{"id":24976,"date":"2025-07-21T01:14:26","date_gmt":"2025-07-21T01:14:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/24976\/"},"modified":"2025-07-21T01:14:26","modified_gmt":"2025-07-21T01:14:26","slug":"incline-gallerys-new-show-remixes-san-franciscos-old-soul","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/24976\/","title":{"rendered":"Incline Gallery\u2019s new show remixes San Francisco\u2019s old soul"},"content":{"rendered":"

From the Mission to the Tenderloin to Daly City, Max Marttila<\/a> portrays San Francisco\u2019s urban rituals in street murals that engage actively with the community. <\/p>\n

At his new Incline Gallery show, \u201cPlaces to Rest,\u201d running from July 11 to Aug. 10, he breaks apart that city spirit and blends it with his own.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The exhibit is a playful blend of city nostalgia and personal vulnerability. In one painting, a reinterpreted Lou Seal slings his Giants baseball bat back and beckons Pier 39 tourists in for a good beating. Marttila\u2019s small-scale work differs vastly from his epic murals lining city streets, but the 36-year-old San Francisco native can do both.\u00a0<\/p>\n

If you\u2019ve moved through the city, you\u2019ve likely seen Martilla\u2019s work. He began painting as a teenager, and he\u2019s worked on dozens of murals since. A number have been with Precita Eyes<\/a>, the longstanding<\/a> Mission District-based collective, and the majority of his works are still collaborations with muralist friends.<\/p>\n

On a four-block walk to his solo show from 16th and Mission<\/a> streets, Marttila and this reporter passed three murals of his: One on the corner of 17th and Mission streets, made with Eli Lippert<\/a>; another recently completed work on 18th and Mission streets, made with Diego Irizarry<\/a> and Drew Valencia<\/a> that centers a sitting Ohlone woman; and Marttila\u2019s favorite,\u00a0a collaboration<\/a> with his friend George Crampton Glassanos<\/a> on the corner of 18th and Valencia streets, with Doggie Diner, Whiz Burger, an interpretation of Mickey Mouse\u2019s antithesis \u201cRat Fink,\u201d and a scene from \u201cVertigo.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"AA mural by Diego Irizarry, Drew Valencia, and Max Marttila, at 18th and Mission streets. Photo from Precita Eyes.<\/p>\n

\"AMax Marttila stands in front of a mural he co-designed at 18th and Valencia Streets, on July 10, 2025. Photo by Frankie Solinsky Duryea.<\/p>\n

Marttila\u2019s new show is housed just half a block away from that sprawling mural, at Incline Gallery<\/a>, an independent gallery<\/a> that\u2019s hidden down a quiet alleyway at 766 Valencia St.\u00a0<\/p>\n

In many ways, Incline Gallery complements Marttila\u2019s work. He said that he\u2019s had many friends and family die in the last year. Incline, which was founded by Christo Oropeza and Brian Perrin in 2011, was formerly a mortuary<\/a>. Drawing from familial loss and the space\u2019s funereal history, Marttila found the show\u2019s name: \u201cPlaces to Rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oropeza, who now runs the gallery, said that Incline is \u201cthe Mission\u2019s Guggenheim,\u201d where everyone comes together to find an old San Francisco \u2014 one that\u2019s not based in nostalgia but instead in a common visual vocabulary. The show and space pulse with city spirit.<\/p>\n

Marttila revels in the ability to work publicly, incorporating the feedback of community members at all stages of the artistic process. <\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of power in muralism,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re basically given the responsibility to control the visual landscape.\u201d<\/p>\n

During the wave of Mission gentrification in the 2000s, having that agency over the urban imagery of the neighborhood was particularly important. Most of his murals dealt with this explicitly, giving representation to the Mission\u2019s historically diverse community. All murals should be political, he said.<\/p>\n

Entering Incline, the first work that greets gallery-goers is what Marttila calls a \u201cresidual painting.\u201d It began as a canvas used to test paint colors for larger projects, he said. <\/p>\n

But, liking how it turned out, he began painting smaller, personally significant images onto it. The result is a background of rough modernist strokes covered in nerdish references.<\/p>\n

\"AbstractThe first painting of Incline Gallery\u2019s \u201cPlaces to Rest.\u201d Photo by Max Marttila.<\/p>\n

The paintings that make up Marttila\u2019s show continually evoke that juxtaposition of times and feelings. Many feel like new takes on pop art, with \u201cEvangelion\u201d<\/a> robot meccas replacing Campbell\u2019s Soup. <\/p>\n

Others take recognizable images, like olive branches, a symbol of Palestinian resistance, and twist their sections into Rubik\u2019s-cube-like reconfigurations. Some draw from street art, taking San Francisco symbols and making them deeply cartoonish.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The result is a show made from \u201cGundam<\/a>,\u201d infographics, and Muni transfer tickets. The canvas of one painting, set in the middle of the show, is hand-crafted from shredded winning lottery tickets.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Marttila\u2019s murals often incorporate urban folklore into the changing landscape. His painting is more intimate, though at times more surface-level; the canvases are personal, yet sometimes he seems hesitant to say something serious without an audience. <\/p>\n

He admits that he doesn\u2019t know why washing machines figure so large throughout his paintings. They just do.<\/p>\n

His brush strokes range from sharp and comicbook-like to soft and modernist. His work is the muralists\u2019 collaborative practice collapsed into a personal, fandom-heavy and referential space.<\/p>\n

The centerpiece, which Oropeza called \u201cthe blue note\u201d of the show, is a skull made from segmented aerial scenes from different neighborhoods across the Bay. The melodramatic climax is both a reflection on the people that Marttila has lost and a testament to the old Bay that he loves. <\/p>\n

Marttila says \u201cfuck all that shit\u201d to Herb Caen. For him, this city is still Frisco.<\/a><\/p>\n

But if Marttila\u2019s skull is the climax that Oropeza identifies, another major point comes immediately after with 22 sheets from Marttila\u2019s sketchbook. The arrangement is a compilation of unfinished projects, symbols of personal value, and sketches straight from the subconscious.\u00a0<\/p>\n

As a muralist in the Mission, Marttila draws from a long line<\/a> of painters and revolutionaries. But his solo show at Incline reads more like introspection than a necessarily outward-facing art. <\/p>\n

Looking at his mural on 18th and Valencia streets, Marttila said that he feels more comfortable painting out in the open. Making things alone, he said, \u201cis sometimes more pressure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"TwoTwo paintings from Incline Gallery\u2019s new show, edited to appear closer together. Photos by Max Marttila.\"AMax Marttila stands next to his painting at Incline Gallery, on July 10, 2025. Photo by Frankie Solinsky Duryea.\"TwoTwo paintings from Incline Gallery\u2019s new show, edited to appear closer together. Photos by Max Marttila.<\/p>\n

Marttila acknowledged that if he were an outsider observer, he wouldn\u2019t be able to find a through-line in the show. Standing in front of a painting, he described it deadpan as \u201cGundam stuff mixed with, uh, dietary restrictions. And a robot coffee cup.\u201d<\/p>\n

The last work on display is a painted cartoonish reinterpretation of Bush Man, the late city legend<\/a> who used to jump out from behind a shrubbery and scare tourists at Fisherman\u2019s Wharf. <\/p>\n

Marttila says that the character is the patron saint of his show. The painting seems like a print, he admits. But if you look closer, those sharp lines betray the slight inconsistencies of a human hand. It\u2019s cartoonish, but genuine.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Marttila\u2019s show will run at Incline Gallery, 766 Valencia St., until Aug. 10.<\/p>\n

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