Amidst Rock and Roll Ghosts
Thoughts on "Guitar Center" by Higinio Martinez
It was April of 2017. The warmth from the Albuquerque sun had faded, and a cold chill descended on the valley. I walked down Central boulevard to the entrance of Sister Bar, clutching my impractical, cropped leather jacket. The walls were black, with warm wood accents, semi-ironic satanic plaques, bright arcade games, and the faint smell of spilled beer. I had been here a few times – the vegan tacos were good, but I always felt out of place. I flashed my ID and shuffled past the bouncer; Adult Beverage was playing tonight, and I was on a mission.
Higinio Martinez (or Higgy as we called him then) and I had met the previous semester in my final year of college at UNM. He was a biochemistry major, and had decided to take a printmaking class. I felt drawn to him instantly – his presence and vocal cadence were calming, even when he expressed frustration over his work. He was sharp, but humble, and I couldn’t help but notice his jean jacket, wavy black hair, and penchant for silver jewelry. Try as I might to define it, I couldn’t; there was just something about him.
When I found out that he was in a band, I felt nervous. As an art snob, learning that your crush has a creative project is always reason to fret. If the music sucks, it sullies both fantasy and future potential. Considering this possibility, I traipsed to the bar and said a prayer to the rock and roll gods that I wouldn’t hate what I heard. Mutual friends said that his band was great, but it is hard to trust the friend of an artist. I ordered my usual – vodka, grapefruit juice and a salted rim – and took a seat at a table with the drummer’s then girlfriend. We chatted for a bit, but small talk is hard to keep up with when your eyes keep scanning the room for someone else.
When the band finally took to the stage, I slunk to the right side of the auditorium, and leaned against the wall a row or so back from the front. Lance Gordon, the artist behind the Mad Alchemy Liquid Light Show began the visuals as the band let out their first note. My anxiety faded quickly, as a dreamy indie-rock saturated my eardrums. Between the rippling colors and the frontman standing nearly 7 feet tall, the show was visually riveting, but it was Higgy’s demeanor that utterly transfixed me. Some guitarists offer up a nonchalant exterior, uninterested and stiff. Others are hyper-focused, rowdy, or excessively performative. Not Higgy. Fluid bands of reds and greens bubbled across his contorted face as Lance dripped small beads of ink across the projector. Higgy’s hand danced confidently across the fretboard, eyes rolled back in his head. The man I knew disappeared, and his body was completely and utterly possessed by the music.
It is April of 2023. Higinio Martinez just opened a solo painting exhibition at South Willard in Los Angeles, titled Guitar Center. In hip gallery fashion, the walls are a sparkling white, and the floors are an industrial concrete. Each wall hosts a collection of colorful, abstract paintings that seem to have their own gravitational pull. The paintings are accompanied by a soundtrack of groaning, slowed-down rock anthems, and a temporary living sculpture: a guitar completely covered in chia seedlings.
Each painting depicts an abstracted bust of a guitar, with an imperfect symmetry describing the head and tuning keys or the curves of the body. At 48” x 60” inches, each confrontational portrait becomes its own psychedelic icon in a pantheon of cosmic siblings. Within each body is a myriad of undulating shapes and circular patterns that conjure images of cells and decaying flesh alongside religious beads and mystic geometry. Higinio’s painting style is loose and textured – closer to “old gum on the bar floor” than to the flat, pop patterns delivered by Yayoi Kusama. Perhaps paradoxically, he maintains a decisive clarity of form without shying away from muddy gradients, sketchy outlines and gritty layers. Higinio’s approach piggybacks off of contemporary abstractions by Terry Winters and the energetic sculptures of Tony Cragg, yet there is a sense of timelessness to his exploration of organic patterns that harkens back to Kandinsky’s musical spiritualism or even the symbolic secrets of aboriginal dot paintings.
I sit and play a game of intergalactic Animal-Vegetable-Mineral with “Guitar Center | Cosmic Portrait Specimen | Dean Submerger”, recalling one of the first prints I saw Higinio make: an abstract copper etching of a Rorschach-esque blob, painstakingly filled with cross hatching. The two of us grinned in collective wonder as his marks became pronounced grooves in the acid bath, and that wonder floods back to me now in technicolor. Yet, Higinio’s use of color seems almost self aware in its traditionality. Each canvas is covered in rich mid tones with bold outlines; a rebellious New Mexican adolescence with tattoos and stage lights against a backdrop of stained glass windows, folk art and frescoes.
Higinio Martinez, “Guitar Center | Cosmic Portrait Specimen | Dean Submerger”, Oil on Canvas, 48 x 60 inches.
Despite the intricate patterning and vibrant palette, the paintings are far from overwhelming. Higinio manages to relay his grounding presence in both the paintings and atmosphere. Subverting my expectation of demonic occupation, the soundscapes in Guitar Center are surprisingly warm. A deep, grumbling distortion combines with otherworldly hissing and echoes of pinch harmonics to create an effect that walks a fine line between sublime hope and horror. It is eerie, but not unpleasant - like a noisecore rendition of a crystal bowl meditation.
And meditate I do, contemplating creation amidst rock and roll ghosts. It is here that it becomes clear - Guitar Center is an ode to creation, life, and even death (now that the chia has wilted.) For those like me who reject religion and scoff at spirituality, Art remains. And for the second time in six years, I let Higinio light the Palo Santo and take me to church.
