The Ghost Is Always Me

Je M’appelle Macid does not separate himself from his figures. The ghost that pulls him into a painting always leads back to him.

In his work, the distance between the artist and the figure is unusually small. He does not invent a character and then step away from it. He enters the image with it. What first appears to be someone else gradually becomes impossible to separate from the person who painted it.

Based in Istanbul, Je M’appelle Macid makes autobiographical, figurative images without turning them into direct confession. His life enters the image indirectly, through figures that feel at once familiar and difficult to place. Our conversation begins with that distance, or the lack of it.

Your paintings are described as entirely autobiographical, and you say of everything that appears in them, “It’s all me.” When a figure enters a painting, what makes it part of your story?

You can think of it as a mixture of my subconscious and reality. I cannot make work unless a feeling comes first. When it arrives, it grabs me by the collar and drags me along like a ghost. But that ghost inevitably becomes me. In the end, we embrace and shake hands.

Fashion, music, cinema and human relationships influence you more than painting itself. What does it mean to be a painter whose main influences come from elsewhere?

It makes me feel free. Original too, according to some.

You describe childhood not as something left in the past, but as a source that continues to shape what you make. When a memory enters a painting, does it remain the same, or do you restage it?

A feeling from the past can be perceived and experienced differently each day. The sounds change, sometimes the words, the colours, the smells. They are all like birds flying around inside my head.

J. Macid is me. He is like an elegant devil and a naive angel, perhaps sometimes childlike at heart. But we are never two separate people.

Your figures seem to inhabit their own roles rather than simply pose. When you paint a figure, do you think more about who they are or the mood they carry?

Both. Who they are matters greatly, as does their state of mind: how they want to look that day, how they want to style their hair, what clothes they will choose, what music they will listen to, what they will drink, how they will do their makeup, even how much powder they will use.

Black sunglasses, a black dress, a bed. Certain images return again and again. When do you know that an image belongs to you?

When I feel it deeply. I am not drawn to things that are too cheerful.

Your imagery moves from paper and fabric into limited-edition prints, cards and everyday objects such as socks. When an image shifts between surfaces and contexts, does its meaning change?

It doesn't change its meaning. With the right collaborators, it becomes warmer and more intimate.

In your personal photographs and in your paintings, the gaze is often either hidden or intensely direct. For you, is looking a way of revealing yourself or protecting yourself?

That is a beautiful question and observation. I reveal myself either through a direct gaze, by not looking at all, or by looking from behind a curtain or through a haze. I suppose that is simply part of my character.

The figure seen in your photographs seems to belong to the same world as the figures in your paintings. Is Je M’appelle Macid simply a name, an extension of you, or has he gradually become a separate character?

I find it very interesting that people see me as a character or a figure. But J. Macid is me. He is like an elegant devil and a naive angel, perhaps sometimes childlike at heart. But we are never two separate people.

In your paintings, strength often takes the form of a character who, in your words, has “wiped away their tears and taken up their sword.” What makes a painting powerful for you?

I don't like cheerful things, but I don't like melodrama either. I like using fragility, but what I find powerful is a darker kind of fragility, one that is fierce and ultimately aggressive.

Where does the viewer stand in front of your paintings: as a guest, an intruder, a witness, or someone left vulnerable before the image?

It varies from person to person. I hear all of these responses. But what I hear most often is that people feel as though they are inside the scene, as if they were that person.

All artworks by Je M’appelle Macid. Images courtesy of the artist.