A detour and a reintroduction: The 2nd International Mosaic Symposium in Baja California

Recently I travelled to Rosarito, Mexico, where I participated in the 2^nd International Mosaic Symposium in Baja California, organized by Maestro Giulio Menossi (Italy) and Aida Valencia (Mexico). 

For the non-mosaicists reading, here’s the symposium in a nutshell: a dozen or so artists from all over the world are invited to come and each make a mosaic about the symposium’s chosen theme, and they have a little less than 2 weeks to do it (which, in mosaic terms, is Really Fucking Fast). 

This was my first symposium, and I was one of only three who had never participated in one before. To say I was nervous is an understatement. Looking back, it was a whirlwind of hard work, creative exchange, and belly laughs (and a few moments of mild stress). As someone with a non-art day job, spending two weeks in the studio all day, every day, surrounded by ridiculously talented artists was both a luxury and a privilege. Would I do it again? Yes, absolutely, without hesitation. 

What’s neat about the symposium is that the work you do there is your work, and it’s good work. But if you were given the exact same prompt in your studio, the work you’d produce would be very different. At the symposium you’re constantly adjusting to your circumstances – working fast, adjusting on the fly, using what’s available (did a lot of us raid the pile of construction debris outside the studio? Yes, yes we did), adopting a slightly different order of operations, incorporating inspiration and advice from the people around you, trying to keep your brain just one step ahead of your hands… It’s an experience that pushes your creative limits, but in a good way.

The theme for this particular symposium was “Gender, culture, and migration.” Certainly a rich theme that allowed for all sorts of interpretations and explorations. Even my normal environment-focused work could have found an easy connection there. But I chose to take a little detour from my usual and, instead, do something quite personal. 

So, before I introduce you to my piece, let me (re-)introduce myself:

Hey, I’m Julie, and I’m non-binary (they/them).

The more I thought about the theme for the symposium, the more I knew I wanted to do something about gender and, more specifically, something that incorporated some of my own gender journey.¹ Not because my experience is exceptional, but because: 

1. The transphobia flying around right now is a LOT and just being a visible trans person out in the world feels significant. (Note: while I identify personally as non-binary, the general rage I feel in these Unprecedented Times makes me feel drawn to identifying politically as trans.) 
2. Representation matters! I don’t often see myself reflected in depictions of trans and gender-diverse folks, which has led to a lot of imposter syndrome and self-doubt (even though logically I know that there is no one right way to be trans or non-binary). So if sharing my experience can help even one person who also feels and/or looks this way,² then that’s reason enough to do it. 

Quick aside: I’m using footnotes in this post to add some colour commentary about my own experience. Like all footnotes, they are not required reading! (Using them is also a little ode to R, who never met a footnote she didn’t like, and I do so love her.) 

Anyway, back to business. My symposium piece is called “Disruptive without apology” and it’s both a depiction of my personal experience and a meditation on being trans or gender non-conforming in today’s political climate. It’s my torso (yes, I laid down and traced myself as a starting point), but modified to be a bit more abstract because abstract is my jam. The lower portion is meant to evoke a feeling of heaviness and hostility (aka the world around us). This is in contrast with the lighter upper portion, which speaks to the freedom that comes with figuring out who you are, doing things that align with that, and being accepted by those who matter in your life. I can’t tell you the sense of calm that has come with figuring out who I am,³ with each person I’ve told and was met with immediate joy and acceptance (the high fives, hugs, big smiles, heart emojis etc. have all warmed my heart), and how my relationship with my body has changed as I’ve done things that make me feel more and more at home in it (e.g., haircuts, muscles, clothing). 

The top surgery scars⁴ in each piece serve as places of both conflict (outer and inner) and also creation, and the use of obsidian (hard, aggressive, static) and wood shavings (natural, flexible, evolving) helps underline this point. I did bring the obsidian with me because I knew I needed something harsh and violent, but I left the obsidian’s counterpart to chance. Imagining the piece before I left Canada, I thought maybe I’d go grab some shells from the beach, but the artist next to me (Armando Reyna, Mexico) was shaving down some wood to use in his piece and on impulse I grabbed the shavings off the floor. I love that they are softer and more ‘alive’ than shells would have been, and also that they tie me to another artist.

My favourite serendipitous material, however, is the silkworm cocoons from Grana Carrer (Argentina). One day she walked by and said my piece reminded her of a metamorphosis. I agreed that the idea definitely fit with my narrative, and the next day she quietly passed me a handful of cocoons saying, “For your metamorphosis.” This is the magic of the symposium – these unexpected gifts, whether material, technical, creative, or philosophical, from other humans who each approach a shared passion from their own unique perspective.

The material that really piqued people’s curiosity was the layers of graffiti paint. For me, in the context of this piece, they represent freedom of expression, individuality, and the many layers that make each of us up and that we reveal or hide in varying combinations. These paint layers are paired with glass in the colours of the trans and non-binary flags (and there are two little ‘flags’ peeking out from two of the cocoons). And yes, I only represented two flags among many (e.g., genderqueer, gender fluid, agender, pangender, and the list goes on), because these are the two I identify with and I’m not in the habit of speaking for other people (see Footnote 4). 

People were also really curious about the asphalt (I assume because it’s such a humble / ‘ugly’ material), which is aggressively hemming in the graffiti paint in the lower half. I could have used any chunky material there, really, but I liked the asphalt because it made me think of those resilient plants that spring up from a crack in the pavement, despite their harsh surroundings. 

The other material of note is several small letterpress X’s (the gender marker on my driver’s license⁵), one of which is roughly where the belly button would be, representing the gut feeling that I have had several times along this journey letting me know I’m on the right path (e.g., realizing I was non-binary, coming to understand both my euphoria and dysphoria⁶). 

A final note on the title of the piece. As I was thinking about all the different terms I had heard for gender non-conforming (gender expansive, gender diverse, etc.), I remembered gender disruptive. Thinking about that term compared to the others, it felt to me like it was more active and unapologetic. And from there it was a short mental hop to the title. For me, it’s a bit of a reminder to myself and to the trans community to take up space and to be visible (if you want to and are able to do so safely) and to do so without apology. Because we deserve nothing less. 

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1. I say “journey”  because that’s what it has been and continues to be. I didn’t just wake up one day, realize I was non-binary, and that was that. To arrive at where I am now has taken years, and it hasn’t been a slow, steady evolution – it has been periods of stability, punctuated by aha! moments and rapid change. In a lot of ways, I continue to surprise myself, but in a good way. ↩︎
2. Most of what I tend to see online is young, transmasc folks on testosterone (so: facial and body hair and muscular, squarer bodies), with stories of crushing gender dysphoria. Well, I’m closer to 50 than 40, no plans to go on testosterone, I have curves, and my dysphoria is subtle (see Footnote 6). I know I’m not alone, but man, it’s been tough to find people who look like me. ↩︎
3. I was late to the party (read: past 40) with respect to figuring out my gender. But when it came, it came in a flash. I had always known I was somehow uncomfortable with the term “woman” but figured I was just immature or a tomboy or something. In lockdown, a friend posted a video of someone reading a children’s book about gender. It described the gender identities of a bunch of different kids and one was (paraphrasing): “So-and-so is neither a boy nor a girl – they just feel like themselves.” Immediately, I thought “OMG I AM SO-AND-SO” and was flooded with this sense of relief, like everything just clicked and there was this huge weight off my shoulders that I didn’t even realize had been there. So there you go – a 40+-year-old figured out they were non-binary from a children’s book. ↩︎
4.  I’m currently waiting to get top surgery. Why do you need to know this? You don’t, really, but I want you to know it because it’s important to me that in my mosaic work I don’t speak for other people and/or appropriate their stories. So there’s a reason I included top surgery scars and not bottom surgery scars (or scars from any other gender-affirming surgery), any sort of nod to HRT, etc., because those other experiences are not mine to talk about. My decision to get top surgery came in a sort of roundabout way. The catalyst: a non-gender-affirming hysterectomy that ended up feeling gender-affirming AF. And whereas once I had thought it was too late for me (see: Footnote 2 on being exposed predominantly to young trans folks), I suddenly realized it wasn’t. ↩︎
5. My license expired this year, so when I went to renew it, I changed my gender marker to an X (which felt way better than I anticipated). But my passport doesn’t have the X, and probably never will. Not because it’s not available in Canada, but because it would open me up to possible travel restrictions and potentially be a safety issue. ↩︎
6. My first experiences with dysphoria (a term I strongly dislike) were actually the opposite: euphoria (e.g., going to the barber and cutting my hair short, wearing a men’s button-up shirt, getting more muscular at the gym). I thought to myself: well the euphoria can’t exist without some degree of dysphoria, so I started to pay more attention. And it was there. But it was more subtle than the very binary depictions you usually see out there (which led to a lot of imposter syndrome and “Am I non-binary enough?” angst). In general, my dysphoria is more like the difference between fine and great, not the difference between terrible and great. Sometimes it’s like wearing a pair of pants that are a bit too tight – you can still do stuff, but you’re aware of the ill-fitting pants and are just slightly uncomfortable. Most times it’s like choosing between bananas (they’re fine, I’ll eat them, I don’t actively dislike them) or raspberries (YES PLEASE THE BEST FRUIT EVER). ↩︎