“My interest lies in freeing the gesture from the traditional rectangular shaped support and exploring its potential. Rather than having a painting full of gestures, the gesture itself becomes the painting.
-Donald Martiny
After years of formal
study and artistic experimentation, Donald Martiny has created a new medium which
successfully challenges our understanding of what is classified as a painting.
Having removed the constraints of working on canvas, his free-form paintings
encompass gesture, color, and texture, while creating a dialogue within the
space in which they are exhibited. Each of Martiny’s works are auto-biographical
as they reflect both his physicality while creating the work, and are also
titled with the names of places that have special meaning to him throughout his
life.
Please read on for an inside look into the man behind these expressive paintings, as the artist himself offers insight into his process, influences, and inspiration.
Please read on for an inside look into the man behind these expressive paintings, as the artist himself offers insight into his process, influences, and inspiration.
How old were you when you decided to
be an artist?
Martiny: I decided early on
that art was what I wanted to do. I remember when I was five or six years old someone
gave me an art instruction kit. It had a
few pencils and a little book on how to draw and paint. I made copies of
the drawings in the book and went around the neighborhood selling them. A
kind neighbor bought a few of them for five cents. Then when I was in the 7th
grade I made a series of prints based on drawings I had made of sculptures by
Wilhelm Lehmbruck . I took them to a gallery in Saugatuck, a nearby town, and
they said, “bring us more of these”. So I had some positive reinforcement early
on.
How did your art career start?
Martiny: Frank Stella said in
his lecture at the Pratt Institute “there are two problems in painting, one is
to find out what a painting is, the other is to find out how to make a
painting”. He is absolutely right and I was determined to learn.
When I was 22, I moved to NYC, with the idea that I’d spend as much time
as I could looking at art and learning how to make art. The first thing I
did was I enrolled in classes at the Art Students League where I studied in the
academic tradition: anatomy, drawing and oil painting from the figure. In addition to that I made copies of old
master and modern works that I saw in the museums. One day I attempted to
copy a painting by William de Kooning. That was eye opening. It was far
more difficult to copy than I thought it would be. I was amazed to learn
that every gesture, every brush stroke had a job to do.
The gestures appeared to me to be as dynamic and kinetic as any dance performance. The application of the paint looked like it was done quickly and freely. He made it look effortless like a talented trapeze artist, but it is not easy. I made many de Kooning -style paintings and in that process, thought a lot about structure. I gradually became aware that I was struggling unsuccessfully to resolve the corners and edges of the canvas. I found myself filling in areas around the important gestures, which diminished their strength and integrity. Those limitations began to feel to me like restrictive compromises. At the same time, I chaffed at the idea of the rectangular shape because of its historical reference to a door or window. These issues and dynamics are what motivated me to find a new way to experiment with the possibility of shaping my support, or even jettisoning the support altogether. I knew I needed to find a way to completely free the painting from the ground.
The gestures appeared to me to be as dynamic and kinetic as any dance performance. The application of the paint looked like it was done quickly and freely. He made it look effortless like a talented trapeze artist, but it is not easy. I made many de Kooning -style paintings and in that process, thought a lot about structure. I gradually became aware that I was struggling unsuccessfully to resolve the corners and edges of the canvas. I found myself filling in areas around the important gestures, which diminished their strength and integrity. Those limitations began to feel to me like restrictive compromises. At the same time, I chaffed at the idea of the rectangular shape because of its historical reference to a door or window. These issues and dynamics are what motivated me to find a new way to experiment with the possibility of shaping my support, or even jettisoning the support altogether. I knew I needed to find a way to completely free the painting from the ground.
Who do you think was most influential on your work?
Martiny: When I was in my 20s
I worked at Doubleday's bookstore on Fifth Avenue and 57th Street in New York. I managed the art book department there. A lot
of artists used to come and talk with me there because they knew I would do
everything I could to get books they wanted even if they were out of print.
Among the many artists that visited was Ellsworth Kelly. He was surprisingly
generous with his time and patiently answered my questions. Although it was a
brief meeting, it was galvanizing because I already revered his work. To quote
Kelly, “The form of my work is the content.”
What he was doing was so different and fresh. His paintings involve the space around them. Unlike
traditional rectangular, framed paintings that work more like windows and point
in, Kelly’s work is collaborative with everything around it. They point out.
Martiny:
My
process has evolved quite a bit. When I first considered the idea of working
freely with forms in my paintings, I tried to use epoxy resins. I had
experience working with fiberglass and resins from when I built boats as a
summer job while I was in school near Lake Michigan.
But the
resins didn’t work. The paintings were prohibitively heavy and brittle and I
couldn’t control the color. Additionally, the materials were hazardous. One
time as I was mixing a large batch of resin, I put too much catalyst (MEK) into
the mixture and nearly set my studio on fire.
I’ve
spent several years talking with chemists all over the world and have made
myself a pest with virtually every art materials manufacturer in trying to
perfect my paint and process.
I can
finally say that I am happy with the materials I am using now. They are safe, water
based, light-weight, and I can do just about anything I want in terms of
painting.
In terms
of process, I draw and sketch all the time.
I am constantly experimenting with gestures and forms, relationships and
color. I usually make small paintings first. I think of them as finished
paintings but they also inform the larger works. My large paintings are a huge
investment in time, effort and materials.
Some of them consist of 10 to15 gallons of paint.
One part
of my studio is set up much like an arena. I paint on the floor walking around
the work. I often make brushes out of large floor mops or brooms. The act of
painting is much like a dance.
While
creating a large painting, I am stretched to the limits of my physicality. The act
of painting records my reach at a specific time and place. I suppose one could
say, in this way, that my paintings are self-portraits.
Can you describe your relationship
with color?
Martiny: Color is
both mystical and concrete. I enjoy the
duality between the spiritual search for a transcendental experience and my
intent to emphasize the object as a concrete reality rather than an illusion.
My
current work is essentially monochrome. I have been working that way because my
desire is to create paintings that offer a powerful, unified experience.
By
painting in monochrome I avoid creating optical illusions of depth or other illusionistic
devices.
Finally,
I am not interested in political or social meanings associated with color.
Martiny: My studio has two
walls that are pretty much all glass. In the morning and evening hours I can
often see deer, eagles and owls. There is an abundance of natural light. These
natural surroundings provide a stimulus for my work, however I do not imitate
nature. My paintings are not “of” anything. They are inspired by movement,
rhythm, time, changing light, color, and mood.
Do you associate memories with any of your works?
Martiny: Many
physical memories are imbedded within the process of creating each and every
painting. The creation of each work
offers a unique journey for me.
I would say I feel very intimate
with these paintings. I definitely look at the paintings and go “oh, I remember
that little drop right there”. I remember everything about the making of the
paintings. As many as I have made and I can still look at an early work and go
“oh, I remember that”. In fact the titles of my paintings up until now have
been streets that I have lived or places that I used to visit a lot as a kid.
All of the paintings, Drums Road, Chart Hill was the name of the pool that I
learned how to swim in. They’re all places that are very important to me
growing up. They are not meant to look like those places. Pigeon Lake is not a
picture of a lake or the shape of the lake. It’s just something that is meaningful
to me and it allows me to give them titles that are autobiographical.
To see his work go to our website or visit one of the Cavalier Galleries locations.
www.cavaliergalleries.com
GREENWICH 405 Greenwich Avenue•Greenwich, CT•06830• 203.869.3664
NEW YORK 15 East 71st Street, Suite 2a•New York, NY• 10021 • 212.570.4696
NANTUCKET 34 Main Street • Nantucket, MA•02554 • 508.325.4405
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