Michael McGregor: Not Perfect, but Perfectly in His Place
Michael McGregor speaks in color pencils. Capturing the beauty behind daily life objects —from a Pellegrino bottle to a Salsa Valentina — the L.A.-based artist has turned his work into a lively and pure visual diary.
We talked to Michael about style, color, finding new ways of expression, and portraying a person depicted through objects.
Georgina: How did your first approach to art happen? Tell us about your beginnings as an autodidact artist.
Michael: I did a lot of visual art as a kid but at a certain point directed my energy more toward music, writing, publishing, and other cultural endeavors. In 2015, I was feeling really tired and uninspired by the state of things in Brooklyn; I had taken up drawing casually that summer, and in September 2015, I moved to Mexico City, a place I’d been visiting regularly for a few years, through my friend Jeronimo Jimenez, a Chilango who I hosted a radio show with in Brooklyn. When I got to Mexico, I thought I’d keep working on music, but I drifted away and found myself sketching and making watercolors, and trying all sorts of things out, finding a new groove of expression that felt more innocent and pure than anything I was working on in NY. So I just kept following that feeling.
Georgina: Some of your paintings and drawings make me slightly think of some of my favorite modern artists such as David Hockney, Richard Diebenkorn, or even Henri Matisse. How did the process of developing your current style happen?
Michael: Those are some of my favorite artists! They share similar motifs — still life, interior, landscape, very traditional genres throughout art history but each has their own unique style and variance of styles throughout their careers, yet their touch is unequivocally theirs. They each have a soft but profound way of configuring the world around them — using color to punctuate moments in life. Working in still life, I’m always trying to focus on capturing the quieter moments in everyday life, yet render them in a way that feels magical, slightly surreal, or almost animated, yet remains still. Diebenkorn and Hockney and Matisse all do that well, and it’s something I’ve always marveled at. Diebenkorn and Hockney are both artists with deep ties to California, and that’s something I find inspiring, I feel a real kinship with their worlds.
Georgina: What else inspires your art?
Michael: Everyday beauty. Things that are not perfect, but perfectly in their place. Weaving narratives out of unlikely visual touchpoints. Storytelling but leaving enough up to chance where the viewer can create their own narrative.
Georgina: What can you tell us about your creative process?
Michael: I try to work every day, but I vary what I do. I spend a lot of time in the studio, but I spend just as much away from the studio, traveling, getting lost in moments, and collecting visual inspiration. A lot of my work stems from my travels, mixed with different themes I’m noticing in my visual research. I just got back from 3 months in Greece, where I had a small studio on the island of Corfu, and spent my days swimming and reading, and walking about. During that time, I happened on the work of John Craxton, a British ex-pat who spent most of his adult life in Greece. Craxton’s taverna scenes, in particular, along with my own life in Tavernas, have been a major source of recent inspiration, and a great example of when life and art history come together to help inspire new work.
Georgina: Your artworks portray the beauty and stories behind daily life objects. Which are some of the objects that, no matter how “simple” they are, speak the most to you?
Michael: Flowers, always. It’s the most beautiful, selfless gift you can give someone. And they have a unique way of changing the scope of any scenario.
Oysters and crustaceans. These hard-bodied shells have something hidden inside them. There’s something sensual and mysterious about oysters and crustaceans and other mollusks. How could something that tough-looking be so delicious, divine, and delicate? They’ve been staples in still life painting since the 1600s. They’ve captivated artists and gourmands, nourished prisoners, and been prize possessions of the elite. That history and diversity makes me think they are somewhat of a universal truth, something I try to convey in my work as much as possible.
Georgina: Having grown up in Mexico City, I am very curious about your time living in this capital. What motivated you to move here? Did this city influence your art? What can you tell us about the art scene?
I went to Mexico City after cultivating a friendship with a group of chilangos over the course of 2-3 years. Initially through my friend Jeronimo Jimenez, a DJ and electronic musician who I co-hosted a radio show with in Brooklyn. He and I would travel to the city, and I became tight friends with his group of friends, eventually moving into one of their apartments.
After spending most of my life in the New York City area, moving to Mexico shifted my entire perspective on everything, but particularly on Color in everyday life. New York is all shades of grey, but in San Rafael, the neighborhood where I lived, out the window, I could see a blue house, a pink house, a yellow house, and palm trees. All sorts of colors illuminating the day. That was a major inspiration and influence on my perspective, and my eyes started to shift, and it’s something I continue to use as a great inspiration.
Kitchen (Salsas). Acrylic and oil on Linen. 58x40inches (2017).
Georgina: In an interview with It’s Nice That, you mention that for “the past 500 years the subject matter of still life hasn’t changed that drastically, but stylistically it has evolved like mad.” Can you tell us more about this idea?
Michael: Still life as an artistic genre has generally revolved around portraying objects from life. Flemish still life, some of the earliest, evolved around possessions, displays of wealth, and signifiers of class stature. Fruit, flowers, wine, all of these things were gathered to show a glimpse of a family; almost a portrait, through objects. While subject matter and meaning have shifted, still life, for me, still retains that quality of portraiture of a person, or people, or a feeling, depicted through objects. You can tell a lot about someone by what they surround themselves with.
Georgina: What role does fashion play in your work?
Michael: Fashion is both silly and exciting, but style and color are very important in my life, and when I find fashion that plays with classical notions of tailoring and traditional forms, mixed with vibrant, energetic forms, I really get excited. I like getting dressed, but I tend to wear the same thing to the studio every day. An old Brooks Brothers button-down shirt, cut-off shorts, or jeans, depending on how hot it is in LA.
When I see pieces that really resonate with me, they often slip into my work. I’ve done lots of drawings in my free time of Marni sweaters, Gucci loafers, LOEWE sunglasses. Occasionally they slip into a painting, or a pattern influences a palette in a larger work. Fashion is just another way people tell their stories, which makes it very similar to art for me.
Georgina: What’s next?
Michael: I’m finishing up work right now for a solo show in January, at Hashimoto Contemporary in Los Angeles.