A slab of clay. Glazed or unglazed. Plain or decorated – endless possibilities in pattern and colour. Practical – easy to clean if glazed, able to absorb, store and provide warmth if unglazed. Made in all shapes and sizes, all over the world, for more than three thousand years. The technique used today very similar to that of ancient Egypt, where the oldest examples have been found. Tiles are located indoors, outdoors, on floors, on walls, on ceilings. They can be tiny, they can be large. They can be purely decorative, but they can also express the spiritual and are often elements of visual worship in our diverse holy spaces. Tiles are remarkable. Bits of mud elevated to objects of boundless beauty.
The first tile we ever bought was another accidental acquisition. It involved a visit to the Portobello Road market in London – entirely planned because of the song of the same name in the old movie, Bedknobs and Broomsticks (a song we continue to sing on occasion, as needed). I remember it being a fairly convoluted trip to get there from where we were staying, possibly because of a Tube strike on the day we went. Eventually we arrived and had a great time searching through the various shops and stalls. In a crowded (as they all are!) shop, on a dusty floor, we found a box of old tiles. London is a treasure trove for old tiles as the Victorians used them everywhere – in the Tube stations, on their front steps, around fireplaces, on walls and floors. As people have renovated homes from this era, many of these tiles have been carefully removed and one can find them for sale as little souvenirs of that time period. The one we found was made by the Minton company in 1889. I often wonder where it would have been originally – who chose it? Who lived with it, and probably others of similar design? There would have been a day when it was brand new and part of someone’s home, maybe loved, maybe just an ignored bit of ordinary décor. The year following this acquisition, Bryan found two more old tiles from England as my birthday gift – right here in Ottawa. I haven’t been able to determine who made them, but they also hang on our wall as a little reminder of what came out of that trip and also of the fragility of all of our tastes. When I hear people fret over decisions to be made about paint colours or bathroom fixtures, flooring and kitchen tiles I wonder where these things will be in a hundred years. In someone’s collection? Or long discarded?
There are places in this beautiful world that are known for their tiles. Incredible designs. Full of imagery and symbolism. One of these places is Istanbul. I have never been, but would love to go and see places like the Blue Mosque with its astounding tilework. My sister visited this city a number of years ago and thoughtfully brought me a few examples of the tiles that have become synonymous with this part of the world. They are, of course, replicas of a very old tradition of Iznik tiles. This craft originated in the pottery town of Iznik, during the Ottoman Empire, and are a spectacular example of the beauty found in art from the Islamic world. I am not an expert in any way, but do know that these designs are usually based on geometric, floral and what’s known as arabesque motifs. The way the designs fit together is fascinating and I wish I knew more about what each of the motifs represent. I did read that many of the patterns begin with a circle from which the rest emerges – the circle representing unity and diversity in nature. What a moving idea. What a way to celebrate the vastness of who we all are, who we can be, and how we can live together in balance and harmony. There is, once again, something the artists wished us to learn from their work. Wisdom in beauty.
There are tiles all over the world. They are a common item. Ordinary and extraordinary all at the same time. We have a travelogue of these small souvenirs scattered about our walls. They remind us of places we’ve been, or people who have dragged them home in suitcases. Let us travel a bit.
A number of years ago, Bryan’s youngest brother was married in Mexico. We were fortunate to attend the wedding, held on a beautiful beach in the small coastal town of San Pancho, about an hour north of Puerto Vallarta. As we toured around the region, we saw all kinds of examples of the wonderful tiles that are traditionally used in Mexican architecture – they are everywhere, and it is obvious that the craft of making them is common and well developed. These tiles are made of clay and decorated with highly detailed patterns. It was not difficult to find a few to purchase and I’ve often wished I had bought a whole wall’s worth to install in our kitchen. Something to consider for future collecting adventures!
Crossing a continent and an ocean, a few tiles in our collection originate in Europe. Many years ago, my parents found themselves visiting Portugal. From what I heard, this was a lovely place and one that I would like to visit someday. They brought back a beautiful round tile, carefully transported home as a souvenir of this trip. Portugal is another place that has a long tradition of tile making, often used to decorate the exterior of their buildings in wonderful murals and patterns. Going back to at least the 13th century, the Portuguese word for these creations is Azulejo, which comes from an Arabic word meaning polished stone. What a good description. Marvellously polished surfaces, masterfully painted images.
If we continue eastward, we end up in Italy. We have three tiles from Italy – two we were able to purchase ourselves, and one brought by our dear friends, Catherine and Lou. Lou has family living in the south of Italy, and this little gem was brought to us after a visit. It is another reminder of thoughtful friends – and the many experiences we have been able to share with one another. Enjoying the adventures of others is also a gift - hearing their tales, seeing their joy.
Our own wandering through Italy provided the opportunity to see all sorts of ceramic objects. There was a spectacular giant bowl covered in the sunniest of lemons hanging from an exterior wall of a shop in Siena that I was sure would be perfect for our garden. Shipping was an issue, so I had to let go of that dream. Upon reflection, I did realize that it may not have had quite the same impact in the Ottawa winter as it did under the Tuscan sun, and probably wouldn’t have survived the cold, so it is best that we decided on a couple of tiles instead. The first was made in Florence and swirls with leaves and flowers and birdsong. It makes me happy. The second was found in a tiny shop in Siena. We lucked out on this one as the artisans who made it, owned the shop and were working on their craft in the back area. We watched in awe of the talent as this older gentleman carefully, but completely freehand, outlined elaborate designs onto ceramic bisque, and his wife filled these patterns with colour. The design we picked represented the neighbourhood we were in – this historic city is divided into 17 contrade – the people fiercely loyal having their babies baptized in special local baptismal fonts, and competing and celebrating in the famous Siena Palio horse race twice each year. What a place.
We move north to Germany for the next tile – found at the Schloss Augustusburg, one of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites we have been lucky enough to visit. We decided to stop at this fascinating place on route to the Köln Cathedral (a train ride that may or may not have been accompanied by some anxiety involving a complete lack of knowledge as to whether we were, in fact, heading in the correct direction). This palace and its adjoining hunting lodge, Falkenslust, was unbelievable. Unfortunately they did not allow photography – which we learned of in the usual way, Bryan being sternly reprimanded for using his camera. The tile we acquired here represents the sport of falconry that Prince Augustus enjoyed in the mid 1700s.
Finally, we arrive in Delft. Of course Delft blue and white pottery is well known and what self-respecting collector wouldn’t want a little piece of this famous and beautiful stuff? We made the trip to Delft from Amsterdam to visit the Royal Delft factory and museum. They have been creating delftware here since 1653. Hard to imagine. Almost four hundred years of countless hands learning and mastering this craft, shaping and painting and seeing their work transform in the fire and emerge so altered from its original state of earth and powder and liquid. Once again, it was fascinating to learn about and see the process. As is almost always the case, any good museum tour ends in the gift shop. This was a good one. And while I would have loved one of those enormous Delft tulip holders, once again reason prevailed and a small tile was purchased. I’m not sure why I picked this one, but it sort of brought to mind my Mennonite ancestors in the Netherlands, possibly farming and carrying their milk from the barn to their tables or the market. I have no knowledge of this being reality, but maybe it was. Or maybe it doesn’t matter and feeling a small connection to this part of the world is a good enough reason to welcome this humble milkmaid into our home.
The great tile around the world adventure continues and we find ourselves in Shanghai. I’m pretty sure there are a limited number of people that can say they were once able to take what amounted to little more than a day trip to Shanghai. But we are among them. On a whirlwind concert tour to China in 2016 with the Ottawa Bach Choir, we had that one concert in Shanghai. We travelled by high speed train from Beijing, arrived, did a bit of sightseeing, rehearsed, performed a concert, and then whizzed back – all in about 36 hours. In the middle of that busyness, we were able to have dinner with friends from Ottawa who were posted there at the Canadian Consulate – and discovered the best way to eat dumplings was with rice wine vinegar and sesame oil (try it, you won’t be disappointed). Our few available hours of sightseeing, allowed us to visit a market area with many winding and narrow streets full of tiny shops filled with all sorts of wares. It was captivating. Here we were able to acquire this small tile with its beautiful fish. Fish often represent luck in Chinese culture – prosperity and longevity. I would say that trip, as short and intense as it was, felt lucky. To get a tiny glimpse into a culture so different from our own was very interesting and I would love to go back someday and explore further. To experience what it is like to be absolutely unable to read or communicate was both unnerving and eye opening. What does it feel like to be suddenly illiterate in another’s land? Something multitudes of immigrants face every day. It was a good thing to feel this discomfort, albeit for us in a much more manageable context – a tiny bit of understanding of our luck and other’s challenges.
Almost around the globe, we arrive at an unusual tile in our collection. One made in Japan. It is a fantastic roof tile. It was brought to us by my brother-in-law Akio. Made of clay, these kawara tiles can be traced back to the 6th century and are often very decorative – sometimes involving symbolism and spirituality. Ours is a fish. Again, representing good fortune and sometimes perseverance and strength of purpose. This tile is special to me. It was received from someone special, it represents something special. I quite like fish and have a number of fish in amongst our treasures. I like their shapes, their fluidity, their texture, their colours. I am not surprised that they keep turning up in the expressions of artisans and artists all over the world.
No human being, however great, or powerful, was ever so free as a fish.
-John Ruskin
Few of our collections escape the influence of architecture, and tiles are no different. They are obviously used in buildings – on the exteriors and interiors alike. They both decorate and serve functions. The last tiles I wish to share came directly from a love of architecture and our ongoing project of seeing its masters’ works. Years ago, on our first trip to Chicago, we sought out the buildings of Louis Sullivan. Sullivan is considered the 'father of skyscrapers' – a pioneer in the use of steel as a construction material that allowed buildings to rise higher than ever before. His buildings incorporated decorative tiles, which those who have seen them, will appreciate. We were able to get this replica from the Chicago Architecture Center, and though it has had a few mishaps (those aren’t cracks and glue….they're patina!), it continues to be a prized possession. This admiration of Chicago architecture and its place in the history of design, also led to the discovery of the wonderful Mowati Tileworks. These tiles can be found in many museum shops, and our first one was a souvenir Bryan purchased for me in Chicago at the Architecture Center. We have since managed to add some more to our collection – because we love the designs. Many based on nature, as was common with the Chicago school (including Frank Lloyd Wright for whom Sullivan was a mentor), the designs often draw on the arts and crafts style. The company was started in 1992 with the intention of creating high quality products in an environment of positivity and constant improvement. I think this attitude shines through.
Tiles. Mere bits of clay. Beauty in their design, craft and stories. The humblest of beginnings, the broadest of origins, produced by skilled hands and used to fill our spaces with beauty. A little like us all.
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