21 | Artist profile: Ted Larsen

Solo Exhibition | Ted Larsen from March 8- April 15, 2025 | opening night Saturday March 8, 2025 6-9

Short Stack, 2025

Salvage Steel, Marine-grade Plywood, Silicone

Vulcanized Rubber, Vinyl Spackle, Hardware

5 3/4 x 7 1/2 x 5 1/4 inches

Career Narrative | Ted Larsen

My life has been a kaleidoscope. As a child raised in rural southwestern Michigan on the shores of the Great Lakes, I explored the natural world just outside my back door. I built forts in the sand dunes behind our house, climbed trees and swam in Lake Michigan. My father owned a large commercial orchid greenhouse and I also spent a good bit of time exploring the boiler and mechanical rooms. It was heaven for a curious and adventurous young boy.

The combination of activities formed an enduring interest for me; the natural world offset by the man-made world of machines. By the time I was a teenager my parents had moved us to Santa Fe, New Mexico. There a collision of cultures—Anglo, Hispanic, and Native American—pushed the range of my mind even further. Right before moving my father joined my mother in her field of work: artist. They thought moving to Santa Fe would offer many advantages for their work while also providing a more restful place to raise my sister and me than a bustling urban environment. It proved to be just that. After the initial culture shock, I again found my footing by exploring the natural world in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains just outside of Santa Fe, as well as exploring the stunning array of archaeological sites throughout the area.

"Purity comes from distillation. Through a process of removal, things become more clear. What is removed can be as important as what remains." - Ted Larsen, April 2020

Big Town, 2024

Salvage Steel, Marine-grade Plywood, Silicone,

Vulcanized Rubber, Hardware

9 1/2 x 13 1/4 x 2 1/4 inches

The qualities of nature co-existing with human made creations, such as architecture, suspension bridges crossing huge gorges, and the remnants of the Cold War in Los Alamos, again came together in a fascinating way for me. In many ways my early academic career was perfunctory. I read what was proposed, wrote what was required, and worked well enough to be regarded as a better than average student. Along with the rote academic curriculum, I fortunately had teachers who fostered in me a relentless curiosity about the nature of things. Over time these questions formed the basis of how I would approach the world.

By the time I graduated from university it was abundantly clear that my passion was in creative endeavors. I graduated from Northern Arizona University with honors, having majored in Geology and Art. I was given an exhibition of my college-level art at the university art museum in 1986, and quickly made advances in the work which resulted in my first real exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in 1987 at age 22. The basis of my studio work was a painted exploration of the natural world. As had been the case throughout my childhood, I was drawn to places of beauty, but mostly places where the beauty of the natural world existed alongside the alterations of man. Over the next 15 years this was my path and I tirelessly honed my practice with a reductive eye, allowing just the most important aspects of these places into the composition. The work became reductive and spare, which allowed for greater interpretation. I exhibited this work quite successfully and to critical acclaim during this 15 years.

Boxed Out, 2024

Salvage Steel, Silicone, Rivets

12 x 10 x 8 inches

Toward my mid- thirties, without a full understanding of why, I felt restless and was not satisfied with my work. In the late 1990’s I began experimenting with new and different materials, than an event of monumental impact occurred. Watching the Twin Towers collapse on television, over and over, I abandoned painting entirely as I had known it. Up to that point, my work had always referenced things outside of myself, relating to the natural world. In a sense it was a form a simulacra. Watching the disastrous events of 9/11 take place on a TV codified something new for me. I no longer wanted to make work which referenced something or was about something other than itself. No more artifice, just purity. It wasn’t seeing the events happening that shaped this new idea, it was rather in how I saw them—on a TV.

I continued these new explorations with increasing reductive inclinations, and slowly developed a new pathway. There were many epistemological and aesthetic considerations which have informed me along the way. With a Post-minimalist interest in the expressive qualities of materials, an abiding love of natural materials, how they might encounter industrial materials, and the interdependency between them, I made my first truly reductive work within a year of 9/11. I called them objects as they felt like hybrids between painting and sculpture, but were neither. This is still the basis of my current work. As successful and rewarding as my previous work had been, this new work would take me on a journey I could not have anticipated or loved more.

Rubber Bumper, 2024

Salvage Steel, Marine-grade Plywood, Silicone,

Vulcanized Rubber, Hardware, Rubber Bumper

5 1/4 x 3 1/2 x 2 1/4 inches

Since 2001 I have had over150 exhibitions of the new work with extraordinary critical success. One of the issues I had faced as a painter was making surfaces and qualities in the painting which felt like landscape. Unburdened by representation, I now wrestled with how to make things which were real to themselves. My first discovery was using pre-painted materials. They we real to themselves. They needed no simulation for effect. The pre-painted surface also allowed me a way to appropriate paint conceptually as my “own paint.” I reject the brush, but not painting itself. Metaphorically these pre-painted surfaces also allow me to reference art history, one of my abiding loves. Of the many things which High Minimalism taught me, its use of serialized repetitious form and modular structures which imply infinite reiteration have proven quite important to my work.

I often work within a unit system in which I create geometric building blocks, and by ordering them or placing them in different positions relative to one another, they create new patterns beyond the original units. By covering them with the pre-painted material they become shaped “paintings.” Because these objects inhabit the wall, a place traditionally occupied by painting, they reference painting, and yet function beyond that. Sculpture holds the possibility of magic; things can appear or disappear depending on where you stand in relation to the work.

Brief Survey, 2024

Salvage Steel, Marine-grade Plywood, Silicone,

Vulcanized Rubber, Hardware

10 1/2 x 6 1/2 x 2 1/4 inches

Painting doesn’t function like this; no matter where you stand, the piece will always look essentially the same. I love the absolute quality of painting and the endless possibilities of seeing sculpture poses. One of the many things my work addresses is where painting ends and where sculpture begins. I am involved with hybridizing them to see what possibilities can emerge. The works I create are intended to supply commentary on minimalist belief systems and the ultimate importance of High Art practice. It is my aim to bring purist shapes and surfaces back down to earth. Another important aspect of my ongoing experimentation with my hybrids deals with context and scale. It is my perception that context and content are always in conversation. It is not possible to isolate one from the other without changing the meaning of the work. Therefore, placement of the work is critical to seeing and understanding the work. Scale is another critical aspect in determining meaning.

My work is generally small, typically not much wider than my shoulders and often considerably smaller. Standing in the great history of makers of pure abstraction, I hope to be humble in the advocation of my work and honor those who have traveled this path before me. By making work which is small in scale but grand in conceptual stature, I hope to honor my aesthetic heroes and challenge the notion of small work’s visual impact in context: small work on a large wall—made to hold the wall because of the strength of its presence. All of these ingredients come together in the work to create a pleasing formality and visual elegance while challenging modernist purity.

Carrot Top, 2024

Salvage Steel, Marine-grade Plywood, Silicone,

Vulcanized Rubber, Hardware

7 1/2 x 6 1/4 x 2 1/4 inches

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Find Ted on instagram

20 | Artist profile: Tom Martinelli

Installation view studio light | space Untitled (SeqOrbs) [TM.0452] 2023 Acrylic on canvas 45 x 30 in. 

Photo: Logan Havens

Tom Martinelli was born and raised in New York City, receiving his BFA from the School of Visual Arts and his MFA from Hunter College. He has been exhibiting his work since the late 80’s. Some of the venues include White Columns Gallery, David Richard Gallery NY/Santa Fe, Paula Cooper Gallery, James Graham and Sons, Pierogi, the Brooklyn Museum, The MAC, Dallas; the Carnegie Museum; Tom Solomon's Garage, LA CA; Norte Maar, Brooklyn NY. He recently had a mini-retrospective at the Wright Contemporary in Taos, NM.

He’s been the recipient of two Pollock-Krasner Foundation grants as well as a New York Foundation for the Arts grant. Numerous fellowships and residencies include Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, the Elizabeth Foundation, Yaddo, Millay Colony and Tyrone Guthrie Center, Ireland. Tom has taught at Hunter College, the New School and Yale University. He arrived in New Mexico from New York in 2006.

Tom is a devoted student of meditation and has spent long periods of time in meditation retreats. Many of his works have a transcendent, contemplative aura.

“I’ve often trusted, even welcomed what comes unsought. Sensitivity to that

has been an important part of life….”

Santa Fe Studio interior detail 2024 Photo: Tom Martinelli

What’s your earliest memory of an encounter with art or design? 

My early memories are of making things. I don’t know what inspired the things I made as a child but most of my memories of grade school are the process of making something… like doing book reports in the form of a bound collection of drawn images or cutting colored paper. Lots of crayons. I’ve been told that as a child I would sit around and draw. I wish I had those drawings. They never made it into the archive. 

My maternal grandfather Felix, an immigrant from northern Italy near Milan, was the one who had the aesthetic sensibility. He was a very skilled craftsman… did jewelry work, tailoring, photography. He wanted nothing more for me than that I keep drawing and painting. As a child I was aware of the objects in my grandparents Astoria apartment - their design was different from the usual household things in other homes. He had a circular glass clock. I had never seen anything like it. Each hand was on a circular glass plate and each hand rotated independently from the other. You could see through the glass and take in the world at the same time. Very minimal, kind of old world futuristic. He once made me a 2 headed nickel by filing down the backsides of 2 nickels and wielding them together. It was just so odd and flawless and cool. I still regret having lost track of that gem. I likely confused it with the rest of the change in my pocket and spent it. Even their living room chairs were different. Everyone seemed to look better sitting in them. 

When I was a kid my father would take me to Chelsea to the offset print factory where he worked, usually on Saturdays. I had a fascination with the printing machinery and the off-registration print that the presses would spew out as they were being calibrated. To see an image separated into these 4 bright colors and then coming together to form something so different from their base elements was a small miracle to me. 

Untitled (SeqOrbs) [TM.0225] 2024 Acrylic on canvas 60 x 40 in. 

What was the cultural or creative make up of your family? Were you the “creative one” or was your family in the arts? 

My immediate family was a very working class. We lived in Queens. Not much interest in art or aesthetics. Lots of tv. Of course one can be working class and have a great affinity for aesthetic beauty but this wasn’t the case in the household. Yes, I was the “creative one” and Grandpa Felix kind of saved the day. 

When did you start making art, and what inspired you to pursue it as a vocation? 

I phased out of my early interest in making things when I went to a high school in the Bronx. It was very academic - heavy in science and mathematics… it didn't even offer a single art class. My favorite class was a technical drawing class. We would make schematic drawings of nuts and bolts and stuff like that. I loved it. After high school, due to parental pressure, I went to Queens College in NY but only for about 6 weeks and then I quit. My friends and I bought an old school bus at a NYC auction and took off on a year-long hippy/Ken Kesey bus trip. When I got back to NY I was 18 or 19 and found out I had cancer. Recovering after a long period of brutal surgery and treatments I decided to go back to school to study art. In the end it was the only thing I was really interested in.  

Work in progress in the Roswell studio | Photo: Tom Martinelli

What are some of the prevailing themes explored in your work? 

I tend to go a bit blank when the word ‘theme’ or ‘meaning’ comes up. I work with promptings and processes often having to do with repetition, with progressions, with slightly non-symmetrical symmetry (also known as perfect imperfection). These things can act as a stable element or as scaffolding in the painting. I usually start with a loosely conceived idea, not necessarily an articulated, targeted subject matter or end point but a way of moving through the painting, like a road map drawn on the back of a napkin. The current work uses a progression of Fibonacci numbers. They elicit for me a sense of an unfolding path or expansion. 

I love the color relationships in your work, can you describe how you arrive at the color palette for a painting (or series) 

I pivot off primary and secondary colors. There is a systematic approach at least as an entry point. I might define a color progression as going from close value, unsaturated color to high contrast, saturated color but it’s really in the spirit of a loose road trip and not a pursuit of perfection. The imagined endpoint gets me out the door. In the recent work I've focused more on color relationships than I have in the past. The color decisions in these works though have been quite difficult. I find that when I go down the path of color relationships everything becomes about the color. I’m working now on bringing back a sense of touch which has always been important to me. The physical body can make decisions that might differ from what the mind might want to do. 

Detail of the Roswell studio 2025 | Photo: Tom Martinelli

Installation view | Left:Untitled (SeqOrbs) [TM.0225] 2024 Acrylic on canvas 60 x 40 in. Right: Untitled (SeqOrbs) [TM.0478] 2024 Acrylic on canvas | Photo: Logan Havens

I noticed a red underpainting on the big black and white painting – is that something you often start with? (It’s interesting to see the underpainting bleed through) 

I usually start with a color (or colors) on the ground. It gives me something to respond to. I like the evidence that remains of what's underneath. Sometimes that little bit of exposed painting can be a portal to offer a viewer a way in. Abstraction sometimes reveals itself best by being asked questions and small bits of painting detail can be a starting point. I’ve had studio visits that begin with talking about a particular edge in a painting. 

If you care to, can you describe the templates that you have used and kept, and what you are thinking about using them? 

I’ve often worked with stencils and I apply paint through them with foam paint rollers. I use rollers more than brushes. I cut the stencils out of thin mylar sheets. I use a few different tools to cut them including circular punches and compasses designed for cutting circles. I started using stencils in the early 90’s to do the series of ‘dot’ paintings I worked on for a number of years. Back then a 6 x 6 ft. painting would have a corresponding 6 x 6 ft. stiff plastic sheet with holes punched in it. I spent as much time on the stencils back then as on the painting. It was a bit maniacal. Over the years I've accumulated a tonnage of stencils. I’ve always been reluctant to get rid of them. Some of the benefits of working with stencils is that they allow me to position a shape and move it around without outlining it. I can paint the shape with rollers. The form comes into being more quickly as a full form… for me more satisfying than outlining and filling in. Rollers also have their own responsiveness to touch and pressure and I like this. Early on I used to do house painting to earn money and I loved rolling out walls. 

You accept imperfection in your paintings, the incidental, which I appreciate – where does that acceptance come from? 

I’ve often trusted, even welcomed what comes unsought. Sensitivity to that has been an important part of life. Stencils and rollers can provide an environment for all kinds of wonderful bleeding and unanticipated edge leaks to occur. What might be seen as an accident can have a valid, even intelligent voice, often suggesting not a loss or a mistake but an addition to the story. Sometimes paint bleeding under a stencil offers a sense of ‘touch’ or a relatable kind of imperfection. It’s also a reminder that I’m not in control of everything and maybe don't I want to be. In my life some of the things I value most are things I have found. 

Martinelli in Santa Fe Studio

“

There is a systematic approach at least as an entry point. I might define a color progression as going from close value, unsaturated color to high contrast, saturated color but it’s really in the spirit of a loose road trip and not a pursuit of perfection.”

How has your practice evolved over the years? 

It seems to spiral back and forth in time as if I’m looking at the same things but with a different relationship to my own thoughts and feelings. In outward ways it’s withdrawn from theory and history and more a means of examining myself more deeply. I think too my thinking and experience of beauty has shifted. I’m not sure I can say more about this. 

What is one tool or object that you use daily (and how or why)? 

In the studio it’s usually a foam paint roller, masking tape, a stencil. In non-studio life it's a toothbrush. 

Please describe your new studio since moving to Roswell. How are you settling in there? 

I really like the new studio. Great light. Good space surrounding the studio. It feels both secure and expansive. It also has quite an historic lineage including Milton Resnick, Pat Passlof, Luis Jiménez and many others. It’s a registered historic landmark with a brass plaque on the door. I’ve been pretty lucky with studios since I got to New Mexico. My first couple years were spent in Agnes Martin’s studio in Galisteo NM. 

Finally, what’s inspiring you at the moment? 

I’m getting older so the awareness that the end of life is closer than it was yesterday - there's a certain amount of heat to this :) 

On different note, since he recently passed away, I have been revisiting and taking in David Lynch. Not just the work but his attitude, his spirit. I've been listening to his words and appreciating a deep trust he has in his process. He combines weirdness and sincerity and spontaneity and a subtle spiritual perspective. I like that he speaks about the place meditation has in his life. 

On yet another different note where I’m living there are these beautiful pecan tree groves - massive grids of trees. I spent time with them. And of course always and forever the spacious New Mexican sky. 

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Find Tom on instagram