David Elhart Profile

Paula Dallacqua

Narrative Journalism

Profile

Don’t Judge An Artist By His Paintings

Intended Publication: The Index

David Elhart’s studio is a mess that is confined to his basement, which is not impervious to the distractions of the rest of the house, such as the barking of his dogs, Frank and Jesse. His work table is the size of a school desk and is cluttered with pens and stencils. Paintings are scattered in every direction, making the small space palpitate with color. Tools of logic, such as rulers, seem out of place in a room that looks like it regularly struggles to reign in David’s creativity. He apologizes for the mess and calls any person who ventures into his studio courageous. 

He admits his studio is particularly disorganized because he is in the process of getting thirty pieces ready for an upcoming show in Three Rivers. He’s not excited about the show, however, because he dislikes the people who generally attend art shows, “Quite a few of them are there for the wine. The more they drink, the more they think they know about art.” He grimaces at the thought of the alcoholic stink of their breath, but reasons that it is nice to sell pieces because, “It helps me pay for my habit.”

His habit. David does not see art as his job because he has never used it to support himself. Yet, art cannot simply be David’s habit. Art is the bridge from his logical mind to his innovative soul. He says, “I enjoy doing what I’m doing so much because I’m discovering.” One can be thankful for the gift of David’s discovering. It is rare that personal discovery leads to such remarkable creations, such as his painting “Sleeping Wave”.

“Sleeping Wave” exemplifies David’s flamboyant style. A bright yellow sun is set against a sky blue background, while two shapes that appear to be icebergs imperfectly mirror one another. A small ship with 3 tiered sails hides to the right of the far iceberg, and puffs of clouds are depicted as bars of white. Even though the viewer immediately recognizes the typical scene, the jolting geometry calls for a longer look. The viewer then notices the sun melting down the canvas by means of various reflections, the asymmetrical relation between shapes, and the perfectly straight lines within the icebergs that are angled out like sun rays.

Indeed, David’s work is an intriguing balance of technical art and the fine arts—he attributes the mix to his past work, which involved him being very precise. He thinks his technicality adds to the story telling capability of his artwork. David’s favorite types of stories to tell are about things that reflect memory. With a sense of awe in his voice, he describes staring at the deserted paper mill in Vicksburg and wanting to ask it, “Please, tell me what went on here...even though the building can’t talk. The older [the building] the better.”

Or on a trip to Ellis Island, when he became wrapped up in the emotional experiences preserved in the location. He speaks quickly as he thinks about the memories it holds, seeing them as still vital because they are “trapped in the walls of the building”. His face lights up during his recollection, much like the face of a little kid who has just discovered a secret shortcut.

In addition to playing with vivid colors and grand shapes, David manipulates texture. He particularly likes taking paint rollers and gauging pieces out of them in order to create spongy layers. He never uses an easel and opts to work on a flat surface so the paint remains stationary. A substantial factor in the creation of his art is his need to control. Elements, such as wayward clouds, which appear to be random, are actually painstakingly placed in order to communicate exactly what David wants to say.

Well, exactly what he wants to say, except for his political views. David explains that he keeps his political ideology completely out of or hidden within his art because people do not like messages in the paintings they hang in their livings rooms or see at coffee shops and restaurants. “I don’t set out to be political. I set out to create another place. Unless you read the titles, you might not even know.” For example, his painting, titled “Venus Barrier Sustained Biosphere”, is a commentary on current environmental practices. David explains it as “We think we can just go live in Venus after we destroy the Earth.” The actual painting, however, does not betray his true feelings. It simply looks like a barrage of colors and shapes. An attack of reds and oranges and browns.

The painting embodies David’s signature style—his rambunctious interpretation of pop art. “I’ve got a very busy mind,” he says, “I put it into my paintings.” By using acrylics, fixative, and varnish, he can separate colors and paint one over the other, thereby creating the shocks of pigment that characterize his art. He warns the oil has to go over the acrylic and not the other way around or else paint will chip everywhere. David also does a lot of work with oil based pens. The pens are pricey, but the pigmentation is well worth their cost.

While talking about his art, he repeats the theme that it’s not from a deep, philosophical message. He says the endpoint is to have fun. “I kind of paint blindly”—he explains that nothing about his art is pre-planned, and it’s more of a sum of his thoughts. He also speaks about his age, “People who don’t know me anticipate a younger person.” David, however, is a man in his late sixties, who works in light-wash jeans splattered with paint, Champion sweatshirts, baseball caps, and sandals with socks. His full beard and antiquated glasses complete the look, which is reminiscent of a grandfather.

Perhaps it is the cartoonish character of his paintings that lead people to believe the artist must be young. Or maybe David’s youthful exuberance seeps into his work. Yet David’s liveliness is equally matched by his matter-of-factness, which is also reflected in his work’s precise construction. His choice to not use his art as a vehicle for his radicalism reflects his rationality, “Here in the Midwest if you want to sell anything you got to be a bit more conservative.” But, David has never made his living off art. It was only when he retired four years ago that he allowed himself to be dedicated to his art. He had taken a few art classes at the University of Iowa and received training at the Layton School of Art in Milwaukee, but his art had to wait out of necessity. It was a practical decision that came down to having to pay the bills, “I needed to eat and being an artist wasn’t going to get it,” he explains. Instead of pursuing art, David worked in pharmacological research for forty years, specializing in animal welfare. He also taught and wrote for twenty years. Although he’s retired, he mentions possibly teaching at Kalamazoo Valley Community College in the future. His life goal, after all, “is to drive my wife crazy”.

But, David also admits, “I’d be lost without my wife.”  David has been married for 46 years to Rose, which is apparent in the way she can immediately correct him when his recollection of dates and times aren’t entirely accurate. Rose provides the balance David needs to function by remembering all the things that seem to escape his memory. When asked what her job description is, she says, “I keep him [David] in line.” Rose fills in the gaps in David’s narrative, correcting him when he forgets or adds a year to his life’s timeline.

Rose provides a necessary structure to David—in fact, her lack of presence may be the reason for his studio’s chaotic nature. Or maybe David’s creative energy had been building while he worked, and since his retirement, it cannot be contained. Either way, the explosion of paint and stencils and rulers and brushes found in David’s studio are all in good use—One can even be thankful for the mess. It is rare that disorder leads to such remarkable creations.