grasping at straws consists of 9 x 12-inch pieces of paper—new artworks, a black hollowed out television with paper accents—a gold Voyager spacecraft and black predator drones, titled PARDON OUR DUST: 21st CENTURY TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (Figure 1) from an earlier group exhibition, Voyager 3 (2024), and amorphous pink objects, in foam and on video, from a previous solo exhibition, i did it to myself (2023) (Figure 2). The new artworks are simple drawings with few words all recognizable through quick google searches—movie quotes, like why do my eyes hurt? (Figure 3), which includes the words, “Why do my eyes hurt? You’ve never used them before,” an interchange between the characters Neo and Morpheus, respectively, from 1999’s The Matrix accompanied by small drawings of AR-15 assault rifles (a preferred weapon of mass shooters). Another new artwork, MALE LONLINESS EPIDEMIC (Figure 4), includes the neologism, “MALE LONLINESS EPIDEMIC” (a recently diagnosed social “epidemic” defined by men having diminishing intimate relationships) coupled with a pixelated enemy from the video game Doom, released in 1993, all surrounded by a pink background and gold stars.

An earlier text-based artwork by Martinez, IM NOT (reverse) RACIST (2017) (Figure 5), a neon artwork composed of the words “SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE WHITE,” deftly shined a literal and figurative light on racist language perpetrated (often) by white people. Martinez did this through the manipulation of the exhausting phrase, “Some of my best friends are (insert tokenized minority here),” a statement put forward as evidence that the user could not be a bigot because of their relationships with said minority person.

Martinez’s new artworks are also prime examples of wordplay. But by appropriating unmodified phrases and terms, clear critiques, audiences, and intentions are muddied. For instance, referencing these The Matrix quotes becomes sticky considering “Red Pill/Blue Pill” terminology, inspired by the movie, largely adopted by toxic online forums to describe the acceptance of hard “truths” of society (often socially regressive in nature). Martinez’s chosen The Matrix quotes are also ambiguous given the recent admission by one of the film’s creators, Lilly Wachowski, that The Matrix was originally a metaphor for gender transition. Furthermore, these words stand on their own for anyone unaware of their birth or contemporary use, leaving the door open for a myriad of interpretations.

With the MALE LONLINESS EPIDEMIC the severity of the words “MALE LONLINESS EPIDEMIC” are heightened, given that the videogame Doom is primarily a single player game–a game you play alone. Here, has Martinez critiqued Doom, conferring guilt on a possible cause of the male loneliness epidemic? Is he slyly commenting on the worst symptoms of this supposed epidemic—mass shootings, done mostly at the hands of young white males, or could the connection between these elements carry less weight? One can only speculate on the ultimate intention of this artwork but given it’s bright pink background and shining gold stars, this image succeeds at shouting for and grabbing attention.

With this change in the use of language grasping at straws shows the viewer clever observations, insightful what ifs, and inside jokes, but the audience for the fullness of these dialogues may have shrunk down to one. grasping at straws shows an artist enjoying witticisms, poking fun at gender stereotypes through color, questioning the necessity of technical art making skills and “Classic” fine art mediums (even though Martinez holds a BFA and an MFA), and expressing anxiety at the nearly unchecked current state of technology. But by directly appropriating language instead of modifying it, Martinez has adeptly made a creative turn, sneakily making his message less clear to everyone but himself.

With grasping at straws, Martinez has used his finely honed skills and penchant for words in an act of play, carefully laying out small pieces of himself and his thoughts for us to see. He’s laid them out in a way that at first appears, with the frivolity of crayons, glitter, the color pink, and snappy movie quotes that we are getting more clarity than his earlier, more visually sparse text-based artworks, but with issues of intention, deeper substance, audience, and tone, we are granted much less access. And somehow, despite Martinez giving less of what might seem most important from his earlier bodies of work—the feeling of being an insider (a true strength of that artwork), I still enjoy, if differently, this new direction, because he has given me more room to intellectually move—applying my own knowledge, opinions, questions, and answers to his new presentation. Coming away from grasping at straws I feel like I’ve seen something of a self-portrait that I was fascinated by and will return to soon, even though I didn’t quite understand what I saw—even if I’m quite sure I won’t ever fully understand what is there, because of how much I enjoyed the looking and wondering at what was in front of me. I suppose that makes sense for a self-portrait by a conceptual artist—to put forward a body of work that is highly personal to him that seemingly and inexplicably succeeds at getting me to think about myself.

- Isabel Alexander Servantez III,

Independent Curator and Art Historian, M.A. Art History, School of the Art Institute of Chicago

grasping at straws was on display between July 12, 2025 and July 26, 2025 at INTERLOPER GALLERY, located at 1906 S. Flores St. Unit V, San Antonio, TX 78204

Special thanks to Mark Anthony Martinez for early access to his exhibition and speaking through early concepts of this review. Further thanks to Alana Jean Coates and Michael Martinez for acting as sounding boards for certain concepts in this review.

Subscribe now