IN CONVERSATION WITH MARTINE GUTIERREZ

interview and words by MAREK BARTEK

“We don’t do journalism like this anymore. We don’t actually spend time with the people we interview. We don’t have the time to let them open up to us, so we don’t really get to know them… I’ve never done it the ‘old way’ but I kind of miss it,” I tell Martine as we sit on a bench outside of Huis Marseille in sizzling thirty six degrees. 

It’s Friday. We have just finished the shoot, and are now engaging in some light people-watching as the boats pass by on the canal. She lights a cigarette. 

all looks MARTINE’s own

So how do you feel about the exhibition? 

Is this off the record? 

Sure! 

God, I’m so tired… I’ve been working on this for so long, I can’t believe I'll have free time again. Still, even now decisions have to be made but after the opening, no matter how it goes, I will be done. Honestly, Nanda and the team here are so fabulous, they all worked so hard to accommodate me as much as they could. I couldn’t have done it without them.

It must feel pretty amazing to have a solo exhibition! Do you feel like you’ve made it? 

I don’t really think about it like that. It’s just a thing that happens and then we all move on. I’m not a person to acknowledge my accomplishments, which isn’t the best — I know. I should work on that.

Same… but I think it’s important that we do! It’s good to sit with yourself from time to time and really realise how far we’ve come. 

I just have to do it, I make work and the opportunities come or they don’t, you know? I’m so happy with the exhibition at Huis Marsille, but I don’t know how this became my life. It’s a series of moments over time.

I recently read somewhere that the universe doesn’t really reward good or bad people. It always rewards those who have the audacity to work on themselves and ask for what they want. I think we should just ask more often for things we really want!

OMG, I love that word! Audacity. People always use the word “entitlement,” which has such a negative connotation to it, while you’re right. We could all be more daring with the time that we have. I will be more audacious tomorrow, promise! 

Fuck, Amsterdam is so pretty. 

How’s the situation in the US for you?

Oh, it’s rough! But we need to be audacious and reinvent how things work. Push the needle. I think I’m extremely lucky to live in a place like New York City.

Do the nudes featured in the exhibition ever feel like an act of rebellion?

They feel like a liberation. I’m trying to aspire to be myself — and seeing my full nude self-portrait printed in the newspaper helps — or at least offers a surreal perspective. I couldn’t believe my picture was published without being censored. That would never happen in the States without causing an uproar, or accompanied by a headline all about my body. Amsterdam is really in the future when it comes to identity politics. Dutch people are ungagable. 

What’s dating in New York like?

I try to be very intentional about who I spend free time with these days. I need to connect with someone in order to be attracted to them. 

I’ve come to find out that as a mermaid, I’m often chased as an experience, treated like a fantasy,  but men don't know what to do if they catch me — most have never been with a mermaid before. 

We sit there a moment longer. She puts out the cigarette and we say our goodbyes, at least till the next day. 

Saturday afternoon, I’m back. I walk inside the Huis Marseille. The atmosphere of anticipation lingers in the air, it’s different than yesterday. Today, everything is perfectly put together, everything looks exactly the way it should. Funny how museums have this strange ability to erase every trace of the work that went into becoming a museum.

Every room feels like stepping into a different corner of Martine’s brain. One moment you’re looking at self-portraits that somehow exist without her being physically present, while listening to Gwen Stefani’s Serious, the next you’re surrounded by centuries-old paintings covered in doodles. A collection called Mother of Dolls hangs in several rooms, and in the attic there’s a movie Martine made as a kid, together with her childhood sketchbooks. Her obsession with mermaids is unmissable. I couldn’t help but wonder how many childhood fascinations survive adulthood? In Martine’s case, I’d say almost all of them. I walk past a Prince, dressed in a periodic blue costume. Bizarre, sure, but we’ve all seen stranger things. Our eyes meet for a second and then we each go our own way.

Eventually, we all take our seats for the official opening of the exhibition. The Prince arrives too, followed by none other than Princess Martine herself, also dressed in period costume. Nanda van den Berg, director of Huis Marseille, delivers a moving speech about discovering Martine’s work and how the project gradually came to life. What we see in Huis Marseille today is the result of four years of collaboration between the artist and the museum.

You can tell public speaking isn’t Martine’s favourite medium. Her speech is short, entertaining and, most importantly, heartfelt. Her mum, on the other hand, has all the anecdotes up her sleeve. But beyond them lies a simple truth: here is a mother standing in front of us who recognised her child for who she was, nurtured the artist in her, and saved every childhood sketchbook that would one day find its place on the museum walls – and now, she’s encouraging other parents to do the same.

How are you feeling? 

So relieved, I feel like I got my legs! How does my makeup look? I have four layers on, and now they’ve all been cried off.

You look as beautiful as ever! I love the dress! 

Really? It’s not too.. Marie Antoinette? It was out on the table yesterday as a styling option and you said you hated it.

You already know me well enough. I would never say such a thing about a dress like this!

I know. I was shooting a video with my friends in the Red Room this morning. You have to meet them! Have you seen the exhibition today?

I haven't finished yet, but I started, and I’m reading through everything and a funny thing. Yesterday, I watched The Mask, very spontaneously, and now I saw that one of your works — Chick Chicky Boom — was inspired by that film! 

I never read in museums — I come to see the pictures. 

I love how you’re doing against the stream, a lot of artists try not to be pop. Why do you love pop culture so much? 

Best not be aware of what other people are doing. Looking through all of this work, I realised these were my very first references. I’ve been making the same thing.. forever.

Watching your mum speak… I couldn’t stop thinking that none of this happens without somebody believing in a child before anyone else does.

This exhibition is a tribute to my mum. She gave me a beautiful childhood. I want other people to have that. I’m so lucky to have grown up with her love. She taught me that our differences are what make us beautiful. 

Mum believed I was a wunderkind, even when I didn’t.  Wunderkind is the idea of potential, an act of celebrating the inner child, and granting yourself the permission to be.. you!

In that sense, aren't you a wunderkind?

I don't believe in labels — I believe in magic.

So progressive. What’s magic to you?

The only real magic is the things we’ll do for the ones we love.  

We’re pleasantly interrupted by Sam Wilkes, a friend of Martine, whom I met when he dropped by to see the shoot the day before. Sam is a screenwriter, who’s most recent collaboration Club Kid with friend Jordan Fistman headlined at Cannes Film Festival. If there ever was a person who looks like they belong on a movie set, it’s Sam. He’s got curly hair, a big smile and always wears a cap. He’s chatty, curious and could make anyone laugh. Martine soon pulls another friend into the conversation – Lucas Habte. Tall, dark and impossible to miss, he’s a documentary filmmaker who had spent the afternoon filming Martine and the mystery Prince Charming roaming through the museum in their period costumes, just before the exhibition opened.

Martine’s mum passes by and I can’t help but say hello and exchange a few words. It’s impossible not to see traces of her throughout the exhibition. In many ways, more than just a portrait of Martine, it’s also a portrait of the woman who believed in her long before anyone else did.

A few moments later, another familiar face joins us. I’d noticed him earlier, elegantly sauntering through the museum in a period costume, and wondered whether it could actually be Blake Abbie, editor-in-chief of A Magazine Curated By. It was.

New Yorkers have this amazing ability to bring New York with them wherever they go. For a second, Amsterdam feels suspiciously like Manhattan. Suddenly, even the most unlikely things seem possible, and I find myself living out a very Carrie Bradshaw afternoon.

We start talking, and before I know it, Blake and I are walking through the museum together. How many times do you get the chance to see an exhibition with Prince Charming? We wander through the museum, talking about fashion and the funny chain of coincidences that somehow brought us to the same place that afternoon. Downstairs, a giant heart-shaped pouffe sits in front of a video featuring an original song by Martine. “Did you know Hedi Slimane used her song for one of his runway shows?” he says. “She’s going to become a pop star.”

Eventually, the museum gives way to the garden, where conversations continue over glasses of wine. Somewhere between returning my wine glass, saying goodbye to a few familiar faces, we lose one another. It isn’t until later that I realise we’d both been looking for each other. Somehow, we managed to leave the same place without ever saying goodbye.

After the procession of opening speeches, cocktails, appetizers, and dinner, Martine wrangles the boys for a night on the town. A freak lightning storm scares the museum party indoors but Martine is determined to go out dancing. Will Prince Charming be there, I wonder? The rain won’t stop me from finding out. 

We find ourselves on the dance floor of a converted warehouse none of us have ever been before. Suspected of concealing a weapon, Sam almost isn’t let in. Luckily, Lucas plays it cool, de-escalating the situation, and we all get in. Still no sign of Blake. I throw my inhibitions to the wind and surrender to the DJ. Playing the matchmaker, Martine tries to see who could be of interest to me. She, at this point, is swarmed by eligible bachelors – none of whom are able to hold her attention. Together we break the dawn, and in the twilight of the morning it seems everything I’d seen on Sex and The City is true. But it was not Carrie Bradshaw, or Samantha Jones who had ventured into uncharted territory, it was me — I was on my Wunderkind. Turns out, all I really needed was a Little Mermaid to show me a girls’ night out, and remind me who I can be. 

Sunday afternoon, sitting opposite Martine at Bar Mini — sunglasses on and cigarette in hand, we debriefed the events of the opening the day before.

I really loved meeting your friends yesterday! You can really tell how much they love you when they travelled all this way just to be here with you for the opening. 

My friends amaze me. They are my mirrors, my right hand arm, my silly rabbit.. They are the people I trust to tell me the truth. My friends are such an important part of my life, we make each other’s dreams come true. I’m so grateful they came for this — it  makes it all feel real.

OMG, you have a mermaid tattoo! 

Yes, I do! We were clearly meant to do this together. Where does your fascination with mermaids come from?

The Little Mermaid came out the same year I was born, and Ariel has been with me ever since. Later I read Hans Christian Andersen’s original story and it completely broke my heart. It’s a literal tragedy. She sacrifices everything for legs just to be rejected by the man she loves.  

I think queer people have always recognised themselves in the allegory of the mermaid. The mermaid exists somewhere in between, in a third space. 

Yesterday you told me the exhibition made you feel like you finally got your legs.

It’s all confidence. Whether you’re ready or not, there comes a time to stand on your own. Nobody is ever really ready, but that just means there’s nothing to wait for. That’s what this exhibition feels like, like I'm done waiting. Even though so much is an archive from the past, it feels like I'm leaping into the present moment. 

I might come back to Amsterdam in September. If I do, I’d love to bring something new to the exhibition, we’ll see what happens. Maybe Wunderkind will show me what it wants, once I have a little perspective.

It’s like slowly building your own dollhouse! 

That’s exactly what it felt like building the exhibition! I love that the museum feels like both a home and a palace. Every staircase turns a corner into a new type of room. While we were planning the exhibition, I already knew where certain works belonged. Seeing the space in person really shaped the new photographs I made. It felt like I was playing in a dollhouse, deciding how best to be a story teller.

Also the craziest thing happened! I was outside of Huis Marseille this morning with Mum, and this random guy on a bike stopped to say he loved the opening yesterday.

Amsterdam is very like that! You always run into people. 

It completely caught me off guard. It has never happened in New York. There you have anonymity, people go out of their way not to talk to each other. There’s something really special about Amsterdam. It’s inviting. I wasn’t expecting such a warm reception as an outsider, it made me realise how embraced I’ve felt here. 

Still, I miss home — I love New York, and my little life there. I trust Huis Marseille to take care of my doll house, and I can disappear back into the waves. I need to. It lets me return to making things without thinking too much about what comes next.

Funny because Blake mentioned to me yesterday you’d ultimately love to be a pop star. 

Making music is really just a hobby. The only people who ever get to hear it are my friends when we’re on road trips. But you know, never say never! We’re young, we’re hot, we’re audacious..

That’s not what the quote in the museum says.

Maybe it should!

TEAM CREDITS:

talent MARTINE GUTIERREZ
photography GIJS VAN DE VEERDONK
photography assistant NAOMIE LAAN
production and interview MAREK BARTEK
special thanks to HUIS MARSEILLE