I decided to treat each of the fabric scraps as a tessera, and together the tesserae would form a mosaic, much like the ones adorning the basilica. The process was monotonous, mirroring these periods of waiting, chopping two-inch squares, arranging them like a paint palette, fusing them, sewing them, pinning them together. Much like life experiences might not be fully revealed until later, I was never able to fully see the entire quilt as I worked since it did not fit in my workspace. Up close, one sees small, repeated squares, but upon stepping back, the fabric tesserae fuse together, uniting to form something majestic.
