Page 27 - the NOISE October 2012

éclat de la femme
story & photos by sarah Gianelli
what Jerome is all about, the thing that makes it function and gives it character...”
At the same time they looked at each other and knew to re- move the first two letters of “heart” and call it the ‘ArtBeat. Mr. Hunt designed the logo still used in The Noise today.
I got my hands on a few of those first quirky art beat newslet- ters — local artists were interviewed; Mr. Bannister wrote about music; Ms. Bryant wrote a steamy column called “Eroticism and Neuroticism” under the penname Lola, and local legend Esther Burton regularly contributed her poetic rants and unusual car- toon drawings.
The newsletter has come and gone, but the torch they lit con- tinues to burn, and Ms. Bryant remains a vital thump in what makes Jerome tick.
“I realized not that long ago that I’ve been here for a long time,” she says. “My son asked me why I stay here, and it dawned on me that I feel comfortable here. I feel like I’m part of the strange structure that tourists come to see. It’s almost like a little circus in a funny way. We owe it to them to be unique because there are not a lot of places left in the US — let alone Arizona — that are unique. This is definitely a little town you come to and will see some characters.”
Outside her home, the tattered skull and crossbones and sunshade awning gives the impression of Ms. Bryant’s very own ghost ship keeping vigilant watch from its perch, ready to set sail across the empty skies on a moment’s notice or a building wind. Having been courageous — or innocent — enough to ignore the flag’s warning to stay away if you’re not brave enough to enter, I was rewarded with the metaphorical sunken treasure that pro- pels all myth, as well as our individual lives: a fragment of the light Ms. Bryant has found in the heart of darkness and, like a handful of black pearls, placed in my palm.
“Every day is a new day,” she says. “It’s before us to do what we want with it and see what happens next. I’m not ready to dive into the great abyss just yet, so as long as I’m here I might as well make the best of it. I don’t really know what happens after death — I don’t think any of us do. And I’m not in too big of a hurry to find out.”
Visit Ms. Bryant in her shop in the New State Motor Company Building or, if you’re too chicken, check out her line of jewelry from a safe distance at kathleenbryant.com.
| Sarah Gianelli is fashionably dark as it is.
sarahgianelli@hotmail.com
and the black reveal
Granted, my weariness when it comes to the subject of ghosts has escalated since working at the supposed epi- center of Jerome’s paranormal activity. Day in and day out, I watch the eager upturned faces of young and old alike crum- ple when I tell them regrettably, yet unapologetically, that no, I have not had any “experiences” and cannot, will not, serve up the intangible morsel they’re really hungry for. But my inabili- ty to muster up the energy to feed their gleeful fright has roots deeper than my current circumstances. I feel similarly about the alien-obsessed. Why, when there is so much to marvel at in the very real world around us, are people so fixated on the unseen elsewhere, often to the extent of missing the magic, the mystery and the spectacle parading before our very eyes?
Take the living, breathing specter of Kathleen Bryant. She haunts the streets of Jerome in broad daylight, invariably dressed in stylish, witchy black, sometimes accessorizing with a sinister black parasol or her little hairless Chinese pooch, Tui. A slash of pink across her lips, offset by jet black hair, powder white skin, and severely drawn brows, is the only splash of color you will find on her — well, that, and the drip of blood forming at the base of her ankh tattoo.
From the moment I realized that she didn’t just frequently wear black, but exclusively and without exception, I was in- trigued. Seeing her disappear into a blue, peaked attic space staked with a pirate flag, and get out of a black sedan with license plates BLKPRL8, only fueled my curiosity. I suppose my fascination was not entirely unlike that of the droves of ghost hunters prowling about, but in my case I could go straight to the source and actually get some answers.
Sitting in her jewelry shop in the New State Motor Com- pany building, Ms. Bryant begins to open up like a velvety black rose. Contrary to her forbidding aura, she has a softness and gentleness about her, and a light easy laugh, often direct- ed at herself. Her means of expression — both her mode of dress and the jewelry she makes — dates back to high school, where she had already earned the nickname Morticia.
Growing up in the Bay Area in the 1960s, Ms. Bryant was more English mod than hippie. She wasn’t into the big Lucite bobbles that were in fashion, and because she couldn’t find what she wanted on the market, she started making it herself.
The jewelry she creates today is more colorful, feminine and sparkly than you might expect, incorporating Swarovski crystals and pearls, small beads, and sea glass scavenged by friends on the Isle of Arran off the coast of Scotland. She strings her beads on hypoallergenic silk cords, stainless steel cable with nylon coating, and sterling silver, often knotted and
story & photos by sarah Gianelli
spaced apart to allow each element to shine.
“I’ve always felt that jewelry is meant to be more an accessory
to who you are, not dominate you,” she says. “People have said my work is delicate; it looks fragile — and I suppose I am all of those things. So these are an extension of me, the inner core of who I am. Some of my shrinks have told me that my hard, cold exterior protects the soft sensitive inside of me.”
Like every aspect of Ms. Bryant, her business name — Black Wing Jewels — holds personal significance. It references the raven; plen- tiful in these parts, and hardy survivors, which she considers herself to be.
So what is it about the black?
“I’ve had to give that a lot of thought,” she says. “Ultimately, it reso- nates with my metaphysical outlook. I think it came down to me doing a whole lot of inner work and realizing the main thing I seem to carry around emotionally is a sense of mourning for the loss of innocence of mankind, that moment in childhood when the fan- tasy bond is broken. Then we try to conform, wear the pastels that mommy wants us to wear, and do all those things that are socially acceptable that we think are going to win us parental love again. But it’s futile. You can never go back to that innocence.”
Occasionally in her life, Ms. Bryant has revisited the world of color, but it usually had more to do with fitting in or appeasing others.
“Each time I wound up in some new relationship, they’d try to change me, and say ‘hey put this little red blouse on, this will look great on you.’ And I’d try it and all that stuff just wound up going to girlfriends, because it just didn’t feel like me.”
Despite her identification with the dark side, Ms. Bryant’s outlook is more optimistic than fatalistic.
“The light shines from inside the darkness,” she says. “Black con- sumes all color and light but if you seek deeply enough you can find it.”
There is yet another bright side, and that is what Ms. Bryant has contributed to the community of Jerome since settling here in the mid-90s. During the course of this interview it came to light Ms. Bryant and her late partner, musician Michael Bannister, came up with the originating concept of the ‘Art Beat I currently enjoy the honor to write.
Mr. Bannister felt there wasn’t enough recognition of Jerome artists and their perspectives on music and art. Lying in bed one morning, back in 2005, they were brainstorming names for the newsletter that they would eventually put out with fellow Jeromie, Randall Hunt. Mr. Bannister, an accomplished drummer, liked the notion of the beat, and Ms. Bryant said “well, it’s like the heartbeat of Jerome. That’s what you’re trying to present here, the heart of
thenoise.us • the NOISE arts & news magazine • OCTOBER 2012 • 27