Artist Enrique Martínez Celaya sits in front of “Birch (wood-milk) 2002,” an oil and tar on canvas painting, now on view at the Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery

ABY L. KENT WOLGAMOTT

Lincoln Journal Star

A wintry white tree sits alone in the cold. A flash of brownishgold light falls over the outline of a person. A pensive figure, he ad slightly bowed, appears to be moving across abroad field. The field is black. So is the background of everyother image.

A black that varies in shade. A black that reflects. A blackthat invites study, then contemplation.

Blackness that provides the underpinning for "The OctoberCycle, 2000-2002," a pivotal series in the career of EnriqueMartínez Celaya, a Cuban emigre now living in Los Angeleswho is emerging as one of today's most important artists.

A poet, sculptor and photographer as well as a painter,Martínez Celaya is seeing his works purchased by majormuseums around the world and much coveted by collectors.Unlike many contemporary artists who make art based ontheory, attempt to "shock" or create just to sell, MartínezCelaya is concerned with meaning, with aesthetics, withmorality, ethics and spirituality.

black and white birchesopenand then dissolvein the light of morning.A morning of feathers,of the frail water of snow.

In the clearingthe mercifulraises his handless arm.The architect of black barkreleases a doveof the lightest wood.The wood of your exit.

All doors open to a withering gardenfrom which you will not return.In the unspoken whiteof the hour of angelsthe remembered, bruised and restless,collapses unheardon icy leaves.The mirrorthat you placed on his antlersrolls and softly etches a line andwhen it comes to restIt is all sky– unveiled, beyond mercy.

In the reflection a doveopens then dissolvesin the light of morning.A morning of hunger,of the coming of winter.

In the unspoken whiteof the hour of angelsthe remembered, bruised and restless,collapses unheardon icy leaves.The mirrorthat you placed on his antlersrolls and softly etches a line and when it comes to restit is all sky–unvelied, beyond mercy.

–Enrique Martínez Celaya,reprinted with permission.

p r e m o n i t i o n o f w i n t e r

O c t o b e r

Those elements can all be seen in the 22 paintings of"The October Cycle," which are being shown together forthe first time at the Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery.

"The exhibition is a product of our desire to do somethingmeaningful together, something that would challenge him asan artist and challenge me as a critic and curator," said Sheldoncurator Daniel Siedell, whoput together the exhibitionover the past two years.

Martínez Celaya spent theweek before the show's Nov.21 opening in Lincoln givinglectures and gallery talks,doing studio critiques withUniversity of Nebraska-Lincoln art students ands i t t i n g down for interviews --all part of his effort to builda bridge to his art.

Martínez Celaya talks about the paintings in "The OctoberCycle" as striking a balance between presence and reference.That is, that they manage to work both as objects in and ofthemselves, drawing on the ideas of minimalism, and asrepresentative pieces with subject matter.

L a rge and dark, the paintings are captivating rectanglesof negative space hanging on the walls of Sheldon's whitecube galleries. Made of tar -- and, in two cases, tar andfeathers -- the paintings have physical depth rarelyachieved with oil and are carefully controlled explorationsof reflection and absorption of light.

Close examination reveals myriad tones of black andsurfaces that can be smooth, etched with lines or, in thecase of "Woodrooms," a depiction of a pinkish seashell,rough and unsettled because of the feathers embedded inthe emulsified tar that Martínez Celaya has made his medium.

Painting into tar is a far different process than paintinginto oil. The colors he applies to the tar change or fadeaway entirely, requiring multiple layers to create theprecise shades and level of visibility. But that repetition isfar from frustrating for the artist.

"It allowed me to do this thing I could never resolvebefore," Martínez Celaya said. "I could be as spontaneousand gestural as I want in a moment of painting. But thenmost of it disappears under the tar. And I get to rework it andrework it. So I can be meticulous and spontaneous at once."

This reworking is one of the keys to Martínez Celaya'spaintings. Deliberately spare and simple to the point ofnear crudeness, the paintings are crafted to create tension.If a painting is easily resolved and understood, MartínezCelaya paints over it, eliminating all or part of the imageryto deliberately undermine the work and force an uneasyambiguity onto the picture plane.

• • •

Is there some sense of finding beauty in this material thatpeople think is the ugly, smelly stuff you put on your roof or onthe street?

"That's a very good question. What people call the beautiful,what they really mean is the pretty. The beautiful in my mindis that which works, that which is true, that is beautiful.

Ty p i c a l l y, in order to get there andnot get confused with all the noiseof the pretty, sometimes you've gotto go exactly where it is disgusting.There's a seduction in that also.There's a fetishistic quality ofgoing to these kind of rough things,and that becomes its ownmannerism. So what I'm alwaysinterested in doing is underminingmy own comfort with somethingthat may have been uncomfortable

at first, but no longer is...."At the end, I would like it if it pulls you away from the

grotesque into something that is inevitable. That inevitability isin the direction of what I call the beautiful."

That kind of turns the classic "the good, the true and thebeautiful" on its head. I think that's one of the reasons peoplehave some difficulty with contemporary art -- they don'tunderstand that that idea can change from Renaissance painting.

“Distance,” 2002, Oil and tar on canvas.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––‘At the end, I would like it if it pullsyou away from the grotesque intosomething that is inevitable. Thatinevitability is in the direction ofwhat I call the beautiful.’

–Enrique Martínez Celaya––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"I think you're right. People think the idea of art has somuch to do with this aspect of the craft, that you be ableto draw pretty, like T h o m a sKinkade or something, whichis actually so grotesque. T h eother side: this almostb o u rgeois idea of thisrefinement that is really notrefinement. All the life hasbeen taken out of it. Now itjust seems so tidy, and thattidiness is grotesque. This isd i fficult to say to the societyat large. The words may beeasy for them to understand,but what we're talking about,that doesn't make sense."

• • •

"The October Cycle" had itsorigins in the 2001 birth of Martínez Celaya's daughterGabriella and in "Guide," a book he wrote about aconversation between himself and an imaginary mentor.Martínez Celaya says he wrote the book so he would beasked questions he thought needed to be asked about hisart and life.

The answers led him to begin the series of paintings thatalso picked up on some of the ideas from his poem" O c t o b e r," which is available on small cards outside theSheldon gallery doors.

The "October" imagery was most explicitly seen in "ComingHome," a 2001 sculpture of a boy and large elk created out oftar and feathers. But some of it continues in the paintings ofstarkly beautiful trees and snowflakes on view at Sheldon.For October, in Martínez Celaya's mind, presents the first hintof winter and stands as an invitation to introspection.

• • •

Since we're on the subject of poetry, how do the two relate?Most visual artists aren't real adept with words, and you seemto be able to put both of them together.

"I think originally this split happened back when I was inhigh school. I had been trained academically as an artist andas I moved into contemporary art and modern art, I foundvery few role models I was interested in. I was not reallyinterested in what was happening visually, but I was interestedin the contemporary moment. I found all the people I wasthinking about and were sources were literary people -- writersand poets. Which is very interesting. So when people wouldask me, 'What are your influences?' I would always talk aboutliterature people. In turn, my own interest in poetrydeveloped. I wanted to write. To this day, that's still the way I work ...

"I found that poetry was a great sounding board for the workthat I was doing, a way that whenever I got stuck visually Iwould go back to poetry. I would mine into language and I

would come back to work andwould be able to work again.

" A l s o , another thing Idiscovered over time, was beinga b l e t o w o r k i n language freed the work from so manyliterary associations. The workdidn't have to be narrative. I was getting my narrative fill, if you like, elsewhere. So I canlet the work be a fragmentwithout narrative."

• • •

With sketchy images placed inthe center of the black canvases,the paintings in "The OctoberCycle" intentionally resist

instant easy viewing.The solitary figures are in side profile, their outlined

shapes refusing to give up more than their essentialhumanity. There are few details to fill in the story. When theyexist, like the frame house in "Seated Figure," they onlyenhance a feeling of, for example, onging for the reassuranceprovided by home.

Martínez Celaya m a i n t a i n s that his work is not a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l .But two of the pivotal pieces in "The October Cycle" are drawndirectly from his life.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––‘What happens is you get thisboundary between the known andthe unknown. At that boundary,reason fails and cognition fails.Then you need to do this leapbetween the known and theunknown. There is where artbegins. If you begin art anywhereelse before this boundary, it is useless.’

–Enrique Martínez Celaya–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Woodrooms” is one of two paitings in “The October Cycle” done on a surfacemade of tar and feathers.

"Gabriela (First)"titled after his then-infant daughter, depictsthe sketchily outlined arms of an adult figure tossing a babyinto the air or about to catch the child as it comes down. "Thetrust and risk of that gesture is really the trust and risk ofpainting and is really the trust and risk of living," MartínezCelaya said. "You hope she will come down in your arms andeverything will be fine."

"Distance," the final painting in the cycle, presages thebirth early this year of Martínez Celaya's son Sebastían andpoints to his subsequent series of works. In that image, thetwo figures become more precise -- a father and his son,with a richly painted, almost pasty column of color in thearea between them.

Beyond those references, Martínez Celaya has strippedstorytelling from the paintings, aiming at something moreessential and universal.

If the question "What is The October Cycle' about?" had tobe answered with a single word, it would be: time.O r, more precisely, how does each individual deal with time?

The traces and fragments reflect the artist's concern withm e m o r y, that what we recall is incomplete, bringing back onlylittle bits of the past. The reflection of the almost meditativefigures touches on theinterplay between thetemporary and the permanent.The images of natureincorporate the passing of theseasons, and the children raisethe idea of the shortness ofeach life.

Aiming the viewer atreflection and contemplation,something is clearly spiritualin Martínez Celaya's paintings.In his illuminating essay in theexhibition's catalog, Siedellidentifies it as a search for thesacred. But beyond a cruciformoutlined figure beneath a treebranch in "Rosemilk," there isnothing close to religiousimagery in the cycle.

• • •

Which leads right to this: I have written down "Can art beexplained?" On some level, the answer is yes. But if it's realart, I don't think it can really be explained.

"I think this is really an interesting question. Somepeople, the people who are not very informed, think whatyou mean is that we just stand here like two fools, wecannot say anything about this painting. It's not that. Wecan say a lot of things. We can even sound like we'rereally knowledgeable. But if you listen to what can besaid, you realize the nugget of what makes the paintinggreat is not being talked about."

Martínez Celaya, 39, first put brush to canvas when hewas about 8 years old, painting to try to understand whatwas happening inside and around him as his familyprepared to leave Cuba to join his father in Spain.

The feeling of exile has never left him. He compares itto jumping off a cliff -- a fall that can only be slowedthrough his art, a process that continues with "Boatboy," anoutline of a paper boat from "The October Cycle."

In 1975, the family moved from Spain to Puerto Rico,where Martínez Celaya apprenticed with an academicp a i n t e r. At the same time, he became interested in physics.In the 10th grade, he built a laser that earned him aNational Congress of Science award.

In 1982, he began studying applied physics at CornellU n i v e r s i t y. In 1986, he graduated from Cornell and enteredthe doctorate program in quantum electronics at theUniversity of California, Berkeley, spending his summersworking at Brookhaven National Laboratory.

Three years later, he abandoned physics and the MFA a r tprogram in which he was enrolled and began working at alaser company, where he patented four inventions on lasersand laser delivery. But he soon decided to earn his living

selling his art in SanFrancisco's parks.

• • •

On the idea of art andphysics, it seems to me thatsome of your art is almostrational inquiry as ascientific method. But you'reasking questions that are notgoing to have a specificanswer ... there's not going tobe at some point a righta n s w e r. That has to beinteresting for somebodywho has a scientific mind. "What you're pointing at is

something that is afundamental part of myapproach to art work. That is,

everything you can do with reason and cognition, youshould do it that way because it is the most efficient thing.What happens is you get to this boundary between theknown and the unknown. At that boundary, reason failsand cognition fails. Then you need to do this leap betweenthe known and the unknown. There is where art begins. Ifyou begin art anywhere else before the boundary, it isuseless. ... In art work, you can do this jump unlikeanything else. (Austrian philosopher Ludwig) Wi t t g e n s t e i nhas this famous line: `That what you cannot speak about,you must be silent about.' That's a great bridge from whichart can begin."

Enrique Martínez Celaya talks with University of Nebraska-Lincoln artgraduate student Roxanne Jackson in her Richards Hall studio during hisrecent trip to Lincoln. In addition to talking about his work, Martínez Celayadid studio critiques with a number of UNL art students.

Recently, Martínez Celaya, who earned his MFA in 1994and taught at Pomona College in Claremont, Calif., untilearly this year, has moved up a notch or two in the artworld. In 2001, a retrospective of his work toured severalmuseums. The Metropolitan Museum of Art just purchasedthree of his paintings. A Berlin museum bought an entireinstallation. There is a waiting list of collectors who wantone of his pieces.

That success doesn't come as a shock to Bill Griffin, whohas been Martínez Celaya's dealer since 1997.

"There's an inevitability that's there in Martínez Celaya,"Griffin said. "That is nothing new. He and I knew it sixyears ago. It's only becoming clear to others now. We'rejust scratching the surface."

Modeling his Los Angeles gallery on that of Daniel-Henry Kannweiler, the European dealer who handledPablo Picasso, Griffin represents only a handful of artistswho he believes are doing important work with depth andstaying power. Then he promotes their art as somethingmore than expensive decoration for the houses of the rich.

That means that Griffin does things like support thepublication of catalogs, promote works to museums andencourage Martínez Celaya to give talks and continue topresent his ideas and philosophy -- in Griffin's words,"spreading the message not that he's a painter, he's a thinker. "

Art world success, however, now means MartínezCelaya is approached by collectors asking which paintingin a series is the most "typical," code for the bestinvestment for resale. Having his work at auction isunsettling. More unnerving is the idea of producing workjust for the commercial market.

"Corruption is always around the corner," MartínezCelaya said. "My point of view is constantly one of activebattling. I never feel like I'm above all that. That's why, sofar, I feel good to say I haven't sold out. I keep reminderseverywhere in my studio... to remember that there arealternatives. Because, after a while in the art world, thehigher you move,the more you start to feel there is no otherway of doing it than the way all the posers and marketmanipulators are doing it. You need constant reminders.Otherwise, you'd just get lost."

So far, Griffin said, the increased visibility and successand the pressure that accompanies them haven't alteredeither Martínez Celaya or the quality of his work.

"He hasn't changed a bit," Griffin said. "He's like a rock.He's so solid. He's going after his version of history, I think."

• • •

Do you feel like you're at an interesting, pivotal point inyour life and career. With your two kids now and your lifegoing that way and your art profile increasing and your artchanging? Do you think about that explicitly?

"I'm thinking about it more explicitly than ever before.Every life you can look back and say, 'This was a huge turnof events.' Sometimes you realize those are the moments,

sometimes you don't. I think when I left the Ph.D. program,that was a huge moment. There are not that many in termsof my work. The next one was when I tarred and featheredall of my paintings and became interested in the idea of Zenand how to make a different kind of painting than the one Iwas making. I think this is another moment, and this is muchmore complicated one because it's more encompassing.

"I've spent the last year and a half trying to figure outwhere to move. That idea of a move is really a question ofwhat kind of life do I want to have in relation to my familyand my work. As the work is now being acquired by theMetropolitan, the Whitney and things like that and peopleare wanting the work and there's a waiting list and stuff, Isee that whole world as increasingly more separated frommy own desires. How do you maintain that vitality? Itsounds corny and cliche, but how do you remain honest towhat you're trying to do?"

Enrique Martínez Celaya, artist, continues to search for the way.