Martin Justin David Obituary

Martin Justin David, 61, passed away unexpectedly on March 9th, 2026, at Harborview Medical Center. Born in Bremerton, WA on May 27th, 1964, Marty came to find a loving home with Jane and Gary David and their three children of Silverdale, WA. With a talent for riding horses and bulls, Marty graduated from Central Kitsap High School with several rodeo trophies under his belt, but later followed his heart to the Northwest College of Art and Design in Poulsbo, WA.

After establishing careers in both construction and art, Marty started a family in Bremerton, WA with his (now, ex-) wife Marie and their two children. However, life had other plans for Marty. Divorced, he found himself in Port Townsend, a place he soon called home where he would often bring his two daughters, Kat and Christina Jane to visit and join him in his adventures around town.

While Marty made a modest living as master roofer and skilled contractor, he was locally known as a brilliant plein-air painter and sketch artist, often seen on the sidewalk painting busy street scenes or colorful natural landscapes. His eccentric and deeply caring nature was felt by loved ones, locals and strangers alike. Many will remember him wearing paint-splattered overalls and cowboy boots.

Marty was preceded in death by his sister, Amy; his father Gary; and his youngest daughter, Christina Jane. Marty is survived by his oldest daughter, Kat; his mother Jane; and his siblings Mindy, Lori, and Gary. A memorial and exhibit of his life’s creative work is being planned for the larger community for the end of 2026 or early 2027. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to the Dove House Recovery Cafe.

Facebook Post: April 11

Kat Marieposted toPort Townsend Community

Aol

Hi everyone, I just wanted to share words for my late father, the local artist, Marty David. We all lost a special person and in some ways a public figure, and I wanted to personally acknowledge that.

I've seen such an outpour of appreciation for my dad, as well as support for one another. I feel incredibly grateful that he was able to live out much of his life feeling at home and loved in the Port Townsend community.

My hope is to plan for a larger community memorial, as mentioned in the obituary, possibly in the next year. In the meantime, his blog is still active (thank you Jack Olmstead) and there is a beautiful tribute to my dad in yesterday's Letter to the Editor.

Thank you to everyone who continues his legacy

- Kat David

ptleader.com

Martin Justin David - Port Townsend & Jefferson County Leader

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Case: 26-00636 

Name: Martin Justin David 

Age: 61 years 

Male 

Date of Incident: 03/04/2026 

Incident Location: Port Hadlock Roadway

Cause of Death: Suicide 03/09/2026 

Manner of Death: Complications of sharp force injury of the neck  

Investigation Agency: Jefferson County Sheriff's Office

Jefferson County Beacon: Letter to the Editor

 

Letter to the Editor: Remembering Marty David

His loss brings questions on the importance of community and legacy.

Guest Writer

07 Apr 2026 Jefferson County Beacon

I met Marty David not long ago, this past year on the bus. 

He was wearing well his identity of being an artist. Paint splattered hat, overalls, hippy vibes radiating from every point. His eyes seemed to me curiously seeking and inviting of the world around him, yet reserved and patient at the same time. Perhaps waiting just to see, If, connection. 

He carried some of his work with him, including on cards and prints for sale. He was sharing his work but wasn’t asking for anything directly. An open invitation.

One day when our eyes and smiles connected, I made verbal contact. I can’t remember our initial exchange of words but probably started with my recognizing he was an artist and him confirming. He showed me some of his work. I noticed landscapes that felt like home.

By the end of our conversation I asked him if he might ever have interest in painting some chickens. He paused for a moment and kind of lit up and said yes. He left me with his card which I tucked away in my wallet. For someday.

I regret two things that could have been from this meeting. That I had bought some art from him, and that I had followed up sooner and invited him over sometime to paint my chickens.

We had several more encounters on the bus in the next months; some were simply noticing each other from afar because we weren’t sitting near, or I was talking with another passenger. Other times there was a brief exchange of the ‘how are things’ ‘how about this weather’ variety. 

In one more personal conversation, he shared that he had experienced the tragedy of losing a daughter. I felt the weightiness and held it for a moment, before offering words of empathy, how hard that must have been. He also mentioned he had another daughter, sharing some fatherly pride about her.

I also saw him at a community meal these past holidays. We didn’t speak then as I was volunteering and busy bee running here and there, but I was glad to see him. And that’s the way it was. Glad to see him. Maybe also intrigued. There was more to get to know.

The last time I saw him was a week or so before his parting. It was again on the bus. I was engaged in some lively conversation with a couple other passengers. For a while, even though he was near, he was outside of the conversation. He seemed quiet and patient like that, waiting to be invited in. 

Eventually I became more aware, turned to him and asked him how he was. Apologized if we were lacking awareness, being in loud conversation. He expressed it was no bother at all. We had a little more conversation which I wish I could remember better. In hindsight, he seemed quiet. Maybe too quiet. Perhaps holding a secret.

Before his stop, I shared about a community meal that was happening the next day, macaroni and cheese! He warmly and receptively said he might try to make it. 

A week later, I learned there was a vigil for him being held that evening. No further details known. Just that he had died.

Another week later, still no details, no news articles. Just wondering what happened, why we would never see him again on the bus, and why we would never be able to buy art from him, or have him over to paint chickens, or see him at another community meal. 

A conversation with another community member recently informed me, with little words or details, but a lot of unspoken feelings, that he had chosen to leave.

I’m writing this not because I knew Marty David well. I’m writing this because I wish I still had the chance to get to know him better. I’m writing this for anyone who is needing to see some words for him. For his surviving daughter. Also perhaps as a message of warning, that those we know or yet to know, can leave us at any time, and our last interactions were our last chance.

When I first learned of Marty David’s death I immediately thought of our last encounter, and felt a sense of regret, for not engaging and sharing with him better. I could have been warmer, kinder, more aware. I could have been a better friend in community.

My other intention with writing this is to ask the question . . . How do we keep Marty David’s art alive in spirit and available in his chosen home and community here, Port Townsend, his muse? It’s his good work and a gift of his soul. I hope Port Townsend may find a way to keep this safe and alive and loved.

In the days soon after I learned of his passing, I went to a t-shirt shop downtown and inquired if they had any of his art. I bought this card of his, it was the last one they had.

Rest peacefully Marty David, on the other side, around that unseeable corner. I hope you’ve been beautifully embraced in a healing place. You are and will be missed here.

Facebook Post: March 18, 2016

Kat Marie

This is very very late -

But to the anonymous person who wrote the Letter to the Editor in the JeffCoBeacon, about my father, the artist Marty David:

my family and I just wanted to extend a deep, heartfelt "Thank You."

Your words have meant so much to me and to us during this time. And it has felt important to be able to share your words and reflections with the people in my life, especially people who will never get to meet him. I think you captured my dad in such a beautiful and caring way.

Thank you thank you thank you..

Dove House Recovery Cafe

The Final Palette: A Community Memorializes the Unruly Spirit of Marty David

At the Dove House Recovery Cafe, the brushes are still wet with the legacy of a man who painted his way through the light and shadow of the Olympic Peninsula.

In the quiet, functional hallway of the Dove House Recovery Cafe, located in the maritime enclave of Port Townsend, a makeshift gallery has emerged. It is not curated with the sterile precision of a Chelsea white-cube space, but rather with the raw, textured poignancy of a life lived in the open air. This is the tribute to Martin “Marty” Justin David (1964–2026), an artist who spent his final decades proving that a shopping cart could be a studio and a community could be a canvas.

The memorial, positioned just past the cafe’s bustling main area, serves as a visual eulogy for a man whose presence was as permanent a fixture in town as the Victorian architecture he so loved to sketch.

A Heart Large Enough to Hold a Life

The centerpiece of the tribute is a striking portrait of David, framed by a broad, gestural heart painted in a defiant shade of red. David looks out from the image—clad in his signature cap and a weathered scarf made by his youngest daughter who committed suicide last September —with a gaze that suggests he is still observing the "typical northwest gray" he often praised. Below the portrait, the dates 1964–2026 mark the boundaries of a journey that took him from rodeo rings and Army Reserve drafting tables to the Victorian streets of Jefferson County.

Surrounding the portrait is an assemblage of community ephemera. A second white board serves as a "guest book" of sorts, covered in handwritten messages that speak to his impact. "We will miss you," one note reads; "Thank you for your art, for your life," says another. Interspersed among the text are photos of David in his element: sketching with a child, working in a cluttered studio, and standing amidst the tools of his trade. A small, vibrant painting of a green pine tree—roots and all—stands as a final testament to his evolving impressionistic style.

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The Tools of the Trade

Perhaps the most moving aspect of the memorial is the inclusion of David’s actual materials. A translucent bin overflows with acrylic paints, their caps smudged with the very colors that define the Port Townsend waterfront. Brushes of various sizes stand ready in a red plastic cup, and a smudged palette sits atop a yellow wooden stool, as if the artist has simply stepped away for a moment to check the light.

This tactile display echoes David’s own philosophy of "Artists at Work." He was a man who believed in the process—the "serotonin trigger" of creation—more than the finished product. To see his brushes here, in a space dedicated to recovery and second chances, feels like a deliberate nod to the role art played in David’s own life.

The Final Gift

While the tribute area captures the man, his work continues to speak from the walls. At the end of the hallway, a framed landscape—recently donated by David to the cafe—hangs in a position of quiet honor. The painting, a serene depiction of the natural world, acts as a "time capsule," a term David frequently used to describe his art.

In his final interviews, David spoke about wanting to "share what it’s like to be human." By leaving this piece to the Dove House, a place that serves those navigating their own light and shadow, he achieved that mission. The painting remains a window into the "essence of a thing" that David spent his life chasing.

For the patrons of the Recovery Cafe, the hallway is no longer just a path from one room to another; it is a reminder that even in the face of "unruly" circumstances, there is a beauty to be found in the spontaneous decision to stay, to paint, and to be seen.

Marty David memorial buttons are available
on top of the brown book shelf on the left under his portrait .