Once upon a time in a small Hamlet, there came to live a magical gypsy woman, my friend Mara. She brought light and joy and adventure into my life.
I met Mara when she moved into the same small town I used to live in. Actually she, with her partner, Rob purchased the old harness shop building that contained my upstairs apartment. She evicted me…nicely. Well, if I were continuing this as a fable, I would say she freed me from my tower. And we have been friends ever since.
She has many talents. She writes, produces events, creates web sites, journals for herself and others, and is the mosaic mistress, the guru of gluing, the creator of craft, the original and only true tile gypsy. Her work is truly art, so much so that she was asked to create a how -to book of mosaics. Which she did wonderfully. Making Mosaics with Found Objects
Mara makes magic, she picks up a small bit of china and in that bit sees an entire work of art. While I was still living near her, she enticed me to go out in the evening streets of our small town, and fill in the cracks. We filled cracks, corners, and walls, sidewalks with delightful whimsy of china bits, and pieces, little knick- knacks, pennies, anything that caught our magpie eyes; treasures brightening the town, and healing some old pains. We have been told, by some, that if their spot did not have a Mara mosaic they felt left out.
I think Mara arrives at her small hamlet to heal some parts of it. This town has a long history of pain, hushed secrets, all hidden in those cracks and crevices, and down the skinny, sometimes clutter filled alleys between the buildings. Mara shines light where she goes, and opens eyes, allows thoughts expressed. Her conversations start others conversing, thinking. She positively shakes up the status quo. Her laugh and love embraces the town.
I love to visit Mara’s building. 225 Water Street. I have watched it change from a rather sad, rickety building haunted by old standards and old hurt, to a lovely warm environment.
Mara gardens; she has created a wonderful land of flowers and growth in her own alley, full of laughter, bees, and happiness. She has healed her alley.
Her small hamlet will never be the same, and that is perfect.
Tilly Evan Jones 