Mark Mcclure | Neatly Ordered Abstraction
Mark Mcclure is an artist who utilizes reclaimed wood to create precise geometric artworks. Check out the interview by Benjamin Murphy
Mark Mcclure is an artist who utilizes reclaimed wood to create precise geometric artworks. Using both painted and untreated woods; his works have a crisp yet raw feel that exist symbiotically to create an ordered and balanced work. Sitting somewhere between sculpture, collage, and painting, his work is best interpreted when viewed in its relation to Constructivism.
BM – You combine both old and new materials in your work. Does the history of the materials ever dictate the aesthetic of the piece?
Not really. I tend not to do things that way round. I choose the materials for their colour & texture - in the same way a painter might choose from a selection of paints or charcoals. Texture, colour, and any remnants of past use - all contribute to a pretty broad palette. If I’m after specific textures or remnants to use - then I might stain the wood to adjust the colours slightly - but the history of materials never really takes priority.
BM – There is a conflict between form and functionality, which do you think takes precedent?
It’s interesting that you’ve preloaded the question suggesting that form and function are independent of each other. To me it’s all a sliding scale depending upon the context of a piece.
If I’m creating a wooden mural then it would automatically adopt the function of a wall surface - whilst also being an artwork. If I put a hinged door in a sculpture - it becomes a cupboard of sorts. It might be a bloody expensive & abstract cupboard - but it’s still got the potential to be a cupboard. It’s down to the context of the artwork - who owns it, how they perceive it, probably how much they paid for it as well.
BM – You have mentioned to me before that you would identify yourself as a constructivist. The Constructivists believed that the true goal was to make mass-produced objects. Your work is very hands-on, how would you feel about others making it for you?
The Constructivists had their own in-fights over the ideas of mass production. The likes of Rodchenko straddled the worlds of art & design - whilst others such as Naum Gabo believed in a purer approach that didn’t cross over into function. For me that goes back to the sliding scale & context of the artwork.
But mass production is a different beast to having other people involved in making artworks. The Uphoarding wall I created at the Olympic Park last year involved up to about 10 different people over a 10 month period - and in the future I’ll make artworks in materials I will never have time to master myself - concrete, metal etc. - So it’s inevitable that others will end up producing some of my work.
BM – Would it still feel like your artworks if you didn’t get your hands dirty?
Yes - but without the emotional attachment that comes from being so involved at every step - an attachment that probably stems from the craft side of things. They’d be put on a different shelf in my mind - but they’d still be mine.
BM – What makes the Constructivists artists as opposed to craftsmen?
Many of them were craftsmen - in that they strived to be masters of their materials - producing clothing, design objects etc. with a view to targeting a consumer market. Others had less tangible, idealistic aims - challenging or celebrating aspects of the world they lived in - expressing feeling and emotion etc. and I guess that’s what makes them artists.
BM – The Constructivists’s aim was to make artworks that force the viewer to become an ‘active viewer’, how interactive is your work and do you intend for it to be touched?
Interaction is really important and working in such tactile materials has meant that it’s hard not to touch a lot of my work - which is totally cool. I love the idea of artworks in galleries being more playful and interactive - though interaction doesn’t always have to involve touch. This is something I’m going to play with more this year…. some exciting ideas on the cards.
BM – When you clad the floor or a wall, do you see this as a two-dimensional or a three dimensional piece?
2 dimensions. I’m not too sure where the tipping point is - probably somewhere around 4 inches thick.
BM – Is collage then 2D or 3D? Would you say your work is a type of collage?
Potentially both - can we invent dimensional fractions here & now? 2.3 dimensions? I wouldn’t say my work right now is collage… though it has been. Collage to me is more layer upon layer than piece by piece - and involves a lot more glue.
BM – What exciting future projects are you working on?
A nice mix right now - a large bespoke floor and a few other fun pieces towards the ‘function’ end of that sliding scale we mentioned earlier - and also some new artworks for exhibitions & fairs over the summer. I’m also exploring some materials to add a new aspect to my work later this year. Some busy & exciting months ahead.
More of Mark’s work can be seen online at www.markmcclure.co.uk
Beauty in Desolation: Photographer Florian Ruiz
French photographer Florian Ruiz captures life at its most remote, his subject matter strikingly distant from society as we are accustomed to seeing it in the Western world.
From a harrowing exploration of prostitute’s rooms in the series Two star hotel to a study of Japan’s abandoned radioactive roads in Lost Highway through Google Earth, French photographer Florian Ruiz captures life at its most remote, his subject matter strikingly distant from society as we are accustomed to seeing it in the Western world.
Aiming to express the atmosphere, feelings, and sensations of desolate locations, Ruiz demonstrates a propensity for locating people and places with backstories just as interesting as the pictures that result from his studies:
“I try to capture the in-between, life at the margins, and borderlines of lives and places.”
Ruiz’s portfolio has a distinct Eastern flavour, with galleries compiled in China, Mongolia, Pakistan and various locations in Japan available to view on his website.
Fukushima, Invisible Pain, a series of photographs which took second place at the Sony World Photography Awards 2013 (professional conceptual category) visually communicates the stillness and ghostly tension that surrounded the eponymous prefecture after the 2011 nuclear disaster; moving comfortably across a variety of photographic styles, Ruiz demonstrates the creative use of a pin hole camera on long exposure in this particular series, making for evocative, eerily distorted compositions.
Exploring similar themes to those found in his Fukushima studies, Brezhnev’s Gift is an insight into the lives of Mongolia’s Erdenet inhabitants, their existence poised between dreams of a better life and the reality of the unsustainable mining activity the town they choose to inhabit was built upon in the 70s. Ruiz’s images hint at the futility of everyday life, a poignant lethargic stasis looming over every shot; the viewer is left unsure whether to admire or weep for the resilience of humanity.
Ruiz’s most recent study tells of the lives of those dwelling on the borders of China’s major cities, a collection of images as colourful and eclectic as the subjects they present; entitled Borderlands, the series juxtaposes scenic panoramas with a mix of intimate and action-filled portraits, paralleling life and the landscapes on which it transpires.
Ruiz has been published and exhibited widely since 2005, regularly popping up in photography magazines and journals, including a spot in the 2010 British Journal of Photography; he currently lives and works in Tokyo.