Candice Eisenfeld Fine Art

PAINTER HAS ART WORLD BUZZING
WORD OF MOUTH IS THE ADVERTISING
THAT MONEY CAN'T BUY

Scottsdale - Candice Eisenfeld had only one painting hanging in a show at Scottsdale's Vanier Galleries. Up and down Main Street, other gallery owners talked about it. They found excuses to drop in at their competitors and study it. You think that happens a lot?

In their defense, Red Fields wasn't to be ignored. Bands of scarlet vegetation slashed across a brooding landscape. In the distance, a storm raged.

Some saw it as a metaphor for a raped and bleeding Nature. Others heard echoes of the Holocaust.

To Vanier's art consultant, Robert Rollason, it was all of those, and many things besides.

"What you first see in Candice's work is only the beginning of what's there," he said. "Anyone who's seriously interested in contemporary art should keep an eye on her."

The artist greets visitors to her Tempe studio with the offer of herbal tea and a smile that is as brilliant as her attire is somber.

She is 27, but her paintings, which fill every nook and cranny of the tiny home, seem ancient. In most of them, pathways lead through dark, foggy landscapes to a distant point of light.

What does it mean? She's willing to talk, but Eisenfeld hasn't acquired the knack for grandstanding; she'd rather let the work explain itself.

Her refrigerator helps. It's covered with words, each a separate magnet. As whimsy takes her, she forms them into phrases: "God is a thousand voices," "Exalt in the warm sun," "Don't rub the lamp if you don't want the genie to come out."

And then, there's that cup in the cupboard . . .

QUESTION: There is a Queen Amidala cup in your cupboard. Does Star Wars have cosmic significance in terms of your art?
ANSWER: No, I have roommates. They bring whatever cups they have into the house, and we share.

Q: And if you break down Star Wars?
A: Well, it's entertaining.

Q: Why, then, does Ego in your painting Criticism: Self Portrait with Ego look so much like Princess Leia? Especially the hairstyle.
A: You like the buns, huh? They're like horns, appendages that grow naturally from the body. Remember Samson: His strength was in his hair. I have wisdom in mine, and beauty, passion, creativity -- it's hair as muse.

Q: Your mother was an artist who didn't pursue a professional career.
A: We lived in Arlington, Texas. Arlington in the 1970s didn't do much for the creative spirit. On the other hand, I grew up knowing I didn't have a choice. Look, this has to work out. I couldn't be happy doing anything else.

Q: Have you ever doubted?
A: Of course. When I first started, I felt threatened by the financial burdens.

Q: You're 27, but you look 10 years younger. Have you ever run into collectors who pass because of your youth?
A: What can I say? I'm classically trained. I know how to paint a painting. I only hope people will look at the work and not me.

Q: You studied art and Jewish history in Jerusalem. How does being a Jew impact your work?
A: If it affects the art, it is more subconscious than deliberate. The work isn't about a specific religion, it is about life and spirit in general. But every painting is encoded: They are the stories of my life - and some people find specific Jewish references. The Arizona Republic, in reviewing Red Fields, said that it had the same impact as the little girl in the red coat in Schindler's List. I wasn't making a statement about the Holocaust when I created the piece.

Q: A gallery owner said that every time he looked at one of your paintings, he heard music. What kind of music should it be?
A: Definitely the Latin Playboys. I never get tired of listening to that CD when I paint. It could be jazz, though. I listen to a lot of jazz. Bjork is good, too.

Q: Where do you stand in the fuss over the Sensation! exhibition at the Brooklyn Art Museum? The one with the Madonna with elephant dung?
A: Unlike a lot of artists, I don't support every piece of art that comes out, especially art that has a harmful, negative effect on society. Artists have a right to speak out, and to do art that's meaningful to them, but I think you have to ask yourself, "Is this hurting anybody?" Figuring out where you cross that line - that's the difficult part, isn't it?

Q: Want do you want people to see in your art?
A: I hope they see a searching, a quest. There are mysteries involved and things to overcome, but, in the distance, there's a light. There's hope.

BY KYLE LAWSON,
The Arizona Republic
Jan 07 2000

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