Shapeshifter

“Initially, I found myself intrigued [by Martin’s work] but uncertain about what I was seeing,” says Josh Aibel, director of Moderne Gallery, which specializes in the work of George Nakashima, Wharton Esherick, and other masters of the craft. “After spending some time studying his pieces, my imagination began to unfold. This level of thought and engagement not only captivated me but also fostered a genuine enjoyment of his work.”

Aibel, who runs Moderne along with his father, Robert Aibel, added Martin’s name to their illustrious roster about a year ago and began taking his pieces on the road to design fairs.

Before he knew it, Martin found himself carving without pause at his Philadelphia studio, making new furniture to be exhibited at the fairs, creating objects commissioned by interior designers, and adding to the assortment of vessels he sells through LES Collection, a Brooklyn-based concept shop focused on decor and art. Among his items in LES Collection’s catalog are a walnut vessel that looks like an oversized, hard-edged acorn, and a vessel with a long neck and an egg-shaped bulb at the top, textured with the artist’s signature chiseled grooves.

Martin makes no attempt to categorize his creations, which he’ll sometimes refer to as “creatures” (his wife, Cate, affectionately calls them “blubs”). “I enjoy things that are whimsical in a sort of dark way, like a mystical object you might find in the woods that holds some kind of power,” he says. “I’m inspired by shapes I see in nature but I also try to inject my own thinking.”

A Meticulous Process

Martin works with maple and walnut, starting with two-inch-thick kiln-dried slabs that he glues together to make a solid block. He then begins to shape each block with either a handheld electric chain saw or a static band saw, followed by an angle grinder. One can see him on his Instagram Reels, wearing a mask and headphones, enveloped in dust as he saws out bit after bit of wood. The next step is usually sanding, a process he’s not a big fan of (he tends to stay away from perfectly smooth surfaces) but often can’t skip. Once he’s satisfied with the overall contours, he begins to add texture using various hand tools, including chisels, knives, and gouges of all sizes. This is a more meditative process that can take long hours, given that most of Martin’s works have either an intricately striated or pockmarked surface, each minute dent made with a stroke of the hand.

“The meticulous effort he invests in his process is rare in today’s fast-paced world, where the focus often leans toward speed,” says Josh Aibel. “His dedication to the finished piece truly sets him apart.” In some ways, Martin’s pieces call to mind the textures used by John Eric Byers, whose brutalist wooden furniture looks like it’s made of hammered steel, and by Casey Johnson, who often adds chiseled sections to his otherwise smooth geometric works. And yet Martin’s silhouettes are unique, their free forms imbued with a zoetic quality, an aliveness.

Working with organic shapes doesn’t make the process any easier. “It was incredibly challenging to incorporate the drawer and narrow legs,” says Martin of the aforementioned side table, the one that looks like a beehive. “As I was stacking up the two-inch blocks, the void for the drawer had to be there from the beginning.” He has made at least two other tables with drawers, these with three pudgy, tapered legs resembling the bottom half of a sheep with overgrown fleece. Before he glues the wood layers to create a solid piece, he has to pre-cut a basic profile. He says the work turns out better if he first thinks it through from beginning to end.

Martin will admit the job is hard on the body, and adds that the last several months have taken a toll. He’s very grateful to Moderne Gallery for having allowed him to take some time off to experiment and create new pieces.

Now that he’s had a couple of weeks to rest and consider what may lie ahead, Martin says that creative autonomy is one of his main goals. He wants to inch closer to the world of sculpture rather than object making. Yet furniture still calls to him; he gets a thrill when he sees the work of people like JB Blunk or Wendell Castle. While he’s keeping an open mind, there’s one thing he knows will not change anytime soon: carving wood. “I can’t imagine working with another material,” he says. “It’s a part of my history.”

Paola Singer, a freelance writer in New York, is a frequent contributor to American Craft.