"Infinite Tapestry" Limited-Edition Optidelical Rainbow Dream Print by Mars-1

"Infinite Tapestry" Limited-Edition Optidelical Rainbow Dream Print by Mars-1

This newest edition of "Infinite Tapestry" was brought to life by master printmaker Scott McDonnell—

A 25-inch die-cut circle, UV printed on holographic-laminated aluminum.

The UV inks shimmer with hidden rainbows.

Five sculptural relief layers and spot-varnish accents pull light from shadow.

Framed in a floating euro-frame—this is a limited-edition, optidelic dream.

A 2.5D fine art print engineered by ArtDrop,

Signed an numbered by the artist Mars-1,

A Limited Edition of 50,

made exclusively for The Chambers Project.

Where story, technology, and soul collide.

INFINITE TAPESTRY

As told by Mars-1 (Mario Martinez)

Some pieces… they haunt you.

Infinite Tapestry is one of those.

I started working on the concept back in 2010. I was deep in the zone—back-to-back shows, tons of output, and I was building this internal visual language that started to feel more like a living organism than a style. My own alphabet, almost. You do enough painting, it’s like the work starts speaking through you. Shapes, forms, ideas… they emerge from someplace deeper than conscious thought.

During that period, I was experimenting with this dot language—these tiny white points I’d embed into my pieces. I’d been doing these works on paper—ink sealed up, glazed, layered with acrylic—and I kept getting drawn to this particular pattern of dots. I thought: What happens if I isolate that? Just the dots, the rhythm, the illusion of space bending around something that’s not even there. So I painted a small piece—two feet by two feet, nothing too ambitious—but people locked into it immediately. It hit differently than the color-explosive stuff I was known for. The monochrome made it quieter, more meditative. People said they saw things in it—visions, memories, patterns they’d seen in dreams. That was interesting.

Later that year, Meta Gallery in Toronto invited me to show in a group exhibition called Map Makers. That dot experiment became the seed of Infinite Tapestry, the first version. It was a visual field of white-on-black—thousands of individually placed dots flowing around this central form. A kind of negative space entity. It drew people in. Some said it felt like a portal. Others said they’d seen the pattern in altered states—like it had always been there, somewhere in their minds.

But that version of Infinite Tapestry isn’t the one you’re looking at now.

The piece you see here came years later. And it carries a different kind of weight.

By then, I had kids. Nova had just been born. Suddenly, everything shifted. Deadlines hit differently. It wasn’t just about locking myself in the studio for four months, not sleeping, pushing through for the sake of a show. Now I had to think about being present. About time. Energy. Balance. That whole “artist as monk” thing doesn’t quite fly when your partner is holding down the household and you’re a ghost for weeks at a time.

But the dots… they kept calling me.

So I decided to do it again—but this time on a much larger scale. A six-foot round, massive composition. It was ambitious. And man, it was torturous. Thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of dots. You can only do so much in a day before your eyes start sliding off the canvas. There were days I’d stare at the piece and feel like I was hallucinating just from the repetition. Hours would go by, and I’d only make it through a few inches.

I took breaks. I put it down. I swore I’d never do another one. It took five years—maybe longer—to finish. It was this slow burn that threaded through all the other work I was doing. And in that time, life kept happening. My kids were growing up. My priorities were shifting. But every time I came back to that canvas, it was like a meditation. Dot after dot. Layer after layer. Trying to stay present. Trying to build something that lived beyond explanation.

Eventually, that first large Infinite Tapestry sold. A close friend, Brian, let it go during a tough time to fund his gallery in Denver. It meant a lot to him—and it meant a lot to me. So when he came back later and asked if I’d do another version, I agreed. Hesitantly. But I did it.

This time, I went a little different on the gradients. Smaller dots overall. Even more repetition. Honestly, I think this one had even more complexity. But it also had more intention. It wasn’t just a painting—it was a process of holding space. For my work. For my family. For my past self, who once believed he could just disappear into the canvas and come out months later unchanged.

And now, that second version? It’s been reimagined. We took it to the next level.

Scott McDonnell—master printmaker—took that photo data, manipulated, elevated, and crafted a 2.5D fine art edition: a 25-inch die-cut round, UV printed on holographic-laminated aluminum. It shimmers. You move around it and it catches light like a living thing. Spot varnish glints across the dotwork. Five sculptural relief layers give it texture, form, presence.

It's not a print. It's a mint, a portal.

This edition is for the Chambers Project in Grass Valley. A limited-edition, optidelic dream. But more than that—it’s a record. Of time. Of struggle. Of vision. Of being a father, a partner, an artist… and still trying to keep that whisper alive.

Each dot? A breath.

A choice.

A moment of attention.

Maybe that’s all we ever leave behind. A trail of small, intentional marks… stitched together like stars.

A tapestry, infinite.