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אגנס מרטין(1912-2004)

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Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall." Of the many modernist painters who imbued their geometries with a spiritual dimension, Agnes Martin is the one whose paintings resonate most deeply with a life of ascetic simplicity. In 1967, she left New York City and the art world, renounced worldly pursuits, and embarked on an eighteen-month odyssey across the untamed Western American landscape. It was the prelude to a life of seclusion, where on a remote mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, Martin built a sanctuary by hand, shaping adobe and timber into a unique domicile. Living without the conveniences of a telephone, electricity, or indoor plumbing, she practiced the art of life, not the life of a painter. That deeply devoted spiritual and moral quest separates Agnes Martin from the geometric visionaries such as Piet Mondrian or Ad Reinhardt, with whom she would otherwise be associated. After a seven-year hiatus, 62-year-old Martin reemerged in 1974 to renew her journey creating radiant minimalist paintings. <br><br>"No. 7" (1974) is among the earliest paintings from this second major phase of her career. Intent upon emphasizing a dramatic reorientation emphasizing color rather than the line or tabulated grids of her pre-1967 work, a distanced viewing of the pale, luminescent bands allows for an expansive appreciation of subtle, radiant shifts between the color zones. Numerous natural phenomena and elements embedded in the New Mexican desert experience may have inspired these new and expansive ideas. The sheer verticality of its mesas, cliffs, and ravines, or the shafts of light that dramatically stream through gaps in clouds to the desert floor, may have inspired the vertical orientation here. Yet the impact of "No. 7" (1974) is most assuredly delivered via her devotion to Buddhist and Daoist ideals that seek beauty from within, not from extraneous points of reference. Martin asks the viewer to think of her repetitive shafts or bands of pale color as a sort of mantra as much as a visual experience. She challenges the capacity of our imagination, encouraging it to run free and consider this work as an object of contemplation, knowing well that her paintings require a degree of commitment. And as if to admonish those without the patience to absorb the impact of the otherworldly mystical radiance inherent in the paintings or how they affect one's greater awareness of the potential for expressing the sublime, we have her comment, "There's nobody who can't stand all afternoon in front of a waterfall."
ללא כותרת מס' 7 1974 72 x 72 אינץ' (182.88 x 182.88 ס"מ) אקריליק, עיפרון וג'סו על בד
מקור ומקור
גלריית פייס, ניו יורק
הלן וו. בנג'מין, ניו יורק
סותביס ניו יורק, 8 במאי 1996, פריט 50
אוסף פרטי, ארצות הברית
גלריית אייס, לוס אנג'לס
אוסף פרטי, נרכש מהנ"ל, מאי 1998
תערוכה
ניו יורק, גלריית פייס, אגנס מרטין: ציורים חדשים, 1975
ספרות
Beeren, WAL, Bloem, M. (1991), Agnes Martin: Paintings and Drawings 1974-1990, Stedelijk Museum. ע. 62 (בציור)
Bell, T., Agnes Martin Catalogue Raisonné : Paintings [Online], Cahier's d'Art Institute
גרין, י. (ספטמבר 1976), "... עוד...אגנס מרטין: 'הכל, כל דבר סובב סביב תחושה... תחושה והכרה'" ארטניוז, עמ' 91, מאויר בצבע
גולה, ק. (מאי - יוני 1975), "סקירת תערוכות: אגנס מרטין בפייס", אמנות באמריקה 63, עמ' 85, איורים בצבע
... פחות...
מבין הציירים המודרניסטים הרבים שהחדירו לגיאומטריה שלהם מימד רוחני, אגנס מרטין היא זו שציוריה מהדהדים בצורה העמוקה ביותר עם חיים של פשטות סגפנית. בשנת 1967, היא עזבה את ניו יורק ואת עולם האמנות, ויתרה על עיסוקים גשמיים, ויצאה למסע של שמונה עשר חודשים ברחבי הנוף הפראי של מערב אמריקה. זו הייתה הקדמה לחיים של בידוד, שם, על מסה נידחת ליד קובה, ניו מקסיקו, בנתה מרטין מקלט ביד, ועיצבה אדובי ועץ לבית מגורים ייחודי. היא חיה ללא הנוחות של טלפון, חשמל או אינסטלציה פנימית, ותרגלה את אמנות החיים, לא את חייה של ציירת. חיפוש רוחני ומוסרי מסור זה מפריד בין אגנס מרטין לבין חוזים גיאומטריים כמו פיט מונדריאן או אד ריינהרדט, שאיתם הייתה קשורה אחרת. לאחר הפסקה של שבע שנים, מרטין בת ה-62 חזרה בשנת 1974 כדי לחדש את מסעה ביצירת ציורים מינימליסטיים קורנים.

"מס' 7" (1974) הוא בין הציורים המוקדמים ביותר משלב שני מרכזי זה בקריירה שלה. מתוך כוונה להדגיש שינוי דרמטי של צבע במקום את הקווים או הרשתות הטבלאיות של עבודתה מלפני 1967, מבט מרחוק על הפסים החיוורים והזוהרים מאפשר הערכה נרחבת של שינויים עדינים וקורנים בין אזורי הצבע. תופעות טבע ואלמנטים רבים המוטמעים בחוויית המדבר של ניו מקסיקו עשויים להעניק השראה לרעיונות חדשים ומרחיבים אלה. האנכיות המוחלטת של המזות, הצוקים והנקודות שלה, או קרני האור הזורמות באופן דרמטי דרך פערים בעננים אל קרקעית המדבר, עשויים להעניק השראה לכיוון האנכי כאן. עם זאת, ההשפעה של "מס' 7" (1974) מועברת באופן ודאי ביותר דרך מסירותה לאידיאלים בודהיסטיים ודאואיסטיים המחפשים יופי מבפנים, ולא מנקודות התייחסות זרות. מרטין מבקשת מהצופה לחשוב על הקורות או הפסים החוזרים ונשנים שלה של צבע חיוור כמעין מנטרה, לא פחות מאשר חוויה חזותית. היא מאתגרת את יכולת הדמיון שלנו, מעודדת אותו להשתחרר ולראות את היצירה הזו כמושא להרהור, בידיעה טובה שציורה דורש מידה מסוימת של מחויבות. וכאילו כדי להזהיר את אלו שאין להם סבלנות לספוג את השפעת הזוהר המיסטי העל-טבעי הטמון בציורים או כיצד הם משפיעים על המודעות הגדולה יותר של האדם לפוטנציאל לבטא את הנשגב, יש לנו את הערתה, "אין אף אחד שלא יכול לעמוד כל אחר הצהריים מול מפל מים".
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