Ask A Genius 1136: Micromosaics and Bent Hangers on an Easel
Author(s): Rick Rosner and Scott Douglas Jacobsen
Publication (Outlet/Website): Ask A Genius
Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2024/10/31
Rick Rosner: When you have plates you want to show off, you get those little easels that keep them from being used as actual plates. I bend hangers into easels to support micromosaics that have lost their stands.
Scott Douglas Jacobsen: When did you first get into micromosaics?
Rosner: My wife had one or two pieces that she inherited from her mom, and she thought they were pretty. Carole is particular in a good way—she’s thoughtful about what she likes and doesn’t. When we go out to eat, I’ll eat any old thing, but she’s a lot harder to impress when it comes to food. She’s not a constant critic, but she has a refined taste.
Jacobsen: Has she always been a critic?
Rosner: Not in a bad way, but she used to review movies when she worked at Avon. She’d write little reviews for the Avon newsletter in New York City. That was fun for her, but she’s still quite discerning.
Jacobsen: So, how did you get into micromosaics for her?
Rosner: Around 2017, I started researching the world of micromosaics because I wanted to find something she would unreservedly love. It’s a little niche, and there are probably a couple million of these pieces in people’s homes, with the fancier ones in museums. Most were made between the late 18th century, starting around 1785 and into the 19th century.
A few micromosaics were made in the 18th century, but by the 1820s, they became a full-blown industry in Rome and Venice. Probably dozens of fancy micromosaics were available in boutiques— jewelry stores near the Spanish Steps in Rome. Wealthy young men and women on the Grand Tour of Europe would buy these as souvenirs. By around 1850, hundreds or even thousands of these high-end pieces were being made.
And then you had the cheaper ones for regular tourists, which probably became more common in the late 19th century as the Grand Tour faded—ly wiped out by World War I. But plenty of tourists still didn’t want to spend the equivalent of £200 or £300 on something fancy but would spend £3 on a small brooch with mosaic flowers. World War I didn’t help tourism, of course. While there was some tourism during the fascist era in Italy starting in 1922, World War II pretty much killed the micromosaic industry.
Only a few micromosaics were made after WWII, and the industry never returned. So, we’re looking at about 150 years of production, which isn’t long in the antique world. If you collect something chairs, you’ve got thousands of years of history, but with micromosaics, it’s a century and a half. Still, they cranked out quite a few, especially the cheaper ones.
It’s a pretty constrained field—only a certain range of products like mirrors, picture frames, brooches, and pendants, most of which are framed in pressed brass. There’s also a size limit because brass, often used for the frames, can get heavy. This one I’m holding weighs about 14 ounces, and over time, the weight of the glass deforms the brass, causing it to fall apart. The same goes for wood—it eventually deforms under the weight. You’re limited to smaller pieces unless you’re making something a tabletop out of marble, which would be reinforced. But I can’t afford, nor do I have space for, a $10,000 marble micromosaic tabletop.
So, within those constraints, most of the designs are flowers, which Carole loves.
I like the constraints, and I appreciate the variety within those limitations. That’s what I enjoy in science fiction. I’m meh about a lot of sci-fi because it’s set so far from our actual world—it’s full of lazy imagination without enough guardrails or structure. I prefer near-future science fiction that takes our current world and extrapolates from it but stays within recognizable boundaries.
Clifford Simak’s City or Charles Stross’s Accelerando? Accelerando is a great example. Stross tries to imagine what AI will do to the world over different time scales: 1 year, 10 years, 100 years, and then 1,000 years. Each chapter jumps forward by a factor of ten into the future. It’s a hard job, but he’s one of the few people who can think about the future in a way that doesn’t annoy me.
I enjoy stories that stick largely to reality. You’ve got to figure out how the future evolves from our reality. These mosaics are subject to many limitations. However, they still allow for creativity within those constraints. The end.
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In-Sight Publishing by Scott Douglas Jacobsen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. ©Scott Douglas Jacobsen and In-Sight Publishing 2012-Present. Unauthorized use or duplication of material without express permission from Scott Douglas Jacobsen strictly prohibited, excerpts and links must use full credit to Scott Douglas Jacobsen and In-Sight Publishing with direction to the original content.
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