Art Study in San Francisco and Paris
It is hardly credible now after fifty years of wars, revolutions, and the minor annoyances brought about by the "Cold War"
that, in Paris, in nineteen hundred, the battle of the century was over art. On Marty's arrival Paris was in ferment. Helmholtz,
with his analysis of color in physiological optics, brought science into art producing Impressionism. Later a chance remark
of Cezanne's begot cubism, from which followed a number of fragmented theories that kept Paris in an uproar. However, Impressionism
was acceptable after much soul-searching and roaring about the disintegration of the time worn standards of art. However,
it was Cezanne - a cause célèbre - about whom whirled the revolt.
When Marty arrived, bands of students were still spitting on the windows of Vollard's inconspicuous gallery which displayed
his Cezanne's. Even some of the larger galleries, with temerity enough to face the furies, were exhibiting Van Gogh and Gaugin.
All this
― 65 ―
awakened echoes of the "new race" in Marty and he soon joined the small group that adopted the cause of the "Moderns", and
felt at home. To satisfy his foster mother, he dutifully spent a year in the Beaux-Arts under Gérome, then branched out into
Impressionism - but enriched and deepened by the lowered color scheme of the Spaniards. It was then he impressed Carriere,
who admired his work and assured him if he would stay in Paris he would become a figure there.
Even at the first big show of the "Moderns" at the Louvre, in 1910, one could hear uproarious laughter as soon as you stepped
into the building or, in corners, raucous voices in heated argument. As late as 1920, after World War I, when we were in Paris,
we were studying the canvasses in the modern room when two Frenchmen, deep in conversation, suddenly looked up, saw the modern
show, and spitting out affreux!, rushed out. And when Walter Pach brought the Armory the big modern show in New York, there was much uproar them. At the
1915 Fair in San Francisco, it created the same sensation and one could hear the laughter float down the corridors.
Marty soon became a popular figure in the Latin Quarter - not only for his many talents and ability to entertain them - but
he was the possessor of the fabulous sum of $100 a month which, with the low rate of the franc made him, to them, inordinately
rich. So they called him "Duke". Most of his friends, students living on a pittance, could count on him to provide them with
wine, cigarettes and tickets to the local dance halls. However, he himself spent much time at concerts, museums, galleries,
and many official affairs (through
― 66 ―
the good offices of his foster mother) given at the Mexican Embassy. He loved the operas, especially
Bohéme, Carmen, and he added several arias sung with real feeling and élan to his collection. He soon learned all the revolutionary French
songs and bellowed them with gestures and an ardor that was contagious and made his feminine audience shudder.
While Marty was in Paris the famous Dreyfus trial came up. Marty went to the trial and made sketches of all the figures in
the trial and, especially, of Zola, who, for Dreyfus wrote the famous J'Accuse that brought about the retrial.
He was fortunate to be in Paris in a very picturesque period. Cezanne, Van Gogh and Gaugin were then spectacular figures and
he saw their work constantly in Paris. He also saw Huysmans, "the man of the cathedrals", as they called him, riding around
Paris on a donkey in a white monk's robe. His books headed the revival of the Gregorian Chant and the lovely polyphonic music
of Palestrina and Vittoria, which was the musical sensation in Europe. Whistler was there and he stopped once when Marty was
copying a Velasquez picture in the Louvre and said, "You have great talent, young man," and then walked off. He was very proud
of the fact that the old poet Paul Verlaine used to love to be with the art students in bistros - small cafés where students
congregated. Marty said, "Several times I had the privilege of buying drinks for the famous poet Verlaine." Though feeble,
he sometimes recited his poetry for them, and once, losing his voice, asked Marty to continue the poem - to his surprise and
pleasure - Marty knew the poem by heart and rendered it with all the
― 67 ―
feeling a rich voice could muster and that so impressed the old man that he embraced him.
Baum
Did he like to tell you about his time in Paris?
Martinez
Oh, he loved to. He loved to reminisce about the Paris days. Paris was very lovable then. He heard the first performance of
Charpentier's Louise, and Carmen, La Bohéme swept Paris madly. To him it was the masterpiece which meant so much to the students. He added these to his repertoire of
Spanish and Mexican folk songs. It was one of his talents with which he used to entertain his friends in Paris and San Francisco.
His foster mother died shortly after he finished the Beaux-Arts and had left a small legacy to keep him going until he reached
the top she dreamed of that the talent promised. So Marty decided to remain in Paris for the four years left. Later, he regretted
that he had not returned to Mexico when Rivera, who had left Paris, became a figure in Mexico, and thereafter in Europe—the
representative of the "new race". It was significant he considered returning to Mexico, then would go back to San Francisco
to decide the issue. His foster father thought he could help a bit around the consulate with enough to keep him going while
getting reestablished in San Francisco.
Baum
While we're mentioning Marty's foster father, Alexander Coney, I know he and his wife were both ardent Masons. What were Marty's
ideas on Masonry? You mentioned that first Marty's father had done printing for the Church —
Martinez
Yes, and then he became a Mason and they dropped him.
― 68 ―
Baum
What were Marty's ideas?
Martinez
I was often with him with Coney, who was a 32nd Degree Mason. Marty never joined the Masons. He was only interested in art.
Marty was never connected with Masonic affairs but he had ceased practicing his faith and became an agnostic.
Baum
I interrupted your story of Marty's return to San Francisco.
Martinez
In Paris he had met — oh, this is very important! It was while attending the Dreyfus trial, in which the university and art
students took such a noisy part, that he attracted the attention of Steinlen conceded the greatest cartoonist in Europe and
featured in the celebrated "Lassiette au Beurre". He paused to look over Marty's quick sketches of Zola and the court scenes
and praised them highly. Then on Marty's telling him that he was soon returning to San Francisco, Steinlein assured him were
he willing to stay in Paris, he could reach satisfying heights in that field. But Marty had neither the temperament nor the
willingness to struggle for fame. His Indian blood cancelled out his Spanish and Moorish blood and his cautious Scotch blood
added a negative reaction to struggle. So he returned to San Francisco with a vague notion of returning to Mexico where his
old friend and fellow student, Dr. Atl, assured him that the rising of the "new race" soon would have standard bearers in
Rivera and Orozco in the interests of prestige.
San Francisco, in which he had spent several years as a student, was already familiar and he found here again the environment
he loved. The warm and vivid life reminded him of the Latin Quarter in Paris —
― 69 ―
the Italian quarter with its picturesque restaurants and markets — back of it the intriguing Chinatown with its touch of the
exotic and mysterious Orient. The Chinese still in native costume; the strange sound of their quick-gaited walk; the sibilant
tones, almost a hissing sound, in their speech and their gaiety when celebrating Chinese New Year, with the streets lined
with trays of potted flowering plants—lilies grown in their cellars for the great event, colored banners strung across the
balconies on the main street; and the gilded Buddhist temple from which issued soft gongs. The brilliantly colored displays
in the Oriental bazaar, the clang and crash of cymbals and the high pitched voices of the singers at banquets and the tea
rooms with their high tables and matted benches of teakwood and the bewitching assortment of sweets and delicious tea in colorful
bowls.
Just beyond stretched the picturesque dance halls of the Barbary Coast, with its rowdy and raucous life that he loved to sketch.
Then San Francisco itself still had the flavor of the pioneer days — he found congenial their strong individualism, the crudeness
muted by a growing cosmopolitanism of the second generation, who applauded colorful personalities and made much of them. Marty's
picturesqueness appealed to them and he was soon a popular figure in the Bohemian Club and in the art circles in San Francisco.
His only concession to convantion was for official and social affairs — he wore a suit, but along with a bright red Windsor
tie. On his return to San Francisco, with his superb baritone voice, he added French revolutionary songs to his Mexican folk
songs and arias from Boheme and Pagliacci, rendered
― 70 ―
with such real feeling and dramatic gestures his poignant renditions were in great demand.
Then, his studio in the Montgomery block formerly occupied by Jules Tavenier, was in the Latin Quarter and reminded him of
Paris. Around the corner in a basement was Champro's a tiny coffee house Parisian style and a block away Coppa's Italian restaurant.
So he felt at home and settled down to become a popular figure in San Francisco and he loved it.