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THE D R AWI N G CENTER

Eddie Martinez Studio Wall


The Drawing Center October 13, 2017 – February 4, 2018 Drawing Room


Eddie Martinez Studio Wall

Organized by Claire Gilman


D R AW I N G PA P E R S 13 4

Essay by Claire Gilman Interview by Katherine Bernhardt


Curator’s Acknowledgments

Claire Gilman

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I was encouraged to do a studio visit with Eddie by our mutual friend Alex Adler approximately two years ago. I want to thank Alex for his foresight in making that connection and Eddie for his willingness to embark on a continuing dialogue about drawing and to see where that might lead. It has been a pleasure working with Eddie and I so appreciate his openness, humility, and enthusiasm every step of the way. This show would not have been possible without a few key individuals. I am incredibly grateful to Courtney Willis Blair, Bridget Finn, and Lucy Mitchell-Innes of Mitchell-Innes & Nash, New York, for their guidance and encouragement. Thanks are also due to Eric Zindorf and Trevor Tagge from Eddie’s studio; their support and diligence from conception to installation was critical to this exhibition. I would also like to thank the painter Katherine Bernhardt, whose thoughtful dialogue with Eddie, published in this catalogue, gives viewers insight into the strong ties between drawing and daily life in Eddie’s work. The Drawing Center’s hardworking staff likewise deserves recognition for its role in realizing this exhibition. Special thanks go to Brett Littman, Executive Director; Joanna Ahlberg, Managing Editor; Peter J. Ahlberg, AHL&CO; Noah Chasin, Executive Editor; DéLana Dameron-John, former Development Director; Dan Gillespie, Operations Manager; Molly Gross, Communications Director; Bruno Nouril, Development Director; and Olga Valle Tetkowski, Exhibition Manager. I would also like to thank curatorial intern Isabella Kapur and, especially, Assistant Curator Amber Harper for her unfailing work ethic and good humor. Finally, I am incredibly appreciative of the steadfast support of The Drawing Center’s Board of Trustees and the exhibition funders who have supported this show and its accompanying catalogue: Beth DeWoody, Jeannie and T Grant, Barbara Toll, Bruce and Robbi Toll, and Craig Nerenberg, without whom this exhibition would not have been possible. Special thanks are also due to Mitchell-Innes & Nash, New York, and Timothy Taylor Gallery, London.

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Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall

Claire Gilman

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When writing about Brooklyn-based artist Eddie Martinez, critics frequently attribute his bold palette and cartoon-like rotating cast of characters to his origins in graffiti culture. Perhaps influenced by the language of aliases and codes that is an inherent part of underground art, Martinez’s fans manifest an intense desire to decipher his compositions by proffering theories about the meaning behind his early clowns, skulls, and figures with wide staring eyes.1 It was with some surprise, then, that these fans received the artist’s transition away from figuration to a largely abstract idiom around 2013. Martinez explains the change this way: “I was so f*cking sick of looking at figures. I felt trapped and pinned down.”2 And again: “I changed from making figuration … because I didn’t feel connected to it. Because I was making an expected product.”3 Yet when asked recently about the tension that exists for him between abstraction and figuration, he replied that there really isn’t any: “My goal is to try not to think but to act and react and I could be in this state with either an abstract work or a figurative work,” he asserts. “It’s just that figuration at that time was becoming too much of a formula for me.”4 Taking him at his word, this essay, and the exhibition Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall, asks that we think about Martinez’s work not as a product or result to decode, but rather, as a process or approach to observe and inhabit. Understood in this sense, the artist’s subject matter becomes relatively immaterial in contrast to the paramount importance of the media and materials he employs; furthermore, what assumes centrality within his larger oeuvre is the practice of drawing.

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Martinez comments on this phenomenon in an interview from 2008: “People look at the eyes in my paintings and wonder why they’re that big. People ask if they’re on mushrooms or if they’re scared or if they’re my eyes. They aren’t any of those things. I don’t have to make specific choices or explain things. I don’t have to make things clear; it’s just what I want it to be.” Eddie Martinez, “15 for ‘09: Eddie Martinez,” interview by David Coggins, Interview Magazine, November 29, 2008, http://www. interviewmagazine.com/art/eddie-martinez. Courtney Willis Blair, “Studio Visit: Artist Eddie Martinez,” Forbes, March 3, 2016, https://www.forbes.com/sites/courtneywillisblair/2016/03/03/ studio-visit-eddie-martinez/. Martinez, “Eddie Martinez,” interview by Joseph Hart, October 26, 2014, Deep Color, produced by Joseph Hart, podcast, 55:42, http://www.deepcolorpodcast.com/ listen-1/2016/10/26/eddie-martinez. Martinez, conversation with the author, May 25, 2017.


Martinez says he always knew drawing would play an important role in his life because, from childhood, it was the only thing he could do well. As he moved around the coastal United States with his parents, drawing remained his constant even as he abandoned art school after only a year, realizing that the strictures of formal education were not for him. Notably, Martinez worked almost entirely in drawing before taking up the brush some ten years ago.5 It is not uncommon for painters to be prolific drawers; indeed, drawing is often the place where artists work out their ideas prior to taking the more drastic and unforgiving step of applying paint to canvas. For Martinez, however, drawing has never been a subsidiary or preliminary activity but an enterprise that fuels his entire creative output, providing the steady hum that grounds his work and life in general. Drawing, in Martinez’s case, is not confined to the studio. It pervades nearly every moment of his waking life as he carries pen and paper with him on the subway, to the doctor’s office, to restaurants, and to other work and leisure events. When I interviewed him for this text, Martinez drew the entire time using a stack of Post-its he found on my desk, sometimes scribbling abstract shapes, other times directly responding to postcards and printouts in my office. While this might have seemed off-putting to some, I knew what to expect, and enjoyed our conversation about his process interspersed with his reactions to the visual material I had assembled around me. “Drawing makes me a better conversationalist,” explained Martinez who, notably, is also an avid practitioner of transcendental meditation. “It opens things up for me and hones things in a way that I wouldn’t be able to access without it. Drawing is like a meditation.”6 In other words, drawing is a kind of life strategy for Martinez that allows him to remain present in (and to) the world around him. This give-and-take dynamic extends into the afterlife of the drawings, and specifically into the “drawing wall” that he maintains in his Brooklyn studio wherein sketches ranging in size, shape, and material—many of them created outside his workspace—are switched on and off the wall in continuous rotation. Ushered into the life of the studio, these 5 6

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Martinez, conversation with the author, May 25, 2017. Ibid.


small sketches inform Martinez’s large drawings, paintings, and sculptures, sometimes physically entering another work to become buried amid the paint, at other times remain sovereign and intact. Frequently, Martinez reworks the sketches so that when he returns the drawings to the wall they read as distinct compositions, bearing traces of the old even as they introduce new observations. In this way, the drawings provide a living catalogue of the artist’s creative process—one that is open, responsive, and always changing. This openness is not confined to Martinez’s method; it also manifests itself in the compositions that he creates via his preferred materials like marker, crayon, color pencil, and his beloved Sharpie.7 Indeed, if there is a consistency to Martinez’s choice of “subject,” I would argue that it is located within the conversational aspects of his forms and figures—what one might refer to as an aesthetic of encounter or approach—where divergent motifs gesture towards one another over distances and flat planes. Consider Untitled (2016) [PL. 11], in which a loosely-drawn, inky figure extends an appendage in the direction of a bright orange shape that lies slinky-like on the horizon; or Untitled (2016) [PL. 21] wherein a dense, bust-like form executed in opaque, black enamel paint confronts a similarly curvilinear albeit open pinwheel drawn in red marker. There is a kind of unexpected empathy implicit in these encounters that is nowhere so palpable as in Untitled (c. 2011–17) [PL. 30], a Sharpie drawing in which a faceless foreground figure reaches an outsized hand towards a snowman-like tower of wobbly circles. This is a poignant, humanistic vision of selfextension towards another. Executed with a simple black line on white paper, this image recalls the ink drawings that Philip Guston, one of Martinez’s acknowledged heroes, made with the poet Clark Coolidge in the early 1970s. In this collaboration, the notion of extension, of gesturing across boundaries, is paramount in the work titled Untitled (The Drawing) (1975) [FIG. 1] in which two fingers reach down from the sky to trace a horizon line. “A line in the silence of else, stopless. Surface, edgeless,” reads Coolidge’s text. When I saw this drawing recently 7

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On the centrality of the Sharpie to Martinez’s work, see interview with Katherine Bernhardt in this volume, 16.


FIG . 1

Philip Guston, Untitled (The Drawing), 1975, Ink on paper, 19 x 25 1/4 inches Š The Estate of Philip Guston, courtesy Hauser & Wirth, photograph by Genevieve Hanson


in Venice, I immediately thought of Martinez. A line that silently acknowledges another which it simultaneously cannot be: this is the condition that Martinez depicts whether in a busy image [PL. 00] in which figures stumble upon each other across a pale blue ground or, in the starker Untitled (2016) [PL. 28] which juxtaposes two reciprocal halves: one open, one closed; one dark, one light; one full, one empty. Gesture and encounter without absorption or resolution. Through this confrontation we can understand Martinez’s penchant for the picture within the picture, a motif that he describes as a “way of bringing together the outside and inside worlds,” or, by extension, of acknowledging multiple contexts and vantage points.8 Martinez similarly courts multiplicity by working and reworking specific arrangements in alternative colors and materials between drawings, from drawing to painting, and back again. Moreover, in an ongoing collective drawing session that he initiated with the artist Brian Belott, he has expanded this process to include other people. Of these “Draw Jams” Martinez has observed: “The part of it where it’s cool to draw on and over people’s drawings has been very inspirational … Something about the community aspect of it is sobering. Nothing is finished. The drawings are just a result of the collaborative process.”9 Martinez notes that his goal for the past couple of years has been “to make a large painting feel like a drawing.”10 “I don’t have to achieve anything in the drawings,” he explains, “and with some luck I will feel that way about the paintings at some point.”11 Recently, Martinez has begun to assist this process in concrete ways. For instance, he will often draw over images of paintings on his iPad as a means of injecting the kind of fluidity he experiences while drawing; in one body of work, he enlarged small drawings via screen-printing and transferred them to canvases. He notes that the drawing element is typically strong enough that he doesn’t have to add much paint even though it takes trust and discipline to forego the impasto technique for the lightness that drawing embodies. He observes: 8 9 10

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Martinez, email to the author, July 19, 2017. Martinez, interview with Bernhardt, 17–18. Martinez, “Barry McGee x Eddie Martinez,” interview with Barry McGee and Rachel Small, Interview Magazine, September 12, 2014, http://www.interviewmagazine.com/art/barry-mcgee-x-eddie-martinez#. Martinez, email to the author, November 1, 2016.


“Their [drawing and painting’s] relationship is based in a back and forth a lot like a human relationship; drawing is medicine for me.”12 Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall aims to highlight this human element by putting the alliance between his different media on view. Hung unframed atop and amid a sea of sketches (some of which the artist periodically substitutes out over the course of the exhibition), the larger drawings and paintings manifest a vulnerability and incompletion that, reinforcing the looser sketches’ own sensitivity to context, gets at the core of what, for Martinez, drawing is or can be. It is an openness that is difficult to sustain, as evidenced by the inclusion of a single framed drawing at the exhibition’s entrance. Speaking about his process, Martinez acknowledges the transformation that happens when a drawing leaves the studio. “Studio drawings … are just that. They’re more like excerpts from the studio; they’re more like artifacts from the floor … and I think that … when you frame them … they really become like fossils.”13 This crystallization is not necessarily bad; rather, it is the nature of things, once made, to assume definitive form.14 But if visualizing openness and non-achievement is ultimately untenable, it is still worth a try.

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Martinez, email to the author, November 1, 2016. Martinez “Eddie Martinez: Island I | Timothy Taylor Gallery | 13 Oct–8 Nov 2014,” October 21, 2014, published by Timothy Taylor Gallery, https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=QH2PafCWQKw, accessed July 25, 2017. Indeed, without elaborating, Martinez notes that he finds the change enacted by the framing process to be exciting. See also his interview with Bernhardt, 18–19.


Interview with Eddie Martinez by Katherine Bernhardt

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Katherine Bernhardt: What is it about drawing that you like that you can’t achieve through painting or sculpture? Eddie Martinez: It’s my own “brain island.” I can escape into drawing and, while I’m there, I learn how to handle life off the island. It’s instant gratification, which is rewarding, and you don’t get a hangover or an upset stomach. Is drawing a way to loosen up before making a painting? Not for me personally, but I could imagine that might be the case for you. Is it? No, drawing for me is a completely different task that requires different materials and a distinct mindset. Drawing is usually smaller scale so I make it on a table not the floor or wall. In drawings, I usually use ink and watercolors. What can you achieve through drawing that you cannot through painting? Drawing for me is a kind of necessity first and foremost. It’s a navigational tool and something you don’t need much in the way of supplies to do. Sharpie and paper gets it done. I’ve always drawn. I copied comics, logos, and other graphics when I was young. I failed miserably at copying The Simpsons when it came out. Also, drawing is a portable practice—speed without making a mess. There’s always more paper, until we don’t have trees, which could be soon. I feel like I only really started seeing your drawings out in the world a few years ago, is that accurate? It’s not true that I only started making drawings in the past couple years. I’ve been making drawings since I was little. I’ve always made drawings or works on paper. I meant that in your previous bodies of works, I never saw drawings as a major part, but I’m seeing them now. I’m not saying, “I don’t think that Katherine has ever made a drawing,” just that I see them as so present and relevant to your paintings these days.

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What are some of your favorite drawings? I was acutely obsessed with M.C. Escher when I was a kid. His drawings always blew my mind and are very magical stuff, but I think I was more impressed by the technical skill than the fantastic elements of the works. Anyone that mastered shading and crosshatching was amazing to me back then. Now, I would much prefer to own something like a Freddie Brice or a Ray Hamilton. I guess I went from liking more technically refined works to works by adults that look like they were made by children. More unselfconscious. One of my all-time favorite draftsmen is Derek Aylward; he taught me a lot about drawing. We have spent countless hours drawing together over the past two decades. What about you? What are some of your faves? Some of my favorite drawings include…well can it include any work on paper? Chris Ofili’s “afro head” portraits. I guess it could be any artist I like because they all make work on paper I think. Joe Bradley’s works on paper, and Matisse. I guess it depends on what you consider a drawing. Agnes Martin and José Luis Vargas’s works on paper… let me think… Alphachanneling’s work, Robert Longo’s wave and ocean drawings, Joyce Pensato’s cartoon drawings because of their energy. I think it’s more based on how artists I like handle the act of drawing as opposed to “a drawing.” What do you use to draw with? I prefer Sharpies. If I had a Shar-Pei I would name him Sharpie. I just love the dense black line; it comes out so smooth. When you first use one, it has a sharp point but eventually it gets rounded out and generally at that point the ink is lessened and it's more of a gray, which is good for shading. You can also intentionally make them more brush-like with sandpaper. I like the way drawings become ghosts of themselves once you white them out, but the black line still comes through. Do you ever use unusual materials like mustard or chocolate sauce? Haha, no, our friend Brian [Belott] has that covered!

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Since you mention Brian, I know that part of your show includes what you call “Draw Jams.” Can you tell me about how those got started? They’re super freestyle—mostly drawing, some jamming. People bring supplies, throw them on the table, and folks get to work. I grew up doing them in high school really, but it wasn’t anything formal, just my close friends and I sitting around drawing in black books. That particular practice definitely came out of graffiti history. Back when the NYC subway was covered in graffiti, they would meet up, exchange books, and draw in each other’s. So we just copied that idea in high school. Sometime around 2005, Brian invited me to what he called a draw jam and it was really similar to what I used to do in high school. The way these Draw Jams will be structured at The Drawing Center is similar to the way Brian and I used to do them. Are there any other precedents for the draw jam? I think maybe the Surrealists…? Dada, too. They had something called the Exquisite Corpse those guys would sit around doing. One guy would start a drawing then fold it over and they’d pass it around and everyone would add to it and then they’d open it at the end. That’s pretty much the spirit of it. Many of the New York ones, like what we will be doing at The Drawing Center, have been orchestrated by Brian Belott at people’s studios, galleries, etc. He provides the stuff and everyone shows up and gets to work. You never really know what is a “finished drawing” until someone says, “I can’t do anything more with this,” and then we just tack it up on the wall. How have the draw jams influenced you? The part of it where it’s cool to draw on and over people’s drawings has been very inspirational. I don’t take particular care with materials in my own work, but this practice just solidifies the impermanence of it all—especially crappy paper and Crayola markers. It’s all this action: a bunch of people sitting around and at the end of the night you have all these drawings with different peoples’ hands on it. It could be a well-known person or not; it doesn't matter. It takes away the preciousness of it (and the artspeak—it’s not “graphite,” it’s a

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fucking pencil). They’re just drawings—not works on paper, just drawings. Something about the community aspect of it is sobering. Nothing is finished. The drawings are just a result of the collaborative process. Do you tend to make small drawings or have you ever made huge ones? Mural-like? I believe the biggest was seven by five feet. Twenty-two by twentyeight inches is a standard size for me; I guess people would consider them large drawings. Some are thirty-eight by fifty inches. Obviously I’m not doing those on the subway. Do you keep a journal—like a drawing book with you at all times? Pretty much yes, but if not, I always at least have some scrap paper with me. Receipts work well in a bind. Muji makes these little notebooks that I always get from my mother-in-law as presents. When I travel, I always have proper sketchbooks; when I’m bopping around in the city I don’t. Press releases/gallery statements are really good to draw on too. Do you draw from life and still lifes and set up objects or is it all from your head? Both for sure. Not necessarily choreographed still lifes but definitely from life at times. Like I’m sitting on my couch and I’ll see a lamp and I’ll draw the lamp. It’s rare that I deliberately sit down to draw an object, but if I’m already drawing and an object catches my eye, I might draw it. Is it annoying that you have to frame a drawing to hang it? Well, of course you don’t have to but I don’t mind frames, generally speaking. I mean in my studio—and the basis of the show—is my drawing wall, where hundreds of drawings just get pinned up. I do generally frame drawings and I like them framed. The simplest explanation is that it’s a way of finalizing a work. A drawing is definitely “finished” once it’s framed, though over time my opinion of that has

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changed, too. The Pettibon show at the New Museum would have a very recent framed drawing next to a pinned-up drawing that was 30 years old.1 I thought it was fascinating to flip the script on the preciousness of the value of drawings—you’d think the older one was worth more. It was Pettibon opening up the question of what a frame does to a drawing. How did you hook up with The Drawing Center? My buddy Alex Adler thought that Claire Gilman would be into the drawing wall in my studio, and luckily she was. She and I started a dialogue and did a series of studio visits and now, here we are. The drawing wall struck her enough to want it to be an entire exhibition. Claire really understood that it could be something beyond just a work space; it’s her vision to put the larger drawings and paintings over the smaller works. I provided the embryo and she’s taken it to toddler. Some of the drawings are even switched out during the exhibition so that it stays true to how it functions in the studio. It’s a living organism that’s always developing. A snippet of the wall has been in a group exhibition but never to this extent. How many years have you been working on your drawing wall and what role does it play in your overall practice? It started in 2011, I believe. It’s constantly changing and evolving. The underlying heartbeat of everything I do is drawing, so the drawings feed the paintings and the sculptures. They exist in different ways but with the same end in mind. When I make them, they are helping me navigate regular, daily things. Once they get in the studio, they can help me make paintings. It's not that they get intentionally reworked in studio, but they tend to pick up paint and detritus if I'm painting and looking at them. When paint accidentally gets on them while I’m carrying them around, that sort of introduces them to the painting world.

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Raymond Pettibon: A Pen of All Work, New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York, February 8–April 9, 2017.


How many drawings will the wall at The Drawing Center consist of? 2000-ish. They’ll consist of all sorts of things. The wall exists as a springboard for ideas, for other drawings, paintings, sculptures, but it’s also like a huge mind map. Sometimes the drawings are done on a napkin or the back of a pack of matches and sometimes they are fully realized drawings that could be framed and hung. It’s just about getting them up on the wall to see them. What years does the wall span? I think the oldest in the show are from 2011. I call them The Honeymoon Suite haha. [They are] drawings made on the beach in Jamaica after Sam [Moyer] and I tied the knot. What have been some of your favorite shows at The Drawing Center? The Cecily Brown show was incredible.2 It gave me a whole new appreciation for her paintings and practice in general—stunning large scale drawings. Claire took me around this show and my enthusiasm matched Claire’s. I had never really looked at her work that much before and after seeing the drawings I got more excited about looking at her paintings and was really blown away. I hope my show will similarly allow the public to see my work and process in new ways.

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Cecily Brown: Rehearsal, The Drawing Center, New York, October 7, 2016–December 18, 2016.


PL . 1

Untitled, 2016


PL . 2

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 3

Untitled, 2015


PL . 4

Sculpture, 2016


PL . 5

Untitled, 2016


PL . 6

Untitled, 2016


PL . 7

Pic In Pic Study, 2016


PL . 8

Topper, 2016


PL . 9

Untitled, 2016


PL . 10

Blue Moon Blackout, 2016


PL . 11

Untitled, 2016


PL . 12

Bring Them In, 2016


PL . 13

Untitled, 2016


PL . 14

Untitled, 2016


PL . 15

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 16

Untitled (Wave Rider Study), c. 2011–17


PL . 17

Untitled, 2016


PL . 18

Untitled, 2016


PL . 19

Sound Bath, 2015


PL . 20

Open Seasonal, 2016


PL . 21

Untitled, 2016


PL . 22

Choice Market, 2016


PL . 23

Untitled, 2016


PL . 24

Untitled, 2016


PL . 25

Untitled, 2015


PL . 26

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 27

Untitled (Stump Study), c. 2011–17


PL . 28

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 29

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 30

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 31

Culture Void, c. 2011–17


PL . 32

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 33

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 34

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 35

Untitled, 2016


PL . 36

Untitled, 2016


PL . 37

Innacurate Gardiners Bay, c. 2011–17


PL . 38

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 39

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 40

Untitled, c. 2011–17


PL . 41

Untitled, c. 2011–17


LIST OF WORKS

PL . 5 / BACK COVER (DETAIL)

Untitled, 2016 All works are courtesy of the artist,

Oil paint and marker on paper

Mitchell Innes & Nash, New York

22 x 30 inches

and Timothy Taylor, London, unless otherwise noted.

PL . 6

Untitled, 2016 PAGES 26–27, 32–33, 36–37,

Oil paint, ink, and crayon on paper

42–43, 56–57, 60 – 61, 68– 69

22 x 30 inches

The “drawing wall” in Eddie Martinez’s studio, Brooklyn, New York, 2017

PL . 7

Photographs by Martin Parsekian

Pic In Pic Study, 2016 Oil paint, spray paint, oil stick, ink,

PL . 1

R&F wrapper, napkin, and collaged

Untitled, 2016

drawing on paper

Oil paint, ink, graphite, and

38 x 50 inches

spray paint on paper 22 x 30 inches

PL . 8

Topper, 2016 PL . 2

Ink, oil stick, oil paint, marker,

Untitled, c. 2011–17

and spray paint on paper

Sharpie and marker on paper

22 x 28 inches

6 x 8 inches PL . 9 PL . 3

Untitled, 2016

Untitled, 2015

Acrylic paint, marker, crayon, and

Silkscreen ink, oil paint, spray paint,

paper collage on paper

and enamel on canvas

38 x 50 inches

72 x 60 inches PL . 10 PL . 4

Blue Moon Blackout, 2016

Sculpture, 2016

Ink, enamel, crayon, oil paint,

Oil paint, acrylic paint, and marker on paper

oil stick, acrylic paint, collaged paper,

38 x 50 inches

and napkin on paper 22 1/2 x 30 1/4 inches

88


PL . 11

PL . 18

Untitled, 2016

Untitled, 2016

Graphite, oil paint, and sticker on paper

Oil paint, ink, and marker on paper

22 x 30 inches

22 x 30 inches

PL . 12

PL . 19

Bring Them In, 2016

Sound Bath, 2015

Oil paint, marker, staples, string,

Oil paint, acrylic paint, silkscreen ink, and

collaged paper, and gel medium on paper

enamel on canvas

38 x 50 inches

72 x 108 inches Collection of Ellyn & Saul Dennison

PL . 13

Untitled, 2016

PL . 20

Oil paint and ink on paper

Open Seasonal, 2016

30 x 22 inches

Oil paint, acrylic paint, ink, oil stick, enamel, and gel medium on paper

PL . 14

38 x 50 inches

Untitled, 2016 Oil paint, ink, and graphite on paper

PL . 21

30 x 22 inches

Untitled, 2016 Oil paint, enamel, spray paint, and

PL . 15

marker on paper

Untitled, c. 2011–17

22 x 30 inches

Sharpie and crayon on paper 6 x 8 inches

PL . 22

Choice Market, 2016 PL . 16 / FRONT COVER (DETAIL)

Oil paint, marker, acrylic paint

Untitled (Wave Rider Study), c. 2011–17

and linseed oil on paper

Sharpie, crayon, and white-out on paper

38 x 50 inches

6 x 8 inches PL . 23 PL . 17

Untitled, 2016

Untitled, 2016

Oil paint, spray paint, marker, and

Oil paint and spray paint on paper

crayon on paper

22 x 30 inches

22 x 30 inches

89


PL . 24

PL . 31

Untitled, 2016

Culture Void, c. 2011–17

Oil paint, ink, marker, and

Sharpie, marker, and crayon on paper

inkjet collage on paper

6 x 8 inches

22 x 30 inches PL . 32 PL . 25

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Untitled, 2015

Sharpie, crayon, and oil paint on paper

Oil paint and enamel on linen

8 x 10 inches

40 x 30 inches PL . 33 PL . 26

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Sharpie and oil paint on paper

Sharpie and crayon on paper

8 x 10 inches

6 x 8 inches PL . 34 PL . 27

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Untitled (Stump Study), c. 2011–17

Sharpie and white-out on paper

Sharpie and crayon on paper

8 x 10 inches

6 x 8 inches PL . 35 PL . 28

Untitled, 2016

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Oil paint, spray paint, ink, gel medium,

Sharpie and color pencil on paper

collaged drawing, marker, and enamel on paper

8 x 10 inches

38 x 50 inches

PL . 29

PL . 36

Untitled, c. 2011–17

Untitled, 2016

Sharpie on paper

Oil paint, enamel, crayon, and

8 x 10 inches

paper towel on paper 22 x 28 inches

PL . 30

Untitled, c. 2011–17

PL . 37

Sharpie on paper

Innacurate Gardiners Bay, c. 2011–17

8 x 10 inches

Sharpie on paper 8 x 10 inches

90


PL . 38

Untitled, c. 2011–17 Sharpie and marker on paper 8 x 10 inches PL . 39

Untitled, c. 2011–17 Sharpie on paper 6 x 8 inches PL . 40

Untitled, c. 2011–17 Sharpie and crayon on paper 8 x 10 inches PL . 41

Untitled, c. 2011–17 Sharpie, marker and crayon on paper 9 x 12 inches

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CONTRIBUTORS

Claire Gilman is Chief Curator at The Drawing Center. Katherine Bernhardt is a painter currently residing in Flatbush, Brooklyn. A graduate of both The Art Institute of Chicago and The School of Visual Arts in New York, Katherine has been active in the New York art scene for over twenty years. Bernhardt is currently represented by CANADA in New York and Carl Freedman Gallery in London. As an artist, she has explored several different themes, including supermodels, Swatch watches, Moroccan carpets, and fabric-based collages—all attesting to the symbols of modern culture. She uses acrylic and spray paint to make her paintings and draws subject matter from the objects of daily life found at the corner deli, the 99-cent store, and the Caribbean-African shops in Flatbush. Recently she has had solo shows at The Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, The Lever House in New York, and The Contemporary Art Museum in Saint Louis. Bernhardt has also exhibited at Venus over Manhattan and Karma in New York, Carl Freedman in London, and Xavier Hufkens in Brussels.


BOARD OF DIRECTORS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Co-Chairs

Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall is made

Rhiannon Kubicka

possible by the support of Beth DeWoody,

Jane Dresner Sadaka

Jeannie and T Grant, Barbara Toll, Bruce and Robbi Toll, and Craig Nerenberg.

Frances Beatty Adler Dita Amory

Special thanks to Mitchell-Innes & Nash,

Brad Cloepfil

New York, and Timothy Taylor Gallery, London.

Anita F. Contini Andrea Crane Stacey Goergen Amy Gold Steven Holl Iris Z. Marden Nancy Poses Eric Rudin David Salle Joyce Siegel Galia Meiri Stawski Barbara Toll Waqas Wajahat Isabel Stainow Wilcox Candace Worth Emeritus Michael Lynne George Negroponte Elizabeth Rohatyn Jeanne C. Thayer Executive Director Brett Littman


2 017–18

P rogram U nderwriter

INDIVIDUAL SUPP ORTERS

George Held Heide Fasnacht

D irector ’ s C ouncil

Robert Schechter

Julia Pershan and Jonathan Cohen

Mary and Lawrence Freedman

Rhiannon Kubicka and Theo Blackston

Thomas Buser

Isabel Stainow Wilcox

Denis Gardarin Anne C. Gable

A rtist ’ s Patron

Carolyn Eisenhardt

Anne H. Bass and Julian Lethbridge

Ruth Hardinger

Marcy Carsey

Susan Palamara

Emy Cohenca

Shelly and Vincent Fremont

Suzanne and Jacob Doft

Margaret and Willard Boepple

The Pierre and Tana Matisse Foundation

Karl Klingbiel

Anna Getty and Scott Osler

Susan Higby and Mark Waskow

Barbara Toll Claire Weisz C atalogue S ponsor

Libby and Adrian Ellis Patrick Kissane Nancy Olnick and Giorgio Spanu Thea Westreich Wagner and Ethan Wagner E ducation B enefactor

Gilbert Butler Robert Dealy Mia Enell and Nicolas Fries Francis Greenburger Jane and Michael Horvitz Morris A. Orden K. Brad Van Woert III Daniela Velan Angelica and Neil Rudenstine


G aller y S upporter

A nnual F und

Mary Arouni

Katie Adams Schaeffer

Liza Berdnik

Elizabeth Albert

Nancy E. and Charles Busch

Noriko Ambe

Simone Carbonel

Dita Amory and Graham Nickson

Laura Cosgrave

Melissa L. Kretschmer and Carl Andre

Deborah Coulter

Judy Angelo

Gregory Drozdek

Naomi Antonakos

Charles Fears

Jeffrey Beck

Margot Finkel and Arkadiusz Piegdon

Olivia Bernard

John Forgach

Brian Brady

Saskia Friedrich

Mina Takahashi and Marco Breuer

Anne Gilman

Laurene Krasny Brown

Crista Grauer

Caroline Burton

Jack Hazerjian

Constance Caplan

Jo Ann Hendricks

Prudence Carlson

Rainer Keller

Vija Celmins

Lisa Kirt

Catalina Marta Chervin

Carla Klevan

Joan Spaulding and Henry Cobb

Anne Lindberg

Wendy and David Coggins

Margaret and Daniel Loeb

Elizabeth Currie

Audrey Melkin

Rachel Feinstein and John Currin

Rod Morton

Hester Diamond

Marcia Patmos

Devon Dikeou and Fernando Troya

Paul Pearson

Susan and Thomas Dunn

Elizabeth Pergam

John Tyler Evans

Virginia and Jean Perrette

Gwen and David Feher

Michael Putnam

Ruth Fields and Gerald McCue

Carol Ruderman

Carol Flueckiger

Bob Ryder

Maxine and Stuart Frankel

Roger Schickedantz

Shelly and Vincent Fremont

Drew Shiflett

Hugh Freund

Anita Thacher

Ellen and Norman Galinsky

Luca Veggetti

Stacey and Rob Goergen

Henry V. Zimet

Laurel Gonsalves Nancy and Stuart Goode Susan M. Gosin and Richard Barrett Kathryn and Mark Green Constance Grey


A nnual F und ( C O N T I N U E D )

David Ray

Francoise Grossen

Barry Redlich

Linda and Hans Haacke

Janelle Reiring

Susan Harris

Jane L. Richards

Jack Hazerjian

Elissa and Great Neck Richman

Allison and W. Keyes Hill-Edgar

Steve Roden

Ken Hudes

Ed Ruscha

Sara Kasirer and Bruce Teitelbaum

Anthony Russell

Nina Katchadourian

Mary Sabbatino

David G. Keeton

Suzanne Salzinger

Rebecca and Gilbert Kerlin

Louisa Stude Sarofim

Eylene and Donald King

Joyce Pomeroy Schwartz

Patrick Kissane

Robert Seng

Cynthia Knox and Carla Rae Johnson

Gil Shiva

Andrew Kohler

Dominique Singer and Joan Greenfield

Sally and Werner H. Kramarsky

Galia Meiri-Stawski and Axel Stawski

Jill and Peter Kraus

Alfred Steiner

Duff and John Lambros

Andrew Tisch

John Laughlin

Calvin Towle

Raymond Learsy

Thomas Trudeau

Scott Lifshutz

Jane and Garry Trudeau

Nancy Linden

Lily Tuck

Margaret and Daniel Loeb

Candace King Weir

Patricia Lyell and Robert Gilston

Kara and Steven Wise

Jordana Martin Billy Martin Constance and H. Roemer McPhee Linn Meyers Marion Miller Carolina Nitsch Catherine and Guy Nordenson Mary Obering Morris A. Orden Tristan Perich Sandra Perlow Olivia Petrides Jody Pinto Jessie and Charles Price


E D WA R D H A L L A M T U C K P U B L I C AT I O N P R O G R A M

This is number 134 of the Drawing Papers, a series of publications documenting The Drawing Center’s exhibitions and public programs and providing a forum for the study of drawing. Noah Chasin Executive Editor Joanna Ahlberg Managing Editor Designed by AHL&CO This book is set in Adobe Garamond Pro and Berthold Akzidenz Grotesk. It was printed by Puritan Capital in Hollis, New Hampshire.

I S B N 9 7 8 - 0 9 4 2 3 24 - 5 3 - 2 Š 2 017 T he D rawing C enter


THE D R AWI N G CENTER

3 5 W O O S T E R S T R E E T | N E W YO R K , N Y 10 013 T 212 219 216 6 | F 8 8 8 . 3 8 0 . 3 3 6 2 | D R AW I N G C E N T E R . O R G


Essay by Claire Gilman Interview by Katherine Bernhardt

D R AW I N G PA P E R S 1 3 4

$20.00 US

ISBN 9 78 0 9 42 324 5 32 52000

9

780942

324532

Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall  
Eddie Martinez: Studio Wall  

The Drawing Center’s Drawing Papers, Volume 134, featuring an essay by Claire Gilman and an interview by Katherine Bernhardt.

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