A Most Unforgettable Character

For years, he and I stood on the platform waiting for the 6:07 AM train to Grand Central Station. We’d nod a polite hello, but never spoke. The ride into Manhattan took one and a half hours and I wouldn’t see him again until the next morning’s commute into the Big Apple.

He was about six feet tall, wore a long trench coat and fedora, and carried a leather briefcase. He looked like a judge, and I thought he appeared stern but kindly, and that he exuded a kind of judicial wisdom.

One frigid morning, for reasons I still don’t understand, I introduced myself--right on the train platform. We talked briefly, and when the train came, we sat next to each other. We talked about our lives--and he modestly said that while he ran a business with his two sons, he was a sculptor who carved life-sized marble figures using tools employed by the ancients--his methods are as old as art itself. He took out his cell phone and showed me a picture of one piece called “Neck Offering.” It was a mesmerizing white marble figure of a woman’s head and neck.

A week later, my wife and I met him and his beautiful wife at their home. We purchased “Neck Offering” which now sits on a pedestal in our dining room. I gaze at it each day, marveling at the beauty of her extended, curved neck, her flowing tresses and her exquisite features.

I’m writing this blog today because last Sunday, I attended a retrospective of his work at the home of one of his sons. Most of his sculptures had been transferred to the gallery his son built in his father's honor. A huge crowd attended. My sculptor friend gave a modest talk about his work and background while his adoring sons and wife listened amidst the throng.

Over time, I’ve learned a great deal about him. He graduated from a trade high school in the Bronx, and thought he would become an electrician. But World War II was raging, and he joined the army. He took an intelligence test and his score was off the charts. (He never said this; I simply know it). Rather than send him to the front, the U.S. Army sent him to Cornell on a government scholarship.

But he abhorred school--it was dry, stultifying, and he left the university. So the army dispatched him to the Pacific theatre where he was a rifleman during the Philippine campaign.

He returned from the war and became a draftsman, drawing meticulously crafted designs for industrial machines and equipment. During this time, he discovered in himself a love of the ancients, especially Egyptology. He was particularly fascinated by ancient monuments such as the Sphinx, the great Pyramids at Giza, and obelisks. He studied scholarly journals, visited the British Museum, and made many trips to Egypt to explore these incredible sites with his wife.

Over time, he became a self-taught scholar in the field, and theorized how the ancients moved huge blocks of stone (weighing tons) and how immense obelisks were raised. He demonstrated that these feats could be done with sticks and stones, and by understanding gravity and leverage. His theories created raging arguments in scholarly archeologic circles; yet he persisted in his beliefs. He wrote many papers which were published in the most prestigious journals; and he appeared in television’s NOVA series, where he demonstrated some of his theories.

In 2001, he wrote a fascinating book, Sticks, Stone, & Shadows: Building the Egyptian Pyramids, published by the University of Oklahoma Press. It explained his theories of these constructions, and was illustrated with scores of technical drawings he’d done himself. Not only that, this trade school graduate’s book has a forward written by Dieter Arnold, Senior Curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Professor of Egyptology at the University of Vienna.

Notably, only recently, scholars in the field have come to realize that my friend’s theories are most probably correct. He was able to look back in time and explain what had previously been speculation about the unknown.

Now, a month shy of 87, this remarkable man is still sculpting (smaller pieces) and is writing his memoirs. He is active, filled with life, has the most robust laugh I’ve ever heard, and possesses a sense of having fulfilled his artistic strivings.

This self-taught man, this autodidact—a writer, scholar, artist, sculptor, voracious reader of history, this businessman, husband and father—showed me that creativity and intellectual curiosity will always find an avenue of expression in someone with a passion for his art.

Martin Isler is a man I admire greatly. He is unforgettable. He will always be an artistic and lifestyle role model for me.

You can learn more about Martin Isler by visiting his newly established website: www.martinisler.com or visiting his Facebook page: Martin Isler Sculpture and Egyptology.

Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House