When it comes to opinions my Muse has a mind of her own.
A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Away…
To be clear, the year was 2004 and the galaxy was Fair Oaks, California. That’s when we built the pizza oven.
To be truthful, we didn’t build it by ourselves. It took a village.
The oven itself, which came all the way from Italy, was a terra-cotta contraption of eight interlocking parts that needed to be “housed” yet the written instructions were somewhat cryptic on this point. The manufacturer assumed that EVERYONE in 2004 knew what a finished pizza oven should look like.
Having endless imagination confined by a restricted budget, we used cinderblock.
My one aesthetic contribution: Glazed tiles. The A to Z of pizza toppings.
For 17 years , our 8x8x8 cinderblock behemoth, with it’s skinny- belt of alphabet tiles, pumped out pizzas. It fed our friends and warmed our hearts.
Then came the pandemic.
The downside and upside of “sheltering at home”: it invites scrutiny while offering permission.
During our last 30 years of household renovations, I’ve saved stuff: extra tile, broken mirror, leftover lumber.Are all artists hoarders? Perhaps. Or, like the Wicked Witch of the West, are we simply biding our time?
For years, these boxes of building materials had been taking up space in our shed.So, when I asked my spouse “What would you think if I used that leftover tile on the pizza ov–“
“You go, gurl! ” He said.
Happily, some fully vaccinated wizards of my acquaintance dropped by to offer their assistance which, for one halcyon Tuesday afternoon, made life feel almost like normal again. Grateful thanks to Dianne Van der Carr, Marilynn Rasmussen, Ann O' Connell and Abby the Wonder Dog.
The finished product: :Mirror, broken ceramic tile, pebbles, and glass. Black slate interior.
The Back: A mural. Just because.