MARTIN WAS born in Cork on January 15 1927 and grew up in his beloved city during very tough times. As a part-time student, he came under the guiding influence of college principal Seoirle Mac Cana at the Crawford School of Art, Cork during the late 1940s and early 1950s. Mac Cana saw in him the potential he was later to fulfil. Martin went on to become an accomplished artist, draughtsman and illustrator.
He spent his working life in Dublin where he earned his bread in the advertising industry. Working in Domas Advertising he served first with Paddy Considine and Peter Owens, then later as Paddy's right man in Asdell. He headed up the art department of Murphy and Kyne Design for a period before working again with Peter Owens in Peter Owens Advertising.
His latter years were spent working as a freelance artist/designer.
Martin Collins was a truly talented, multi-faceted man. Martin was a teacher. He taught advertising practice in the College of Commerce in Rathmines. He had the gift of being able to connect directly with his students. He brought to teaching the same "one-to-one" methodology he had himself experienced in the School of Art, Cork. He could and did inspire and motivate his students.
Martin was a writer. In advertising he found an outlet for another of his talents - as a writer. He was a gifted copywriter, creating and distilling copy and slogans that became part of the commercial world of the 1970s and 1980s.
Martin was widely read; he hero-worshipped Hemingway and stayed abreast of modern writing in English.
As a true son of his native city, O'Faolain and O'Connor were among his favourites. He was also a writer in the purest sense of the word.
Some of his short stories were published, while he finished a novel which some privileged friends were given to read. He never got around to publishing it.
Martin was an artist. For most of his life he painted in that most challenging of mediums, watercolours. He had a one-man exhibition in the Lad Lane Gallery run by Suzanne McDougall (now of the Solomon Gallery).
This showing of his work was a sell-out. The Irish Timesart critic of the day gave a deservedly good review, cannily observing that most of his paintings contained one lone figure. (How telling that was.)
Martin was an illustrator. For some years he illustrated and wrote a feature on the birds of Ireland for a Sunday newspaper. One bird per week kept him going for a long time.
Eventually, as he told it, "I ran out of birds and introduced one or two new ones until some observant citizen rang the newspaper. I was called in to the newspaper's offices, confronted by the editor and asked if I had resorted to fiction. I looked him long in the eye and admitted that I had.
After an equally long pause he began to laugh and I was relieved of my series and even more relieved to be found out."
Martin was a good friend. Down the years we stayed in touch and shared among other things a passion for fly fishing. He fished most rivers in Leinster as well as the Blackwater. He was the most delicate caster of a fly ever seen and could land one on the nose of an unsuspecting trout.
The going to and coming from the rivers, however, were hours full of fun and song, for he was a marvellous raconteur with a fine singing voice.
It is good to know that in some faiths it is held that "time spent fishing will not be taken into account".
Martin was a proud and loving father who passed his talents on to his sons and daughters. On his return from every trip to the US, where his children now all live, he would give a blow-by-blow account of his visit and a glowing report of the quality time he shared with them there.
He was proud of their progress, their careers and of his grand children.
Martin was also a very private man. With him there was no room for the false. He was the lone figure of his paintings, but if you were fortunate, his "how're you, scout?" let you know you were "in".
He had a place of honour in O'Brien's in Sussex Place, near the Grand Canal.
There he held court and throughout his long illness his friends drove him from his nursing home to his favourite Dublin places.
His private life was very private.
He was blessed in his latter years by the love, care and companionship of Nora, who brought him the gift of serenity.
With her he tamed his demons and was happy at home in himself. Martin died on May 11th, 2008, in the presence of those who loved him.
His body lies in the Dublin hills in Mount Venus cemetery looking down over the city to the sea he loved so much.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.