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.

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. 

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.  

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. 

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. 

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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