Martin Poole, Moon VII , West End Gallery
I never like writing about the death of a friend. It’s hard to express the complicated nature and meaning of friendship especially when the shock of their death is close at hand. It seems like words never say enough and often fail to capture the whole of the person. And with a friend with so many facets of being, it seems even more insufficient.
I learned yesterday afternoon of the death of the painter and longtime friend Marty Poole. He passed away this past weekend from a cardiac event at his home outside of Asheville, NC.
I have known Marty for thirty years now. In fact, my introduction to the West End Gallery came as the result of buying a small Marty Poole painting the year before I began showing my own work there.
Marty was one of the stalwarts of the West End Gallery, having shown his work there for over 45 years. His work was always luminous, as though lit from within. You could see it in his broad, ethereal landscapes and especially in his mood-filled figurative work. I
I could go on and on about his painting. It was always special work, and both his talent and eye were remarkable. World class. But it was his mind that differentiated him from many artists. He had a wide and deep knowledge of painters and other artists that fed an analytical mind, allowing him to discuss in great detail almost any painting you might put before him.
And it didn’t stop with art. He could speak easily on a wide range of subjects, often delving deep into the esoteric aspects of philosophy and psychology. A simple comment could lead to a fascinating discussion
His mind along with his humility and kindness are the things I will miss about Marty. He was a friend and teacher to many artists in this area.
It’s hard to believe that Marty is gone, that there will be no more Marty Poole paintings being gifted to us in the future or any more great conversations with him. The world lost a great one.
Marty was, along with his great friend and painter Tom Gardner, were my first real artist friends when I began showing at the West End. They both accepted and embraced me as a fellow artist even when I was still a fledgling painter. Their generosity of spirit meant the world to me then and without it, I don’t know that I would have followed the same path as the one I am following. I am forever in his debt.
As I said above, this is woefully insufficient in capturing the man, his talent, his warmth, or his legacy. It’s a hard task when the shock is still at hand.
Goodbye, Marty. Thank you for what you gave this world.
Good travels to you, my friend…
Redtree Times 