Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - Having been wowed by Barbara Grace Hill's mosaic works and having enjoyed the uniquely designed earrings that I've bought over the years from Carol Anne Anderson, my interest was piqued when I heard they were doing a variety of workshops together for people who are not necessarily visual artists. Mosaics, Fused Glass, Hand Made Books, Painting on Silk, Hand Painted Floor Cloths... Which one should I choose, can I really do this?

"Buenos Aires, por favor." I communicated to my taxi driver. No, not Buenos Aires, Argentina. Right across the river in the hills of Puerto Vallarta, begins my adventure into a new colonia. At the second light past the small tunnel coming out of Zona Romantica, the taxi turns right along a rugged cobbled road into the colonia then a left on Calle Laurel straight up another rugged hill, then the road veers to the left and transforms into Calle Del Palmar. "I think that's it. It must be that big new house on the left. Thank you and can you come back at 2:30? You won't forget? Okay. Muchas gracias." It was ten o'clock on a beautiful March day and I was about to take a mosaic workshop.

I hesitantly step down from the cab, approaching the front door that has a sign with an arrow 'Welcome to Oops...Perfect!! Workshop to the right'. As Mexican boys ride by on their bicycles, women hang out their laundry and the smell of Mexican cooking wafts through the air, I descend stone steps amid flowering vines arriving at the edge of a courtyard surrounded by lush plantings.

With open arms, Barbara Grace Hill appears wearing a paint-splattered smock over pants and a T-shirt. Her curling black hair frames her spontaneous smile and hearty voice. "Welcome! Would you like a cup of coffee?" Carol Anne Anderson sticks her head out and waves hello with a piece of fused glass in her hand.

I've been in the theater all my life; I haven't set foot in an art studio in my life, except to walk through a gallery. What have I got myself into? From the sunny courtyard I come inside the inviting spacious studio. Carol Anne is laying out materials. To my left is a machine that is later named a glass cutter. There are shelves of glass and shelves and more shelves of reds, yellows, blues, purples, greens, terracottas, blacks and many patterned tiles.

On the floor are stacks of paint cans, glues and grouts. Two long work tables anticipate our work. To my right are snacks of fruit, nuts, raisins and chocolates. With a cup of coffee in one hand and a chocolate in the other, there are introductions, explanations of what the entire workshop will encompass. Other participants are a tall blonde from Brooklyn, a young local restaurant entrepreneur, a handsome retired accountant from Boston, another woman from Canada and one from England.

Putting down my cup and swallowing my last bit of chocolate, I'm handed a wooden picture frame and a wooden rectangular tray. We will be finishing these two articles with mosaics. I decide to start with the frame. I'm going to create a picture frame for my first grandchild who will be born in a few months. I'm encouraged to pick a color palette. I choose oranges, yellows, reds and blues.

I begin the process of cutting the tile in small pieces. After succeeding in not cutting any fingers off, I begin to arrange and rearrange the colored pieces on the frame. I begin to relax and play with colors and shapes. Quiet descends on the studio except for the occasional voice of a rooster or a burro or Barbara or Carol Anne answering a question or providing us with a tool.

I'm given permission to take all the time I want. After all, we do have four sessions of four hours each to cut, arrange, glue, grout and paint. When did I last have uninterrupted time and no external distractions?

After entering the world of play, reflection, meeting and letting go of expectations, I feel that intuitive creative muscle awakening. Four pieces of orange here and here... and here ...and here, a yellow piece right here, a sprinkling of red winding in and out and then I add the blue pieces above and below the others. The process is taking over. I realize I am creating a work of art that would not exist but for my attention and intention. I am creating this by and for myself. This piece is all mine.

Taking a break I walk around and look at other work. A tray with words written and a wedding photo inserted under glass. A tray to be used as a sign for a new restaurant bar. A white and blue frame with red flowers. All totally different from one another. We've been working quietly but imbibing the communal artistic energy in the room.

"It's two o'clock already?" I hear myself utter. As I retraced my steps up to the iron gate and my awaiting taxi, I realized I was reentering the everyday world. I had left it all behind for four hours, what a relief. And I have the joyous opportunity of three more sessions. I can feel myself breathing deeply. I feel refreshed. I've taken a risk to do something I've never done before. Didn't I just read that in the paper, that learning something new is good for growing new brain cells? As I open the back door of the taxi, I'm looking forward to the rest of my day in PV with an air of renewed confidence.

We bump back down the rugged road and I'm noticing all the reds, yellows and oranges in the trees and flowers. And above me a radiant blue sky.

For more information on Oops...Perfect!! © Workshops and how to register, visit OopsPerfect.com.