MARTIN WITTFOOTH   Martin Wittfooth  paints commanding portraits of majestic animals, gloriously detailed, true to life, so close you could reach out and touch them. Except their settings aren’t the natural National Geographic landscape you’d expect. There’s a rhinoceros resting near a submarine base. A huge  horned bull  perched on a steel beam high above a city. A polar bear in a field of poppies, with a helicopter nearby. The animals are stand-ins for humans, existing in a man-made environment with no actual humans still around, and suffering the consequences of man’s environmental manipulation. [4]  Behind the pleasing image of a perfectly executed portrait lurks destruction and waste,  disconnection and ruin.

MARTIN WITTFOOTH

Martin Wittfooth paints commanding portraits of majestic animals, gloriously detailed, true to life, so close you could reach out and touch them. Except their settings aren’t the natural National Geographic landscape you’d expect. There’s a rhinoceros resting near a submarine base. A huge horned bull perched on a steel beam high above a city. A polar bear in a field of poppies, with a helicopter nearby. The animals are stand-ins for humans, existing in a man-made environment with no actual humans still around, and suffering the consequences of man’s environmental manipulation.[4] Behind the pleasing image of a perfectly executed portrait lurks destruction and waste, disconnection and ruin.