Beneath the Surface: Elizabeth Benson’s Material Dialogues
In Elizabeth Benson’s practice, material is not simply a medium, but a point of departure. Based in North Wales, her work unfolds through an attentive exploration of how substances behave in relation to one another, where natural dyes, tannins and iron meet cloth, and where tension, gravity and handling begin to shape form.
Working with silk organza, linen scrim, muslin, calico, wood, horsehair and fibre, she creates pieces that move fluidly between wall-based works and small-scale sculpture. Cloth becomes a recording surface, capturing traces of pressure, movement and contact. Rather than imposing structure, Elizabeth allows form to emerge through process, each work developing through a sequence of material events that remain visible within the final piece.
There is a quiet precision to her approach, balanced by an openness to unpredictability, as materials respond in ways that cannot be fully controlled. This interplay between intention and reaction gives the work a sense of immediacy, as though each piece holds a record of its own making.
Rooted in landscape and material origin, her palette is drawn from gathered sources, embedding each work with a sense of place. What emerges is a body of work that speaks to transformation, where cloth, dye and structure come together to form an evolving material language.
In this interview, we explore the processes that underpin her practice, and the subtle, often unseen forces that shape her work.
Are you self‑taught, or did you undertake formal artistic training?
My practice is largely self-directed, shaped through long-term engagement with materials rather than formal academic training. I was introduced to natural dyeing early on, which fostered an interest in how colour, fibre and found materials respond to contact, pressure and environmental influence.
Since then, my learning has developed through sustained experimentation, field observation, and an ongoing dialogue with the landscapes and material origins that inform my work. This practice-based approach allows materials to guide their own possibilities, forming the foundation of my sculptural and textile work.
How would you define your visual language or conceptual approach?
My visual language emerges from the behaviour of materials in contact, how cloth, dye, fibre and found elements register pressure, saturation and environmental influence. I think of each work as a small geological event: a surface shaped through interaction, where colour develops from plant matter, tannins and iron, and form evolves through accumulated processes rather than imposed design.
Working between sculpture and textile, I construct layered structures that hold traces of movement, weight and handling. These forms create terrains that feel both bodily and elemental, carrying the quiet volatility of the landscapes that inform them. My approach is rooted in material origin and ecological colour, allowing the work to unfold through the logic of the materials themselves.
Can you describe your creative process from conception to completion?
My process begins with close observation of the landscape, weather patterns, eroded edges, mineral traces, and the way surfaces register pressure over time. These observations inform a series of small material studies, where I test how cloth, dye, fibre and found materials respond to saturation, compression, weight and contact.
From there, I move into a sequence of material events: dyeing, soaking, drying, compressing and rusting. Each stage leaves a trace, gradually building the surface and character of the work. Once the material reaches a point of clarity, I define the structure, determining how the piece will sit, lift or hold tension in space. Gravity plays its part in defining the final structure.
The final stage is mounting, where I refine the balance of tension, cavity and surface so the work holds both its internal landscape and the record of its making.
Does narrative, symbolism, or storytelling play a role within your work?
Narrative operates through material interaction rather than through linear storytelling or
symbolic motifs. Each work holds a record of its own making, how colour settles into fibre, how pressure or saturation leaves a trace, and how materials respond to contact over time.
These accumulated marks form a quiet narrative of process, place and transformation. Rather than illustrating a story, the work embodies the behaviours of the materials and landscapes it emerges from. Narrative arises through these interactions: ecological colour reflecting gathered sources, surfaces registering movement and weight, and forms shaped by the conditions that produced them.
Which artists have most influenced you historically or contemporarily and why?
I’m drawn to artists who work closely with material behaviour and natural processes. David Nash’s sensitivity to wood in its changing state has been particularly influential, alongside the ecological and landscape-led practices of Anya Gallaccio and Andy Goldsworthy.
Ross Belton’s work with fibre and gathered materials resonates with my interest in ecological palettes, while Caroline Ross has shaped how I think about colour and material origin. I’m also interested in Rebecca J Kaye, whose translation of environmental data into material form aligns with my understanding of landscape as a generative force.
I value practices such as Toria Cameron’s, where embodied making and close observation of place guide the work, alongside the material awareness of makers like David White.
Beyond individual artists, my practice is shaped most strongly by geological processes, weather systems and the gradual shifts of the natural world.
What personal, cultural, or environmental influences shape your practice?
Living in North Wales shapes the work at every level, the weather, the geology, and the constant presence of water and wind. The landscape operates not as a backdrop but as an active collaborator, informing how I think about pressure, colour and material behaviour.
My earlier experience in the West Midlands also informs the work through its industrial material history and its relationship to extraction, labour and the marks these processes leave on place.
Culturally, I’m influenced by craft lineages, ecological thinking and the ethics of working with locally sourced materials. These frameworks shape how I gather, process and handle materials. At a personal level, I’m drawn to slow, attentive processes that prioritise observation and allow materials to articulate their own behaviour.
Where is your studio based, and how does the space inform your creativity?
My dye studio is based in the garden in North Wales, set up for mordanting, dyeing and rusting. It is a functional space where materials can be soaked, stained and altered in response to weather and time.
Assembly and structural decisions take place in a quieter indoor workspace, where I can work at a scale that allows for close handling and refinement. Moving between these environments, the garden studio, the indoor space and the surrounding landscape, creates a rhythm within the work, with each space offering a different mode of attention.
Do you have any rituals or rhythms that anchor your studio practice?
My practice is structured around seasonal rhythms. It begins with what the land is offering, available plants, emerging colours, and the conditions created by weather, heat and light. The work follows these cycles through gathering, preparing fibres, mixing iron, and returning to the same locations to observe change over time.
Alongside this, I undertake monthly material studies, working within a defined set of conditions to deepen my understanding of specific processes. The practice continues year-round, requiring adaptation between periods of plant abundance and the more limited palette of late autumn through early spring.
What bodies of work or projects are you currently developing?
I am currently developing the Residual series, an ongoing body of work examining how cloth records pressure, saturation and the slow movement of gathered materials. Works such as Surface Tension and Slip explore thresholds where fibre, colour and force meet—where materials begin to buckle, pool, resist or yield.
The series emerges from my dye practice, where plant-derived colour, rust and mineral interactions establish the initial conditions of each piece. These surfaces are then folded, compressed, stitched or weighted into sculptural forms that echo geological behaviours and shifting environmental conditions.
As the seasons change, so too do the palette and material vocabulary, allowing the series to evolve through new studies, new pressures and new material responses.
Where can collectors encounter or acquire your work?
Collectors can acquire work directly through my website www.elizabethbensonart.com at selected exhibitions, or by enquiry for available pieces. I also share new works, process studies and release information via Instagram @elizaabenson.
