{"object":[{"sourceId":{"label":"Source ID","value":"52"},"copyright":{"label":"Copyright","value":"© Estate of Martín Ramírez"},"creditline":{"label":"Credit Line","value":"Gift of Herbert Waide Hemphill, Jr. © Estate of Martín Ramírez"},"endDate":{"label":"End Date","value":"1958"},"sortNumber":{"label":"Sort Number","value":"1990     1    2"},"invno":{"label":"Accession number","value":"1990.1.2"},"description":{"label":"Description","value":""},"medium":{"label":"Medium","value":"Crayon and pencil on pieced paper"},"geographyPlaceregion":{"label":"Place/Region","value":"Auburn"},"media":{"label":"Media","value":{"mediaURL":"https://collection.folkartmuseum.org/internal/media/dispatcher/2050/full","mediaDepartment":"Object Photographs","mediaType":"Image","mediaId":"2050"}},"title":{"label":"Title","value":"Untitled (Train)"},"geographyCity":{"value":"Auburn"},"textEntriesWebsitedisplaytext":{"value":["DRAWING","Martín Ramírez, the great self-taught draftsman of the twentieth century, left his native Los Altos de Jalisco, Mexico, in 1925 to find work in the United States and support his wife and children back home. Political struggles in Mexico that directly impacted his family and the economic consequences of the Great Depression left him stranded, jobless and homeless, on the streets of California in 1931. Unable to communicate in English and apparently confused, he was soon picked up by the police and committed to a psychiatric hospital, where he would eventually be diagnosed as a catatonic schizophrenic. Ramírez spent the second half of his life in California mental institutions. Separated from his homeland, his family, and his friends, and not speaking the language of his adopted country, Ramírez hardly talked to anybody during those thirty-two years. Instead, he began to assemble found bits of paper\u2014flattened paper cups, hospital supply forms, and book pages, for example\u2014using a self-made glue concocted of bread or potato starch and spit to create large surfaces for drawing. He was then able to freely purge himself of images, which over time have become iconic. He often portrayed animals (frequently deer), soldierlike men on horseback, and madonnas of many different varieties, and just as often he depicted moving trains entering or departing a tunnel.After having traveled to the United States at least in part by train, Ramírez worked on the railroad and in the mines in northern California (which were certainly served by rail lines). The larger renderings of trains driving through abstract landscapes feel like visual diaries of the artist's life. The forms that are set in the largely abstract landscapes are pared down to the basics: trains, tracks, and tunnels. While the drawings in this series are compositionally similar, and their subject is the same, subtle differences exist. The train in this composition, which is strictly organized in four horizontal bands, enters the picture from a tunnel on the left, with another tunnel beckoning from the right. One gets the feeling that the train just circles around and around, in and out of tunnels, on a never-ending journey. The other panels are decorative, but they also strikingly suggest train tracks (as well as railroad ties and structural tunnel supports) as seen from above, below, and the sides. The overall effect is of great movement, perhaps referencing the artist's long, personal journey from Mexico to the United States, and the great distance between where he found himself and where he had come from. The controlled line in the drawing is admirable, especially when one considers the rough, uneven surface pasted together from a variety of papers, including a greeting card, a candy-box wrapper, and a book. (It is known that Ramírez used a tongue depressor as a straightedge.) The book pages used in the top panel were torn from a copy of The Man Who Wouldn't Talk, a title startlingly suggestive of the artist's biography. With its inventive use of materials, subject matter, and stylization, this drawing is a classic example of Ramírez's work.","With its inventive materials, subject matter, and stylization, this drawing is a classic example of Martín Ramírez's work. The artist pieced together found scrap bits and pieces of paper with a homemade concoction of starch (bread or potato) and spit to create a suitably large surface for drawings. He often depicted moving trains, frequently entering or departing a tunnel, and just as often portrayed animals (frequently deer), soldierlike men on horseback, and madonnas of many different varieties. Central images are typically surrounded by decorative border motifs, and in Train it seems likely from the orderliness of line that Ramírez used some type of straight edge to execute the lines. The controlled line is admirable when one considers the rough, uneven surface pasted together from a variety of paper goods, including a greeting card and a candy box wrapper.The composition of Train includes four horizontal bands; the primary action is a train exiting one tunnel only to enter another. One gets the feeling that this train just circles around and around, in and out of tunnels, on a never-ending journey. The other bands are decorative, recalling train tracks seen from a bird's-eye view and implying a moving landscape. Perhaps the artist was referencing his long, personal journey from Mexico to the United States, or the great distance between where he found himself and where he had been.Ramírez created approximately three hundred works within the confines of Dewitt State Hospital in the northern California town of Auburn, where he resided from around 1948 until his death in 1963. He had migrated from Mexico to Los Angeles, where he was picked up on the streets in 1930 and institutionalized after being diagnosed a paranoid schizophrenic. Ramírez's imagery clearly harks back to his homeland; the religious and nationalistic figures, as well as the decorative motifs, recall Mexico's rich history and culture.Brooke Davis Anderson, \"Train,\" in Stacy C. Hollander, American Anthem: Masterworks from the American Folk Art Museum (New York: Harry N. Abrams in association with American Folk Art Museum, 2001), 389.Object information is a work in progress and may be updated with new research. Records are reviewed and revised, and the American Folk Art Museum welcomes additional information.　To help improve this record, please email photoservices@folkartmuseum.org "]},"bibliography":{"label":"Bibliography","value":""},"collections":{"label":"Collections","value":["Works on Paper","eMuseum - Collection Highlights"]},"geography":{"label":"Geography","value":"Auburn"},"id":{"label":"Id","value":"152231"},"geographyState":{"value":"California"},"geographyCountry":{"value":"United States"},"onview":{"label":"On View","value":"0"},"people":{"label":"Artist / Maker","value":{"displayOrder":"1","personRole":"Artist","personID":"777","content":"Martín Ramírez"}},"classifications":{"label":"Classification(s)","value":"Drawings"},"textEntries":{"label":"Text Entries","value":["DRAWING","Martín Ramírez, the great self-taught draftsman of the twentieth century, left his native Los Altos de Jalisco, Mexico, in 1925 to find work in the United States and support his wife and children back home. Political struggles in Mexico that directly impacted his family and the economic consequences of the Great Depression left him stranded, jobless and homeless, on the streets of California in 1931. Unable to communicate in English and apparently confused, he was soon picked up by the police and committed to a psychiatric hospital, where he would eventually be diagnosed as a catatonic schizophrenic. Ramírez spent the second half of his life in California mental institutions. Separated from his homeland, his family, and his friends, and not speaking the language of his adopted country, Ramírez hardly talked to anybody during those thirty-two years. Instead, he began to assemble found bits of paper\u2014flattened paper cups, hospital supply forms, and book pages, for example\u2014using a self-made glue concocted of bread or potato starch and spit to create large surfaces for drawing. He was then able to freely purge himself of images, which over time have become iconic. He often portrayed animals (frequently deer), soldierlike men on horseback, and madonnas of many different varieties, and just as often he depicted moving trains entering or departing a tunnel.After having traveled to the United States at least in part by train, Ramírez worked on the railroad and in the mines in northern California (which were certainly served by rail lines). The larger renderings of trains driving through abstract landscapes feel like visual diaries of the artist's life. The forms that are set in the largely abstract landscapes are pared down to the basics: trains, tracks, and tunnels. While the drawings in this series are compositionally similar, and their subject is the same, subtle differences exist. The train in this composition, which is strictly organized in four horizontal bands, enters the picture from a tunnel on the left, with another tunnel beckoning from the right. One gets the feeling that the train just circles around and around, in and out of tunnels, on a never-ending journey. The other panels are decorative, but they also strikingly suggest train tracks (as well as railroad ties and structural tunnel supports) as seen from above, below, and the sides. The overall effect is of great movement, perhaps referencing the artist's long, personal journey from Mexico to the United States, and the great distance between where he found himself and where he had come from. The controlled line in the drawing is admirable, especially when one considers the rough, uneven surface pasted together from a variety of papers, including a greeting card, a candy-box wrapper, and a book. (It is known that Ramírez used a tongue depressor as a straightedge.) The book pages used in the top panel were torn from a copy of The Man Who Wouldn't Talk, a title startlingly suggestive of the artist's biography. With its inventive use of materials, subject matter, and stylization, this drawing is a classic example of Ramírez's work.","With its inventive materials, subject matter, and stylization, this drawing is a classic example of Martín Ramírez's work. The artist pieced together found scrap bits and pieces of paper with a homemade concoction of starch (bread or potato) and spit to create a suitably large surface for drawings. He often depicted moving trains, frequently entering or departing a tunnel, and just as often portrayed animals (frequently deer), soldierlike men on horseback, and madonnas of many different varieties. Central images are typically surrounded by decorative border motifs, and in Train it seems likely from the orderliness of line that Ramírez used some type of straight edge to execute the lines. The controlled line is admirable when one considers the rough, uneven surface pasted together from a variety of paper goods, including a greeting card and a candy box wrapper.The composition of Train includes four horizontal bands; the primary action is a train exiting one tunnel only to enter another. One gets the feeling that this train just circles around and around, in and out of tunnels, on a never-ending journey. The other bands are decorative, recalling train tracks seen from a bird's-eye view and implying a moving landscape. Perhaps the artist was referencing his long, personal journey from Mexico to the United States, or the great distance between where he found himself and where he had been.Ramírez created approximately three hundred works within the confines of Dewitt State Hospital in the northern California town of Auburn, where he resided from around 1948 until his death in 1963. He had migrated from Mexico to Los Angeles, where he was picked up on the streets in 1930 and institutionalized after being diagnosed a paranoid schizophrenic. Ramírez's imagery clearly harks back to his homeland; the religious and nationalistic figures, as well as the decorative motifs, recall Mexico's rich history and culture.Brooke Davis Anderson, \"Train,\" in Stacy C. Hollander, American Anthem: Masterworks from the American Folk Art Museum (New York: Harry N. Abrams in association with American Folk Art Museum, 2001), 389.Object information is a work in progress and may be updated with new research. Records are reviewed and revised, and the American Folk Art Museum welcomes additional information.　To help improve this record, please email photoservices@folkartmuseum.org "]},"beginDate":{"label":"Begin Date","value":"1948"},"displayDate":{"label":"Date","value":"c. 1953"},"exhibitions":{"label":"Exhibitions","value":[{"exhibitionDisplayDate":"Tuesday, January 23, 2007 - Sunday, May 13, 2007","exhibitionEndISODate":"2007-05-13","exhibitionID":"138","exhibitionISOBeginDate":"2007-01-23","exhibitionBeginDate":"2007","exhibitionTitle":"Martin Ramirez","exhibitionEndDate":"2007"},{"exhibitionDisplayDate":"Thursday, June 28, 1990 - Sunday, September 9, 1990","exhibitionEndISODate":"1990-09-09","exhibitionID":"15","exhibitionISOBeginDate":"1990-06-28","exhibitionBeginDate":"1990","exhibitionTitle":"Pictures, Patchwork and Promised Gifts","exhibitionEndDate":"1990"},{"exhibitionDisplayDate":"Friday, January 21, 2022 - Monday, September 5, 2022","exhibitionEndISODate":"2022-09-05","exhibitionID":"251","exhibitionISOBeginDate":"2022-01-21","exhibitionBeginDate":"2022","exhibitionTitle":"MULTITUDES","exhibitionEndDate":"2022"}]},"dimensions":{"label":"Dimensions","value":"Sheet: 22 1/2 x 47 \"Frame: 33 1/4 x 57 3/4 x 1 1/2 \""}}]}