Artem Mayer

You trained as an economist and finished music school earlier. What was the precise moment you realized instrument-making was your path?

The realization came to me during my time at the institute, around my third year. I even took an academic leave to focus on something new and try developing my own business related to musical instruments. At first, it was more of an experiment: I earned my first income by repairing and tuning guitars, combining this with teaching — after all, I had started giving guitar lessons back in 2005.

Gradually, I realized it wasn’t just a side job or a hobby. Every new task — whether a minor repair or a more complex modification — brought me a special sense of satisfaction. I could see the results and knew I was succeeding. Over time, this interest grew, gaining knowledge, experience, and confidence. At some point, I understood: this is my path, my true direction. I began doing what I both knew and loved, and that turned out to be my calling.

Artem Mayer | Donut Guitar | 2025

What most influences your creativity?

For me, creativity is not just an activity or a profession, but a natural, fundamental need, akin to breathing or sleeping. A person may be tired or sleep-deprived, but if they are passionately creating something, they are ready to neglect even the most basic physical needs in order to bring their idea to life and complete the image. In this sense, art stands above ordinary human needs—it is nourished by the depths of the inner world and does not always obey the logic of everyday life. When external factors such as market trends, expectations, or commercial demands start to dominate the process, it becomes more of a business than genuine creativity. For me, it is important to preserve the purity of the source—that state in which the creative impulse is born not from calculation but from inner necessity—so that it gains true power.

What materials do you use? How do you choose them? What draws you to them?

The foundation of my work is almost always wood. I complement it with paints, metal, or plastic—everything depends on the idea and on the task that the artwork itself sets for me. The choice of material is never random: it must correspond to the image born in my mind and help bring the concept to life. But of course, as a guitar maker, I love working with wood most of all. I have been creating musical instruments for twenty years and have learned to sense the material not only with my hands but also with my ears. The choice of wood determines the color of the sound, its depth, resonance, and even the character of the instrument. One and the same instrument, made from different types of wood, will sound completely different. Everything matters: the species, the place where the tree grew, even the way it was sawn.

For example, swamp ash is a rare wood found only in certain regions of the United States. It is expensive and difficult to transport, but it gives a unique tone. Honduran mahogany and Sitka spruce are also rare species that grow only in limited areas of the American continent. I have to search for them literally board by board—sourcing from specialized suppliers all over the world.

Wood has an amazing journey: it travels across the planet before becoming part of a work of art. I have a supplier in Australia, for instance, who sends me ebony for fingerboards. The tree itself doesn’t grow in Australia—it was brought there from another part of the world. Then it arrived in my workshop, became part of a guitar, and eventually went to Germany. Who knows where it will end up? There’s something symbolic about this: every piece of material carries its own story and continues it in a new form.

At the same time, I love working with many different materials. Each of them opens new possibilities and presents challenges that require study, problem-solving, and experimentation. It’s always an experience, a source of knowledge, and a new result. By mastering new materials, I grow not only as a craftsman but also as an artist—and even as a person. After all, every new material is another facet of the world that you discover through creativity.

Artem Mayer | Donut Guitar | 2025

Tell us about your favorite techniques and materials. Which technique do you enjoy the most? Why did you turn to this particular approach?

I try not to confine myself to any single technique. In my case, the choice always emerges during the process—the work itself dictates how it wants to come to life. Sometimes familiar tools are enough, and sometimes achieving the desired effect requires materials and methods I’ve never worked with before. This, for me, is the special magic of creativity: constantly exploring, expanding boundaries, and combining what might seem incompatible.

As a result, my practice takes shape as a mixed technique that, over time, might even be recognized as my own. After all, any new style is born this way—through enthusiasts and pioneers who take elements from different fields and create something unique. In my case, it might mean, for example, working with wood that demands sculptural precision and finishing it with liquid plastic, a material from a completely different, more technological and chemically complex sphere. Their combination gives rise to a new visual language, new meanings, and sensations that would be impossible to convey within a single traditional technique.

Each donut is hand-carved wood with a liquid-plastic “glaze.” What was the trickiest technical problem to solve?

The most challenging task turned out to be bringing this idea to life at all. For example, I originally planned to create the “caps” of the donuts using the impasto technique, applying a thick layer of acrylic paint. But it quickly became clear that this idea wouldn’t work: the decorative sprinkles for the glaze started to dissolve before the paint could dry. The reason was that acrylic paint contains water, and the sprinkles simply melted in it. I had to look for new solutions, and that’s how the liquid plastic option emerged, allowing me to achieve the desired effect. This became an example of blending techniques, when an artistic goal required stepping beyond familiar materials.

All the other technical aspects were fairly manageable and routine. Much more questions arose on the artistic side: how best to treat the surface, which texture to choose, whether to paint the “dough” on the neck of the guitar, and which options among the many possible would turn out to be the most expressive. So the main challenge was not so much the technology itself, but finding the perfect balance of form and image to make the final result as convincing and striking as possible.

Artem Mayer | Donut Guitar | 2025

How do you position the Donut Guitar: sculpture that can be played, or a stage instrument that happens to be sculptural?

The Donut Guitar balances on the edge of two worlds. On one hand, it is a fully functional musical instrument — with its own sound, comfort, and the ability to perform on stage. After all, I am first and foremost a guitar maker, and music has always been my top priority. At the same time, it is an art object, a sculpture containing a hidden idea and image. It works both as an instrument and as a work of art, and it is precisely in this dual meaning that I find its value.

Pop art thrives on the familiar. Why donuts? What cultural meanings did you want to plug into?

The Donut Guitar is not a standalone story but a continuation of my series of guitar-sculptures. Before it, there were guitars made of French fries, iPhones, and instant noodles. Each of them can be viewed on its own, yet together they form a single narrative that reveals the core idea.

That idea is quite simple: it’s a playful take on pop art and the blending of different popular objects. In the music world there are also “pop” forms—legendary guitar silhouettes popularized over decades by famous musicians. Everyone recognizes them; they have become part of mass culture. Donuts, French fries, instant noodles are the same, only from the world of food and everyday life. They are commercial, quintessentially “pop” symbols that have turned into universal markers of mass culture.

For me this is a kind of irony about familiar images. At the same time, it reflects the essence of art: nothing is absolutely new, everything is in some way a compilation. Music has only seven notes, and every piece is a variation on old themes. It’s the same here: a donut remains a donut, a popular guitar shape remains a guitar. But when they meet, a new object is born—a Donut Guitar—embodying the very idea of pop art: to take the recognizable and rethink it, to unite the familiar in an unfamiliar context.

Artem Mayer | Donut Guitar | 2025

Your text reframes reproducibility in pop art as audience-driven via social media. Do you see shares/memes as part of the artwork itself?

Of course, I do. That’s exactly the point. Art is made for people, and if it brings them joy, stirs emotions, or inspires them to share it, then everything has been done right. Take Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, for example: its popularity grew largely because its image was widely reproduced—appearing on posters, postcards, and notebooks. That reproduction helped make it one of the most recognizable paintings in the world. And it’s worth remembering that at one time the Mona Lisa “gathered dust in attics” for years, yet today it is the most famous painting on earth.

Today, media work even faster. Reposts, memes, and viral images spread across social networks instantly, giving a work of art a new life in the digital space. Leonardo da Vinci didn’t have such opportunities, but contemporary artists do, and it would be strange not to use them.

Pop art was originally built on the idea of reproducibility and quick replication. What was once impossible on a large scale has now become part of everyday life. That’s why this style is so close to me: it naturally connects art and mass culture, and in the age of social media it feels especially relevant. You could say that today, for the first time in history, an artist can witness their own immortality.

Have any notable musicians played or recorded with the Donut Guitar yet? What did they say about feel and sound?

Yes, as part of the video about the Donut Guitar I invited my friend Alexey Strike — a well-known Russian guitarist, composer, and teacher, founder of the band Strike, author of solo albums, and participant in many music projects. He played this guitar and made a recording. His impressions were very vivid, and he said verbatim: “It looks sweet, sounds sweet, and the music coming from it should flow sweetly.” In short, he really liked the instrument.

The guitar itself is in my workshop, where many famous guitarists and teachers have their instruments serviced. It’s hard to miss: everyone who comes in inevitably reacts, takes pictures with it, and tries to play something. Sometimes people even come specifically for the Donut Guitar, just to see it in person and hold it in their hands.

Artem Mayer | Donut Guitar | 2025

What’s next in your series that “collides craft and the irony of consumption”? Can you hint at the next unlikely material or icon?

We are preparing a collaboration with a well-known musician. A European guitar tour with this artist is planned for October. To be honest, it happened almost by chance: we were talking on the phone, and he said it would be great to go on tour with one of my unusual guitars. I shared an idea, and everything unexpectedly fell into place—the stars aligned, and the project turned out to be truly extraordinary.

It continues the pop-art line, but we decided to move away from the food theme. Here’s a hint: after the “Donut Guitar” dessert, it’s time to… lie back. This will be a bass guitar we are creating together with Stoun Guitars. The music industry in Russia is now on the rise; there is a steady trend toward the development of Russian musical instruments, new brands are emerging, and I am glad to contribute to this process.

Overall, I have many ideas and plans. The pop-art direction remains an inexhaustible source of inspiration for me, and each new material or image opens up fresh horizons.