May/June 2003 Issue#44
Written by Janice S. Gore
Earthly Powers: The Education of Daniel Martin Diaz

Visionary artist Daniel Martin Diaz has been painting seriously for a mere six years, but he has already made a name for himself. He exhibited, in January 2001, was with Joel Peter Witkin. Shortly thereafter he was commissioned to paint two eight-foot panels to flank the altar in Mexico’s San Antonio de Padua Church, which opened in June 2002. He had a solo show in May 2002 at La Luz de Jesus Gallery in Los Angeles. The following August, he was awarded the Old Masters New Vision scholarship and went to Austria for a three-week seminar on the ancient technique of egg tempera and resin oil painting. This list of credits is even more remarkable because the seminar marks Diaz’s first formal art training; he is completely self-taught.

Born and raised in Tucson, Arizona, Diaz grew up in a traditional Mexican Catholic family, immersed in the passionate imagery of his religion. He loved New Testament stories and the surreal visions they conjure; in the local 19th century mission, he was moved by the crude, darkened old Mexican religious paintings, a hybrid of European and vernacular Mexican art. In the early 1990s Diaz worked as a finisher, distressing and aging imported Mexican furniture, including frames and retablos. In his present work for a large home products retailer, he often builds elaborate wooden displays. He studied music composition in college and has been composing and recording music for years. Music finally led Diaz into visual art. During downtime at recording sessions, he started sketching and painting, looking at art books, going to exhibitions, developing a painting technique.

As his skill developed, all Diaz’s life experiences found expression in his paintings. His haunting depictions of angels, martyrs and saints, layered with Latin inscriptions, letterforms, and mystical symbols, are informed by the rich image vocabulary of his religion. Deploying his woodworking skills, he distresses wooden panels and builds distinctive frames, architectural, incised and weathered, as an integral part of each finished piece. He applies paint as he composes music, patiently, layer by layer. His palette, earth tones with touches of intense color, is inspired by his southwest desert home.

When Diaz showed him a few paintings, prominent Tucson gallerist Terry Etherton gave him a show with Joel Peter Witkin. Diaz’s glowing, resonant images of fragmented bodies paired well with Witkin’s photographs, and the show, attracted attention. The Mexican church commission soon followed. When visionary artist Philip Rubinov-Jacobson saw his work, he recognized that Diaz had taught himself a technique remarkably similar to that employed by old masters like Jan van Eyck and Hiëronymus Bosch, and invited him to his Austrian seminar to learn the ancient tradition.

Shortly before Diaz left for Austria, we talked about his life and work thus far. The conversation turned to the Santeros, the traditional Mexican vernacular artists who painted retablos and other devotional objects.

Your work has much in common with the tradition and art of the Santeros.
I admire the simplicity, the crudeness of their work; it’s so fresh and raw. I love their use of text: it has both meaning and an aesthetic beauty. The Santeros would tell a story of what ever was happing around them. They were capturing time.

There’s also a medieval feel to your paintings.
I especially like Giotto’s era, because that was when they were figuring out depth. I like the flatness of their pieces; they were trying to create perspective, but they really didn’t understand it. They created these weird juxtapositions that can’t exist. I try to keep that naïve perspective in my stuff.

How do you make a painting, from initial drawing to finished piece?
After I have completed my drawing, I prepare the wood with gesso. When the gesso is dry I distress the wood with nails, branches, or any other sharp instruments that happen to be lying around. At this point I may carve something into the wood, like a Latin word, a mystical symbol, or a religious impression. The next step is the background: burnt sienna, yellow ochre, some touches of crimson or sap green to illuminate the landscape. Getting the proper light source can be tricky. I may work the background for days until it is ready to be painted on. Only then do I transfer the drawing to the background. I use very thin layers of paint that must be thoroughly dry before the next layer can be added. One of the last steps is the shading process, to impart an aged look, like those old paintings darkened by candle soot and incense in cathedrals.

Do you design the frame as part of the piece from the beginning?
I usually finish a series of paintings, then start getting the frame concept. I get really obsessed, researching frames throughout history, looking not just at frames, but at the way buildings were designed, the way architects designed an entrance or a façade.

So far, all your paintings and prints have been based on religious subject matter.
For me, what else is there? I’ve tried to do other things, and I just can’t. It always comes back to the Virgin Mary and Christ, stories of the bible. It’s so simple, and the message is so powerful. I feel like now, painting religious art is the alternative.

You were commissioned to do a piece for San Antonio de Padua church in San Carlos, Mexico. What was the project?
San Antonio de Padua Church was built by Susana Davila, a chef and restaurateur in Tucson. She discovered that the impoverished people in San Carlos were not welcome in the town church, so she built them a new one. Susana commissioned me to create two eight-foot-tall paintings for either side of the altar. She told me they wanted angels, so I did Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel. During the opening celebration, the paintings were blessed by the Bishop of Obregón and Padre Nacho of Guaymas, Sonora.When he returned from Austria, Diaz sent me a copy of his report to the scholarship committee. One passage in particular stands out: “The technique I learned will give my pieces longevity, because it allows paintings to last for hundreds of years. It gives my paintings a beautiful stained-glass glow and a natural, organic quality. For me, this was a life-changing experience.”

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