Approaching Lisa Houser’s home is like following a trickle of water to its source. On the winding drive up, a glimpse of sparkling glass shines off the side of a planter, followed by an elaborately decorated pergola. On to the front porch, where a glittering mailbox and a stool propping up a pair of flailing mannequin legs offer a sneak preview of what lies behind the front door: an oasis of art pieces with glass shards meticulously placed to make even the most mundane objects (a flower pot, a butter dish) stand out.
Houser, a retired physical therapist, creates picassiette mosaics, or works of art made from, say, fragments of broken glass or ceramic pieces. And it’s worth noting that she does the breaking herself. “If I have free time in the early morning or late at night, I will definitely make art; I just can’t stop,” she says. “And let’s be honest, it’s so cathartic breaking stuff.”
She will create art out of anything and everything, but a walk through her living space and a look at her website make clear that her preferred canvas is a mannequin. “I feel very strongly that how people hold themselves and move through space really reflects who they are, what they’re going through, and so I really prefer to do mannequins,” Houser says.
Four of them hang against a living room wall, and a closer look offers not just a dazzling display, but also a glimpse into Houser’s personal life. One of them, smartly dressed with a black tie, represents a past relationship with a man. Another, periwinkle-colored with grapes and vines weaving their way through the body, symbolizes Houser’s close bond with the other women in her neighborhood.
“All my mannequins have stories, and they’re usually about me, because it’s all about me,” she says with a laugh. While she is half-joking, there’s also some truth to it. On several occasions, after explaining the story behind an art piece, she returned to the same declaration, her motivation behind making the art: “I felt better.”
Houser admits that at the end of the day, she creates art for herself, whether as an outlet for therapy or humor. Many of her pieces feature wordplay, like the guitar embossed with “don’t fret, don’t fret” and “pick me, pick me” in small letter tiles. It’s this combination of vibrant designs and snarky wordplay almost hidden within that gives Houser’s work an eccentric and identifiable look.
“I’ve always kinda done something funky and off-the-beaten path,” she says. “I just happened to find my niche breaking stuff.”