Material Components: Wholesale Warehouses for Wizards

An interview with Kevin McGillivray

Does each painting in the collection have its own story, or do they connect to one another in some way? I'd love to hear more about the process behind creating this series—did you collect these materials yourself, or are they symbolic in some way?

All of the materials were foraged from my garden and neighborhood. I like to go out and collect things and then imagine replacing them where I found them with the painting version, now wrapped in marble and gold, so that the next person might forage a whole painting. Every square foot is a potential foraged painting, but you have to put yourself in a position to notice. It makes me wonder what the "original" is—the subject or the painting—and how much of a sense of life I can make in the painting. It's like those old folktales or sci fi stories about people being kidnapped and replaced with a replica.

For this collection I wanted to show subjects that were found and not made, and that were generated by an organic process. I also looked for objects that are similar sizes so they would all work together as multiple compositions on this canvas size. The last criteria is that they’re something a forest witch might carry around in her pack just in case they’re needed.

When we moved to our home last year, it was the first time we had a small garden of our own. We’ve enjoyed an entire year of watching the garden, getting to know the plants and animals, and beginning to make adjustments to it. There’s a wooded ravine that runs through the neighborhood and behind the house, and nearby there’s a community farm that used to be a golf course. We've spent a lot of time trying to identify neighborhood plants and trees, asking questions, and getting to know everything.

We had access to green space previously, but having a small plot of our own has been transformative. I think everyone needs a place of their own, their own studio, or their own room, or their own garden–any kind of space that they are free to move and act (or not) as they wish. Access is a starting point, but people also need agency, freedom to have a relationship with their environments in the way that feels meaningful to them, reflects their preferences, and helps them see the wholeness of the environment. Too often people don't have that opportunity and when that happens it's like a part of us is missing. It's like yeah we need to "touch grass" but we also need to feel like the grass knows us. Magic isn't about forcing our will on the environment, it emerges from the whole thing. If you're not careful you might trade that intimacy and agency for so-called low maintenance luxury, and I really don't want that.

And that’s the theme of these Components—I don’t want a painting to be a packaged, sealed off object of luxury. People want to enchant their own lives, and I want these paintings to be a component of that. I play a lot of D&D and there’s a game rule about spell components, materials needed to cast a spell or make magic. So I think the materials in these paintings hold that quality that would allow you to cast a spell of enchantment, to imbue your day with contemplation or encouragement or wonder.

The idea of your work being something people could 'forage' or use to enchant their lives is such a powerful image. How do you see the role of the viewer in interacting with your paintings? Do you envision them taking on their own kind of spell-like meaning depending on the person’s context, or is there a certain message you want them to take away?

It’s hard to know how to relate to a painting, what to do with it. Am I supposed to feel intensely moved with emotions whenever I see it? Am I supposed to preserve it carefully and worry about any harm that might damage it? I like to see them more like tarot cards–objects that prompt contemplation, alternative ways of looking, new insights, that change over time and in different contexts. Seeing a painting once in an exhibit or every day in a home are different kinds of relationships—a single glance at a statue can change your life in an instant, and daily companionship with a canvas can be an encouraging friendship. Either way I hope people see these paintings and they’re reminded of that quiet desire they haven’t fully acknowledged, the thing they really want to do but think they can’t. I hope that voice gets a little louder. I hope they go try it out.

I love how you see your work as evolving with the viewer over time. Are there any specific symbols or elements in the Components series that you feel people might interpret differently based on their own experiences?

The tree materials were collected from trees that I consider to be my friends. I think most people have a tree friend, that tree they always notice on their commute, or the one they climbed as a kid, or the one that made them want to move to their home. Maybe people will be reminded of their favorite oak, maple, or ash tree, or of their family or friends.

Do you feel a sense of collaboration with these trees when you create, like they’re active participants in the artwork, or is it more about your own relationship with them?

My relationship with trees is meaningful to me as a human in a way that it can’t be for the tree. But that doesn’t mean they are ambivalent or lacking any awareness of a relationship. I believe trees have a sensory field, and you can sense that field yourself. I think paintings do too. From one angle it’s just about my own relationship and enjoyment of their beauty, but from another paintings just emerge when there are trees and people living together.