Explosion at the China Factory: Garden Art for the Artistically Inept

I once showed a friend a picture of a beautiful handmade birdhouse.  Exquisitely   crafted and sold through an art gallery, it was the work of an artist with a unique talent. While I dreamed up ways of paying for it, she looked it over and casually remarked, "I could make that." You can?? I was shocked. Not only did I have no idea of how to begin such a project, I didn't want to. I simply wanted to own it.

Last summer, in the midst of realizing my garden was in need of a huge makeover, I decided it also needed a little funk, soul, groove, mojo. Call it what you will, but my garden needed a jolt of personality, especially the front porch. Shady and often forgotten about while I concentrated on the larger garden in the back, my front porch was a dismal desert of blahness. In my desperation to find something that would grow without needing an aquatic IV, I stuck birdhouses in large pots, planted creeeping bramble in the front, and called it a day. But what I really wanted was a cool piece of art I could stick on the front porch to add some color and funk. Interested in mosaics, I soon realized large pieces were vastly beyond my garden budget. In a moment of stress and sleep deprivation induced insanity, it occurred to me that maybe I could make my own.

My mosaic pot is filled with periwinkle (vinca) vines. They are still quite small but the enormous 'Baltyk' clematis is happily growing over the top of the pot. A small round birdhouse is potted in the grey urn, but the clematis has devoured that, too.

I began an internet search of mosaic garden projects only to discover web pages with multipage directions requiring supplies I wasn't interested in buying and didn't know how to use. But I'd seen enough pictures of incredible mosaic art, that I just kept searching for directions that made sense to someone as artistically challenged as myself. When I finally found them, they went like this: "Take a hammer and smash stuff and then get concrete and stick the stuff to other stuff." I'm not sure what rocket scientist wrote these heart softening words, but I figured if that was all it took, I could possibly succeed.

A few trips to the thrift store and Lowe's later, I was ready to begin. I had decided to wrap the ceramic plates in newspaper, stuff the bundle in a plastic bag, stick the bundle in an empty storage container and then begin smashing. Then I waited. Several heated conversations later with my angst-ridden teenage son, I headed to the basement, a hammer in hand. Clad in pajamas, a dog chewed baseball hat, and goggles, I grabbed the plates and started smashing. The release was profound, cathartic, and wonderfully loud. What I lacked in artistry, I made up for in teenagers. The final plates were smashed by my daughter and her best friend after both having emotional, "I hate boys because they smell and are stupid" days at school.

Creating my mosaic took a year and is best viewed from a distance. From across the street, I am the mutant genius lovechild of Picasso and Michelangelo. From the porch, I am a lunatic with a hammer and too much concrete. But if I can do it, ANYBODY can do it.

My pot came out just like me: colorful and a bit funky.

I didn't bother to grout it since it was so uneven and the ceramic plates were of different thicknesses.

Step One: Buy a pot.  

Step Two: Go to a thrift store and buy ceramic/china plates. Tell the sales clerk not to wrap them since you're going to smash them, anyway. Enjoy her confused expression. 

I chose plates with bright colors in either florals or solids.

I used the round lip on these plates to form the edge of the design near the top of the pot.

Step Four: Smash the plates!

I didn't use the green glass pieces since they didn't show up well against the concrete.

I eventually separated them into color families. 

Step Five: Mix equal parts wood glue and water and then brush onto the surface of your pot. Let it dry.

Once the pot had been primed with watered down wood glue, I mixed this with enough water to make a thick mixture. Using a cheap triangular shaped trowel I found with the masonry supplies at Lowe's, I applied a blob of concrete onto the pot, spread it fairly evenly and then stuck on a piece of smashed ceramic plate. It was really easy.

I turned my front porch into a workshop.

I added the flat marbles because I wasn't sure I'd have enough ceramic pieces. I like the contrast of their smoothness against the rough texture of the concrete.

Once I was finally done, I stuffed the bottom of the pot with bags of sand to give it stability. 

I wedged a piece of styrofoam into the pot above the sand to give the flower pots a level surface to sit on.

I found two pots in the garage to use for the plants. Since they won't be visible, I didn't care what they looked like.

The pot doesn't have a drainage hole, so I put an aluminum tray leftover from the project under one of the pots and an old plastic drainage tray under the other.

Goodbye, Dismal Desert of Blahness! Hello, Happy!

NOTE: I discovered after posting this that several of the plates I used had been donated by a close friend to the thrift store where I went shopping. Now I love my pot even more!