Artist Martina Breit is exploring what it means to always be on display
Toronto artist explores vulnerability and privacy in the age of the perpetually online
Looking closely at Toronto artist Martina Breit's work, you'll notice a constant figure; herself. From simple drawings of Breit wincing at spoiled milk — which she accidentally consumed early that day — to painting large-scale self-portraits of her posing on a night out, Breit is constantly questioning through her work how much the world knows about her.
Because of her background in modelling and performance art — in addition to being a part of a hyper-digital, perpetually online generation — Breit's interested in exploring what it's like to always be on display, and to have your private life exposed to the public. Breit encapsulated this idea in her first solo exhibit, "Our House."
Held at Toronto's 100 Ossington event space in February of this year, the 23-year-old Toronto-based artist showcased 10 large-scale paintings and two large-scale sculptures. Using a variety of mixed media such as oil sticks and acrylic, Breit wants to start a conversation about bodies in art and the concept of 'self' and identity through the digital age. It comes from a longstanding interest in the way femmes are represented through art history.
"The body throughout history has been a major indicator of the socioeconomic climate in which the artist was existing within," she says. "As someone who paints femme bodies, women's bodies in art have always acted as a portrayal of ideals of beauty and cultural mirrors of the spaces they were made within."
Breit has been painting for over six years. In that time, she developed a style that's heavy on line-making, or fine-line drawing, and abstracting and deconstructing images. Breit brings the viewer into her private space, a concept she became interested in at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.
"My painting changed a lot," she says. "It became a lot of self-portraiture and exploring private versus public spaces. We all got close to sharing private space [over lockdowns], or at least we started sharing our private spaces on a public domain."
Through a series of self-portraits, Breit paints herself with a sense of vulnerability, much like she does when sharing her life through social media.
"The show was really drawing from my own private spaces and showing it publicly, that's why a lot of the faces look the way they do," she says.
Breit's sculptural work is done in a way that encourages audiences to interact with them. "Our House" is an ice fishing hut that Breit purchased, deconstructed, and rebuilt in the shape of a house, with a hair extension tied to it. She also showcased iconic markers of the digital age in 3D like "Fetlock," where she sculpted duck lips onto a mannequin using moulding clay, imitating her face in party selfies.
"I wanted to have a night where they could celebrate art and look at art in a way that's not intimidating, and not like the art is being put on a pedestal," she said. "The comfortability of touching the art and interacting with it, that was important to me."
Breit said that she could see people touching the face of the mannequin and going inside the structure. For her, it was exciting to see that people didn't feel intimidated to become a part of the art.
Finding spaces where artists can experiment and viewers can feel like they are part of the exhibit is increasingly tricky in Toronto. Breit mentioned that while people were streaming in, a few older artists had mentioned how the Ossington Ave. strip used to be packed with galleries, which are now difficult to come by.
"They came into the space and were immediately shocked, they said Ossington used to always be… studios, art spaces, and now we don't have space to create in the downtown core," she said.
Navigating a small and underfunded arts scene can be tricky, according to Breit, especially as a young artist challenging the conventional structure of the space. She says that early career artists like her face a triple whammy of a lack of studio space, a lack of space to show, and curators that are less willing to take a chance on young artists.
"We don't have space to create at all, but also space to show work… there aren't [a lot] of curators running spaces that allow for young people to take them through doing shows which I think is really important," she says. "How can people develop their own portfolio, or even their own taste and community when there's no space to do that?"