Danbury News Times, Sunday Edition, Family Section
The right to bear art
Bethel artist finds inspiration in cement, plants, hair
By Danielle Stone CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Article Last Updated: 03/02/2008 05:07:27 AM EST
BETHEL -- Baskets of bones, bags of burrs, and silky strands of human hair. If you add the eyes of a newt, it almost sounds like a collection of ingredients for a witch's brew. But newt eyes aren't called for, and there's nothing spooky involved. Bones, burrs and hair are just some of the materials Elizabeth White likes to use in her artwork.
"I've been involved in art my whole life, since I was a child," says White, sitting at her dining room table in the sunbathed kitchen of her home. A resident of Bethel, she lives in a hundred-year-old gray farmhouse.
White takes a sip of tea and gazes out the picture window at her backyard, where a large expanse of yellowed winter grass is bordered by clusters of phragmites -- tall wheat-like stalks that sway gently in the breeze.
"My time is divided between our video production company -- our family business -- and my artwork. I have lots of interest in gardening and I'm a feng shui practitioner," adds White, dressed in a teal cardigan and navy pants.
Every room in her house is proof of this statement: Whether it's the strategically placed stars on the blue ceiling in the reading room, or the hand-painted Celtic knot above the kitchen doorway, each item has been placed with purpose.
Her kitchen is also home to the family hat collection. An antique mirror with wooden hooks around its perimeter boasts an assortment of hats ranging from a black top hat to a sequined feathered number.
"We change them with the seasons," says the artist, noting a storage bin overflowing with hats, at the base of the mirror.
Originally from Rhode Island, White spent many years dabbling with paints. That changed however, when she and her husband, Bob Becker (video production manager of Bob Becker Communications), were looking for houses in Connecticut ten years ago.
The cement foundations were intriguing to White because the material could lend itself to different shapes. After enrolling in a course at the Brookfield Craft Center, she began to explore the possibilities of sculpting with cement. Today it's her favorite medium.
Using a large yellow contraption that mixes cement by hand, White casts leaves, fungi, stumps, and tree bark. These cement pieces accent her yard and the small potted garden outside her kitchen door, quietly mimicking nature. Her more recent projects, however, speak volumes about the cultures of the world in which we live and our attitude toward the natural.
On a table in her cluttered workspace is a cement basket filled with bones. The animal bones, collected over a period of time, were all found by White on her rural property. "These bones kept speaking to me, picked clean in the woods," she says, motioning in the direction of her sculpture. "So I cast this laundry basket (out of cement) and filled it with the bones. It's emphasizing nature's way."
White describes her style as medium-driven, meaning her materials -- nature, in most cases -- are what inspire her ideas for projects. For example, prickly burrs growing on the edge of "highways and byways" stirred her imagination. Wearing a white jumpsuit and gloves to avoid being pricked, the artist collected bags full of burrs. She then used them to create a personal statement about our country at war.
Deciding to share that artwork with a visitor, White approaches a shrouded pillar in the corner of her workspace. She removes the cloth with a flourish -- like a magician demonstrating the grand illusion. Positioned like a child's much-loved friend, a teddy bear sits on a pedestal. From a distance, it looks soft and fuzzy. Up close though, the bear is a menacing mass of barbed wire and burrs. A tag reads "To the children of Iraq. From Uncle Sam."
"The teddy bear," explains White, "is a very American symbol. It's named after Teddy Roosevelt; it's cute. But, in terms of war, it's a very different situation."
Cindy Nejame, White's neighbor and friend, said when she first saw the bear she "wanted to hug and squeeze it, I mean it's a teddy bear. But then, I obviously felt the exact opposite when I saw the bear up close. I think the medium is profound. It makes Elizabeth's statement about war ring that much louder." White has another piece that complements the bear -- a grenade covered in burrs. Neither the teddy bear nor the grenade are scheduled to be in any upcoming shows, but according to White, it's time they were unveiled to the public.
"I think they need to be shown," said White, "because of the reactions from the people who have seen them."
According to the artist, one visitor saw the teddy bear, covered her face with her hands and ran out of the room. While some negative reaction is expected, White ultimately wants her artwork to show a fresh perspective on an everyday object or situation. One day, while shopping in a beauty supply store, White came across sections of human hair for sale. She bought some to use in her artwork, but the origin of the hair continued to haunt her.
"Where is it coming from?" White asks aloud, expressing her initial reaction.
She started researching and discovered the hair comes from three major sources.
"One, is hair scavenged from brushes. The second, is the hair from the floor of barber shops, and the third," she pauses, her voice lowering into a whisper, "is 'temple hair' from India." She tucks a stray piece of her own shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear as she explains the sacrifice of hair made to the gods by entire families in India.
"The symbolism of hair is astounding. It's almost like the stars -- it's all different, but we all have it. Hair can determine how we see each other, old or young, beautiful or ugly," White says smiling, her voice filled wonder. The walls of the staircase leading to her home office are covered with framed designs White has created using black hair on a white background -- "like human barcodes," she says.
One, with a green background, is titled "Foliation," the hairs resembling blades of grass shooting out of the earth.
Despite the eccentric, funky style of her artwork, White is surprisingly soft-spoken and unassuming. Her quiet, graceful presence seems to flow in harmony with her surroundings, much like the positive energy of her feng-shui-inspired home.
"Not only is Elizabeth an amazing artist, she's an art advocate. She takes risks that fuel her creative fire," said Nejame, of her friend. "She's kind, loving; she always has ideas brewing. But if I was going to describe Elizabeth in one word it would be 'magical.' Elizabeth White is magical."
The right to bear art
Bethel artist finds inspiration in cement, plants, hair
By Danielle Stone CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Article Last Updated: 03/02/2008 05:07:27 AM EST
BETHEL -- Baskets of bones, bags of burrs, and silky strands of human hair. If you add the eyes of a newt, it almost sounds like a collection of ingredients for a witch's brew. But newt eyes aren't called for, and there's nothing spooky involved. Bones, burrs and hair are just some of the materials Elizabeth White likes to use in her artwork.
"I've been involved in art my whole life, since I was a child," says White, sitting at her dining room table in the sunbathed kitchen of her home. A resident of Bethel, she lives in a hundred-year-old gray farmhouse.
White takes a sip of tea and gazes out the picture window at her backyard, where a large expanse of yellowed winter grass is bordered by clusters of phragmites -- tall wheat-like stalks that sway gently in the breeze.
"My time is divided between our video production company -- our family business -- and my artwork. I have lots of interest in gardening and I'm a feng shui practitioner," adds White, dressed in a teal cardigan and navy pants.
Every room in her house is proof of this statement: Whether it's the strategically placed stars on the blue ceiling in the reading room, or the hand-painted Celtic knot above the kitchen doorway, each item has been placed with purpose.
Her kitchen is also home to the family hat collection. An antique mirror with wooden hooks around its perimeter boasts an assortment of hats ranging from a black top hat to a sequined feathered number.
"We change them with the seasons," says the artist, noting a storage bin overflowing with hats, at the base of the mirror.
Originally from Rhode Island, White spent many years dabbling with paints. That changed however, when she and her husband, Bob Becker (video production manager of Bob Becker Communications), were looking for houses in Connecticut ten years ago.
The cement foundations were intriguing to White because the material could lend itself to different shapes. After enrolling in a course at the Brookfield Craft Center, she began to explore the possibilities of sculpting with cement. Today it's her favorite medium.
Using a large yellow contraption that mixes cement by hand, White casts leaves, fungi, stumps, and tree bark. These cement pieces accent her yard and the small potted garden outside her kitchen door, quietly mimicking nature. Her more recent projects, however, speak volumes about the cultures of the world in which we live and our attitude toward the natural.
On a table in her cluttered workspace is a cement basket filled with bones. The animal bones, collected over a period of time, were all found by White on her rural property. "These bones kept speaking to me, picked clean in the woods," she says, motioning in the direction of her sculpture. "So I cast this laundry basket (out of cement) and filled it with the bones. It's emphasizing nature's way."
White describes her style as medium-driven, meaning her materials -- nature, in most cases -- are what inspire her ideas for projects. For example, prickly burrs growing on the edge of "highways and byways" stirred her imagination. Wearing a white jumpsuit and gloves to avoid being pricked, the artist collected bags full of burrs. She then used them to create a personal statement about our country at war.
Deciding to share that artwork with a visitor, White approaches a shrouded pillar in the corner of her workspace. She removes the cloth with a flourish -- like a magician demonstrating the grand illusion. Positioned like a child's much-loved friend, a teddy bear sits on a pedestal. From a distance, it looks soft and fuzzy. Up close though, the bear is a menacing mass of barbed wire and burrs. A tag reads "To the children of Iraq. From Uncle Sam."
"The teddy bear," explains White, "is a very American symbol. It's named after Teddy Roosevelt; it's cute. But, in terms of war, it's a very different situation."
Cindy Nejame, White's neighbor and friend, said when she first saw the bear she "wanted to hug and squeeze it, I mean it's a teddy bear. But then, I obviously felt the exact opposite when I saw the bear up close. I think the medium is profound. It makes Elizabeth's statement about war ring that much louder." White has another piece that complements the bear -- a grenade covered in burrs. Neither the teddy bear nor the grenade are scheduled to be in any upcoming shows, but according to White, it's time they were unveiled to the public.
"I think they need to be shown," said White, "because of the reactions from the people who have seen them."
According to the artist, one visitor saw the teddy bear, covered her face with her hands and ran out of the room. While some negative reaction is expected, White ultimately wants her artwork to show a fresh perspective on an everyday object or situation. One day, while shopping in a beauty supply store, White came across sections of human hair for sale. She bought some to use in her artwork, but the origin of the hair continued to haunt her.
"Where is it coming from?" White asks aloud, expressing her initial reaction.
She started researching and discovered the hair comes from three major sources.
"One, is hair scavenged from brushes. The second, is the hair from the floor of barber shops, and the third," she pauses, her voice lowering into a whisper, "is 'temple hair' from India." She tucks a stray piece of her own shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear as she explains the sacrifice of hair made to the gods by entire families in India.
"The symbolism of hair is astounding. It's almost like the stars -- it's all different, but we all have it. Hair can determine how we see each other, old or young, beautiful or ugly," White says smiling, her voice filled wonder. The walls of the staircase leading to her home office are covered with framed designs White has created using black hair on a white background -- "like human barcodes," she says.
One, with a green background, is titled "Foliation," the hairs resembling blades of grass shooting out of the earth.
Despite the eccentric, funky style of her artwork, White is surprisingly soft-spoken and unassuming. Her quiet, graceful presence seems to flow in harmony with her surroundings, much like the positive energy of her feng-shui-inspired home.
"Not only is Elizabeth an amazing artist, she's an art advocate. She takes risks that fuel her creative fire," said Nejame, of her friend. "She's kind, loving; she always has ideas brewing. But if I was going to describe Elizabeth in one word it would be 'magical.' Elizabeth White is magical."
