Mood Lighting for the Romantic in All of Us

The squawking of a parrot named Moshe echoes through the 1930s Beverly Hills house. Incense scents the air. And the light from candles burning in one of a multitude of ornate candelabra reflects off crystal prisms. These are no ordinary candelabra. Their creator, Laura David, calls them “candelaras,” a nod to herself as the artist.

In a small space off the kitchen, crystals, finials and chandelier arms are sorted into bins. The artist’s tools--paint and brushes, pliers, glue and a hammer--lie scattered about. Out of this workroom have come creations with names such as “Anastasia” and “Valentino”--David gives each of her candelaras a name. “Desdemona” is named for one of her twin daughters, who was named for the wife of Shakespeare’s Othello. And there is “Diana,” named for the late Princess of Wales.

Each work began life as a chandelier picked up at a swap meet, thrift shop, garage sale or antiques store. “I buy a chandelier and strip it down,” David explains, a process that includes removing the electrical wiring and harvesting spare parts.

It all started five years ago when David--who will never be accused of contributing to the energy crisis--looked about her house and decided she’d gone a little candle-crazy. Hundreds of candles. No light other than candlelight in the dining room.

“I wanted something that had a chandelier feel, but not electric,” she says. Shopping around, she decided what she found for sale “wasn’t worth what they were charging.” Inspiration struck when she spotted a castoff chandelier in her mother’s garage. That chandelier, gutted and recreated, morphed into “Florenzia,” her first creation, named for her mother.

A friend saw it and wanted one. Thus was born “Gabriella,” the second. To date, David has created 20 candelaras, including one work in progress, and sold 13 of them. “They’re all one of a kind,” each taking shape as she works. No drawings, just “create it, tear it apart, create it, tear it apart. . . .”

The creating takes place evenings and weekends, as David has a day job, as estimator for Martin’s House of Printing in Vernon. “We did Brad Pitt’s Christmas cards,” as well as announcements for two celebrity weddings, now both pffft--Roseanne and Ben Thomas and Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley.

“Actually, I’m a hairdresser,” explains David, whose auburn locks are frosted in fuchsia. Once, she coiffed Beverly Hills heads at Saks Fifth Avenue but opted for a 9-to-5 job after meeting her husband-to-be 12 years ago and wanting more time with him.

She sits on a pink velvet couch, facing a fireplace flanked by a pair of carved monkeys. Once the owner of real monkeys, David has a collection of monkey memorabilia that spills from one room into another. As for the couch, she acquired it in a swap for two candelaras, “Cornelius” and “Michalei,” named for stepdaughter Michal.

David thumbs through a stack of color photos of her creations, which sell in the $500-to-$800 range. As it isn’t really practical for her to schlep weighty candelaras around town, she shows these photos to retailers who may wish to buy the pieces. “I’m not a salesperson,” she laments. “I don’t really make much money on these,” considering the labor involved. It’s the shop owners, who double the price, who profit.

“This is Priscilla,” David says, showing another photo. “Priscilla,” together with “Lite of Dew,” so named because “the crystals have little cuts that look like teardrops,” were sold at Giorgio in Beverly Hills. “And this is ‘Anastasia.’ ‘Anastasia’ got shipped to India” by a client who bought it at Revival, a now-defunct Beverly Center shop. She has also recently placed pieces for sale at the Happy Angel on South Robertson in Los Angeles and Home Design in Studio City.

She holds up a picture of a candelara topped with a crown of crystals. “I thought this one would be either Diana or Grace. It was almost completed when Diana was killed,” so it became “Diana.”

And, yes, she has named one creation after herself. That would be “Lorelei” which, she acknowledges, looks more like an octopus than a mermaid “but has the aquatic thing going on.”

She has never paid more than $60 for a chandelier that will become a candelara. “I’ll go to antique stores and ask, ‘Do you have any broken-down chandeliers?’ I get some pretty good deals.” The catch: Many come sans crystals, which can cost up to $5 apiece.

She buys mostly old chandeliers--”I don’t really like modern stuff,” says David, whose mother once owned a small antiques shop. “I like ornate. If the arms are sleek, there’s [no place] that I can drill to hang crystals.” And with an ornate piece, “If there’s a mistake, it hides itself.”

David’s Israeli-born husband of two years, Hayim, whom she calls David, smiles and says, “I should put this sign on my car--’Stops at every garage sale.’ ” For his kitchen equipment business, he sometimes buys from defunct restaurants and kitchens. Once, he called Laura from a closed retirement home to alert her to 25 chandeliers up for grabs. She remembers, “We tore all those chandeliers down ourselves.”

Once she brings a chandelier home, she takes it apart and scrubs the pieces. “If it’s been in somebody’s house for 15 or 20 years, you have all this guck.” Later, she will paint the metal spine and arms bronze, gold or pewter.

“I love all of them,” says David, leaning heavily against “Desdemona,” which hangs from a David-designed arcing floor stand. “Desdemona” rocks only slightly, testimony to what the artist calls the “really good” balance of the stand, which is made to be earthquake-resistant.

Moving to another corner of the living room, she points out her favorite work, which is centered with a gilded cherub and named for her grandson. His name is actually Raul, but because he was born on Valentine’s Day--and Raul isn’t such a hot name for a candelara--she dubbed it “Valentino.”

For David, the joy is in “taking something discarded and creating something beautiful.” Every piece is a signed artwork that can be moved from room to room. As she strips and dismantles and drapes crystals on her creations, she has in mind the person who will buy it. “Someone who’s romantic, someone like myself.”