Margot Datz has a contagious zest for life and a remarkable spirit of adventure. Her range of artistic expression is as vast as her creative vision.
Datz knew by age 4 that she was destined to be an artist, but she was not yet sure how she would get there. In college, she visited a gallery showing Yoko Ono’s work, where a piece changed her life. The work required the viewer to climb a ladder to look at the word “Yes,” written in pencil on a ledge: “My life cracked open. It was about saying yes as much as I possibly could.”
Datz has been an artistic force for more than 50 years: “My life has been a twisting river of creativity. I was often turtle-stepping. People would think I was walking on water, but a sea turtle would come up, and I would step on it, and I’d think, Now what? Then another sea turtle would come, and I’d step on that one.”
Datz’s first body of work was nearly 200 sculptures of distinct individuals she fashioned from high-fire stoneware and fabric, reaching about two feet high. Each wonderfully idiosyncratic piece oozes personality, such as the one of an old-time shucker named Oscar. “The Madame at the Opera,” regally outfitted in a long, adorned evening gown and mink stole, glares like she just spotted another woman in the same dress who looks better than she does.
“At this time in my life, I wanted to learn about people. While sculpting their faces, I could feel the muscles inside me. It was a reverse type of experience,” Datz says. “By making their expression, I was feeling the emotion. It was a very interesting phenomenon I didn’t expect.” The sculptures were highly successful. “But when I moved to the Vineyard and had a real child, I couldn’t make them anymore,” Datz reflects. “It was like an identity crisis. I needed to provide for my child, and we needed money.”
She lit upon an idea when noticing that, at the time, all the houses on the Island had plain white walls. Datz teamed up with Linda Carnegie and started a residential mural business: “I had no idea how to paint, but I knew I could just figure it out. ‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.’” She immersed herself in research at the library, and absorbed information about a great many styles: “I could explore styles from folk to Asian to Hudson River.” Datz also created faux finishes, such as trompe l’oeil imagery of aging walls or faux marble and wood. “It all allowed me a wonderful opportunity to try so many different things, to grow and stretch and reach. As fast as I learned of them, I would try them out. It was thrilling. There were times I did things, and I’d have to do them completely over.”
Although they varied wildly, Datz’s residential murals were a perfect mixture of meticulous accuracy and spectacular imagination. She covered bedrooms, kitchens, bathrooms, studies, entryways, and stairwells with beautifully rendered imagery that created fabulous worlds. No two were ever alike. “I was trying to give each client a real identity. I realized the Island was so small that I could paint myself into a corner. I learned to listen to people and fuse it with their homes, environments, tastes, and possessions. We would talk about what they envisioned. I might add to that. I might suggest something they never thought of. Part of my pleasure was bringing them to this creative level they didn’t expect, and sharing their happiness.”
In the 1990s, Datz partnered with Carly Simon to create a series of enchanting children’s books. Through Simon, she also took on a gratifying project to decorate 230 feet of wall space in the Hot Tin Roof. She added real objects, such as old shingles, rusted metal roofing, and discarded windows, to extend her murals into three dimensions.
Ever curious to explore new modes of expression, Datz started doing personal framed paintings for the first time at 40. She was initially a little daunted with this new pursuit, so she started small, creating 5- by 7-inch paintings, and nearly sold out her very first show. Datz strongly urges others to have the courage to change, if possible: “Change will keep you authentic. Try not to let what you are doing define you. If you can’t change things in big ways, change them in little ways. You can scale the change to yourself. It will take you someplace that you might not even expect. Don’t spend your whole life yearning. Time is just ticking.”
Datz entered a period in which she depicted mermaids as an archetype for herself and women in many paintings, which she then grouped into a book, “Survival Guide for Landlocked Mermaids.” Refusing to be pigeonholed, she says, “I did these mermaids, so I began to be identified as the mermaid of Martha’s Vineyard, but I knew I was more off than that.”
Datz shifted again when she began to take on public art commissions in the early 2000s: “I’ve watched a lot of my work be painted over. But with many of the public works, I feel they will hang around a while, which is rewarding.” On the Vineyard alone, she has worked on Oak Bluffs and Edgartown libraries, the two ferry terminals, the café at the YMCA, the lobby of the Capawock theater, recreated the trompe l’oeil murals in the Old Whaling Church, and is presently working on those in the Flying Horses carousel.
“It is exciting to work on more grand projects,” Datz says. She has discovered that public art requires several skill sets: “It’s not just to be an artist. You have to be able to work with people and committees to bring a vision to fruition. I usually gain the organization’s confidence with a well-polished rendering, which can then change. They can have input. There’s a give-and-take. I find that fulfilling, and something that came with maturation. I’ve had to fall in love with the process and not the product.”
As far as the future is concerned, fortunately, Datz reassures us, “I have visions of things I want to do. My dreams are getting bigger.”
To keep abreast of Margot Datz’s work, follow her on Facebook at facebook.com/margot.datz.
