On the walls and ceilings of his little Coral Springs house, in his bathrooms and hallways, on his bed and on his tables, South Florida’s birds keep Meir Martin company.
Photographs taken by him, of egrets, ibises, herons, cranes and swans, have been blown up to larger-than-life sizes, occupying close to every inch of wall space. It’s almost impossible to count how many pieces are in the collection, which includes furniture and enormous round, rectangular, oval and and square images. Martin took a rough count recently and estimated about 95 works; the biggest is about 20 feet long.
He’s clearly obsessed. And those who have visited the house are seeing a new side of their photographer-friend.
“It’s kind of astonishing, almost shocking,” said Stephan Zelly Tafeen of Tamarac, a fellow photographer who stopped by the house about a year ago. “He’s a first-class professional photographer with excellent camera-handling skills, but also an artist who oozes surrealness. He arranges these birds like nobody’s business.”
Martin, a veteran photographer who was born in Israel and moved to Coral Springs in 1986, believes he has a mission to educate South Floridians about the beautiful flying creatures who live among us. His art works are not for sale; he sees them as educational tools.
“I want to ignite young people to love birds,” said Martin, 72, a father of three. “I want this place to be a museum.”
Martin had been a photographer in northern Israel when a nature lover visited his studio and recommended he visit the country’s Mount Hermon to record its abundant bird population. A few years later, he headed south to photograph a rare Middle Eastern species, the desert tawny owl. He captured a pair on a light pole near the Dead Sea in 1984. Thus began a deep connection to Israel’s rare bird population and the publication of his 1986 book of photography, “Desert Birds of Israel,” which he co-authored with birdwatcher and friend Oz Horin.
He moved to the United States that same year but gave up on taking pictures.
“I stopped photographing due to the extremely high cost of film,” Martin said. “At the time, I also didn’t feel a connection yet between the birds of the United States and the birds of Israel that I admired so much.”
But by 2008, he had become inspired by cameras’ new digital capabilities (which cost less money) and a visit to the Everglades, where he was entranced by the colorful ibises and roseate spoonbills, their nests, their chicks and their intimate relationships.
“I’m not a religious person, but I began to admire the power of the universe,” he said.
He has traveled all over the state to photograph Florida wildlife but has especially come to love Wakodahatchee Wetlands in Delray Beach, where there are plentiful hawks, purple gallinules, blue jays and wood storks. He alternates between shooting with a Nikon D4 camera and a Nikon D850.
“I stopped photographing people, only birds,” he said. “People always complain, but birds never complain.”
He spends his days tinkering with his photos on Adobe Bridge and Photoshop on a Windows 10 PC with a color-calibrated monitor. His desk houses four computer screens, although he is about to upgrade to eight to better process and construct his massive works of art.
Boynton Beach resident Michael Kamerlink met Martin at Wakodahatchee about three years ago and invited Martin recently to speak to the Valencia Sound Photography Club. He said the members were intrigued by Martin’s intensive focus and spiritual connection to his feathered subjects.
“He catches the soul of the bird,” Kamerlink said. “He doesn’t just photograph them and stick them on there. He gets them into a position where they catch your eye and he follows the story.”
Martin lives alone with his gentle Doberman Pinscher, Belle. His wife, Donia, died in 2023 of breast cancer. His three children live in Coral Springs, Fort Lauderdale and Massachusetts.
He said he hopes to open his home to public visits by October and to donate the home with its contents to a bird-preservation group at the end of his life.
In the meantime, even though there is little room left in his house, Martin said he has no plans to stop snapping bird pics.
“Maybe in 500 years,” he said.
Go to meirmartin.com for information on touring the gallery.
