Russian artist Markus Martinovich was still a baby when he began having seizures and was diagnosed with epilepsy and autism. Doctors told his mother, Natalya Isayeva, that his prognosis was so dire it would be best to put him into a care home, but she outright refused. Now 14 years old, Markus’s paintings sell for tens of thousands of dollars around the world, with proceeds going to good causes.
Astonishingly, autism has only been recognised as a condition since the mid-20th century—it was once even thought of either as a type of schizophrenia that impacted children raised by cold or distant parents, and later, a developmental disorder. Then, pioneering research by Austrian-American psychiatrist and physician, Leo Kanner, in 1943, talked of children with “extreme autistic aloneness”, “delayed echolalia” and “obsessive desire for the maintenance of sameness”. Kanner also concluded that it was not uncommon for the youngsters to be in possession of impressive memory and intelligence.
We now know that those with autism are in fact 10 times more likely to have genius-level abilities than the rest of the population—a condition known as ‘savant syndrome’. Through movies such as A Beautiful Mind and Rain Man, most associate savants with feats of extraordinary recall or mathematics, but prodigious talent in the arts such as music and painting are also common. And like so many aspects of autism, what compels such souls to embark on these creative endeavours, can be difficult to pin down.
“Everything around me inspires to create art,” Kay Aitch tells Jill Mullin, author of Drawing Autism, a celebration of the work of dozens of autistic artists from around the world. “What inspires me about creating art is the process of making marks, the feel of things, the seeing of shapes and patterns in things.”
With an almost superhuman ocular capacity, Jessica Park refers to the seven shades of black—along with nine shades of green, and five shades of violet, among others—in reference to her work. Shades, she says, are applied according to “a diagram that she holds in her mind from the beginning”; while another artist, Donna Williams reflects that her evocative paintings of figures with blank faces “express my world as a face-blind person”.
Bochavar believes it’s because “we have another language” allowing for expression in multiple ways, but for Markus, “this is his only language”
However — much to the disappointment of his many fans — Markus’s mum says that there is no reason to his work, rather he simply sees art “as a game”, which is hard to believe when considering the subject and the substance of his creations. When he first began drawing, Natalya was “astonished” by his talent and his insight, expecting a doodling of a house with a tree and a garden, the then 6-year-old said that he was painting “the shadow of a mother in the window”. “Oh my God, such a complex thing,” beams the proud mum to the BBC. “When I looked at the first draft it was so amazing—simple, but perfect composition.”
Upon being exhibited at Moscow’s Solyanka State Gallery, director Katya Bochavar, who is also an artist, says that “some very famous painters” were amazed by Markus’s “strong personality”, and wondered why they couldn’t paint like that. Bochavar believes it’s because “we have another language” allowing for expression in multiple ways, but for Markus, “this is his only language”.
And the teenager’s talents stretch way beyond painting. “He does sound art, video, photography, site-specific installations, graphic works…” Bochavar tells the Moscow Times. “…it’s a rare artist who works in so many genres. He can do it because for him, art is a game He doesn’t think, ‘What genre should I use?’ What am I doing?’ He just does it.”
Among Markus’s most revered works is an installation that comprises a collection of all-white rooms, whose all-white walls and furnishings are adorned with the words: ‘I’m here. I’m here with you’, scrawled in black.
They are the words that Markus’s mum has uttered to him since infanthood as she holds him following a fall, a bad dream, or a seizure. “It’s a phrase that protects him,” she says,” So that he knows that he’s not alone when this terrible thing happens. It could be applied to every person in the world—there is nobody who wouldn’t like to be taken care of.”
