Elspeth Schulze, currently completing a master’s degree in ceramics at the University of Colorado Boulder, sees great potential in objects most people would simply disregard.
The sculptor, ceramicist and installation artist innovatively modifies found materials into works of art that provide both entrancing visuals and layered meanings. In her world, the ordinary transforms into the exotic. From piles of white mason sand and fragments of recycled concrete, that almost take on the shape of Egyptian pyramids, to sheets of raw plywood holding plump neon yellow sandbags, her work garners attention and reflection.
Exploring the themes of power and the environment, her captivating pieces have been showcased in Brooklyn galleries, Denver’s Union Hall and the University of Colorado Art Museum.
Schulze is one of 18 national artists to be selected in the next group of recipients for the Tulsa Artist Fellowship, an Oklahoma program that includes a $20,000 stipend alongside fully subsidized housing and studio space for up to two years. The fellowship, established in 2015 by the George Kaiser Family Foundation to bring diverse art makers to Tulsa, received more than 1,200 applicants this year. We caught up with Schulze to find out more about her intriguing work, the influence growing up in bayou-clad Louisiana has had on her aesthetic and how the world’s current state of unrest will impact her creations.
Daily Camera: You seem to explore a variety of mediums. Do you remember a time when you knew art would be your career path?
Elspeth Schulze: My mother is an artist, and my sisters and I grew up playing in her ceramic studio. I spent my twenties working a wide range of jobs, from baker to seamstress to gallery director, making work on the side the whole time. I finally realized that I could bring all of these skills together in one role. Being an artist requires me to move fluidly between such different tasks — from pouring plaster in the studio to planning exhibitions. This range keeps me curious and engaged and allows me to continually make new problems to solve.
DC: What would you say the essence of your work is? What do you want viewers to take away?
ES: With my work, I use familiar materials in unfamiliar ways. I sew blue tarps and pink fiberglass insulation into soft, sculptural shapes. These materials protect our homes from the elements but are often overlooked and unseen — hidden in the walls or tacked on the roof. I hope to draw viewers in and invite them to consider these common materials in uncommon ways.
DC: What do you find most rewarding about creating installations? I imagine it’s extremely satisfying to create an entire space and an overall mood as opposed to simply one piece.
ES: It is so satisfying to create an environment for a person to enter — work that they can walk around, into or through. Creating a space sets a certain tone and allows viewers to enter a mental or emotional place where they are open to new ideas and impressions.
DC: I know you were raised in Louisiana and I see some of your previous work incorporated sandbags. I automatically thought of hurricane season and protecting property from surging water. What was the significance of this material?
ES: I grew up in southern Louisiana, where water has as much hold as land. I spent time in the marsh, catching blue crabs and counting alligators, always within a mile of an oil rig. I’m interested in the tension between land, water and industry. Blue tarps and sandbags are common sights in hurricane-threatened areas and serve as strange harbingers of climate change. The use of petroleum leads to extreme weather patterns, while the byproducts of petroleum protect and patch our threatened spaces. We ward off rising water with petroleum-based sandbags and cover hurricane-damaged roofs with petroleum-based tarps. In my work, sewn tarps and sandbags become synthetic skins to hold earth, and together, they become modules for building.
DC: Do you see the pandemic and the current conversation about race having an influence on your work? What are you currently inspired by?
ES: Both the pandemic and the protests following the murder of George Floyd lay bare deep, systemic problems that require change on every level. I mentioned that part of my work is about the power and threat of water. It considers the oil industry, rising tides and the shifting Mississippi River. At its core, this work is really about power structures and resistance to change. It has given me hope to see so many voices raised over the past weeks, demanding actions that are long overdue. This time will influence all aspects of my life, in my home, studio and community.
DC: What are you most looking forward to about the Tulsa Artist Fellowship?
ES: It is not an easy path to be an artist. I am so grateful for the financial support, time and space to focus on my work. Musicians, writers and visual artists translate our time and push society forward. Support for the arts is more important now than ever. I am eager to make good use of the next two years.
