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THE MARK WILSON PROFILE

It’s a summer afternoon in June and the Mud Café on 9th street is loud. Across the table is Mark Wilson: a visual artist and pioneer of non-verbal storytelling. He’s never been to Mud, and truthfully, neither have I. We’re both taken aback by the deafening energy of the place: busy and moving and fast. Mark Wilson is the opposite of that. He’s calm, calculating the area around him, and thinking how best to answer his questions.


“What’s your least favorite question?”


Mark Wilson: 'Does Basquiat inspire you.' Have you gotten that answer before?


“No, answers I’ve received have been things like ‘What kind of music do you make? Where did you go to school? Are you a boy or a girl? They’re very specific. Why the Basquiat question?”


Mark Wilson: I feel like for a lot of Black artists, especially self-taught, it’s the first artist you’re shown. And three years down the line you’re still getting asked about it. I don’t paint anymore, but [someone] can see a sculpture and go, “Oh, does Basquiat inspire you?”

It’s like a basketball player being compared to Michael Jordan, you know what I mean?
 
I tell Mark about Villager: a painter from Baltimore who’s had their own fill of Basquiat comparisons, and Mark is listening carefully.

“Have you seen the Basquiat exhibit?”

Mark: No, but it’s interesting. [He shrugs.] I’m so busy that if I go see art, it’s an artist I know or because I bought an art book to see their full body of work.

“What do you like about art? How long have you been making it?” 
 
Mark Wilson: I’ve been making art for three years now. What I love about it is the freedom to express yourself, freedom in expression, say what you want, when you want. I just picked it up randomly, bought kids art supplies as a gift, which I ended up opening. Like a twenty-dollar kit from Wal-Mart? I used the materials myself and I’ve been making art since.

“You did an interview with Jennifer Hand, where I noticed you said, ‘I just assumed art was something anyone could do if you tried hard enough.’ Do you still feel that way? Has that sentiment changed at all?”

Mark Wilson: I feel like everybody’s an artist. I mean, I honestly believe anyone can do whatever they want. All it takes is practice, repetition, studying, finding what you like, applying yourself. [Asking yourself] how do you feel? I just feel like art is subjective, so it's the easiest one. We can all do it.

“I want to talk about your sculptures. I’ve been obsessed with masks since I was a kid, collecting and making them. Yours are really bold and maximalist - a lot of stories told in one piece. What role does storytelling play in your work?”
 
Mark Wilson: I think it’s everything. From the process to ending it with a title. [Mark pauses, rolling the question around in his mind.] Yeah, I feel like it’s everywhere. From start to finish, and then even when it goes off to its first exhibition. The stories don’t stop being told.


“It’s like a three-act play.”

Mark Wilson: Yeah! Like an arc.

“How do you feel at the end of those arcs?”

Mark Wilson: I can kind of see anything I want to see. But it won’t always translate into how it looks into the real world. When I finish my work I’m kind of like, what the fuck? Did I make that? It can kind of, not freak you out, but surprise you. 

“That’s my favorite kind of art. Something that looks a little off, unsettling, maybe even grotesque. Do you have any favorite artists?”
 
Mark Wilson: I do! There’s artists in Mexico who are just making things that are transcendent, artists around the world. I didn’t really study painters when I was painting. I found myself, in a way, elevating my practice by studying, researching, learning history. I follow women, Indigenous people, asking what stories they’re telling. It connects to my work and helps it grow. The artists are very intentional. 
 
“Have you heard of Yovksa? They make these wearable, outlandish, monster-looking sculptures.”

Mark writes down Yovska on his list of artists to check in on. He’s thorough and has created a system to keep track of his thoughts. I imagine it was this exact kind of strategic thinking that was tapped into when he moved from Virginia to New York just summers ago.

Mark Wilson: I’m settled in, I live with my girlfriend. It’s fun. We do something every weekend. This is new, we can come to the East Village now. Art has a rhythm to it, so it’s been fun. I like my job. 

“What’s your favorite thing about New York?”

Mark Wilson: I would say the people. I work with families, one from Ecuador, another from the Dominican Republic, the Caribbean. I’m seeing the culture inside the house. The food, who’s staying the night, the trips. The kids are trying to teach me the words. Where I live in Flatbush is like Little Haiti, Little Caribbean. I’ve tried the beef patty, the jerk chicken grilled outside. So, just different people are always exciting.
 
In Mud, there’s a woman to Mark’s right that keeps glancing at us. I can see her smiling from the corner of my eye, either eavesdropping or looking beyond us. She isn't distracting, but instead adding a thrill to an already important conversation.
 
It continues around us: these token distractions. There are men in the backyard shouting instructions at each other while their power tools cut through what sounds like steel. Through it all, Mark Wilson is present, listening, and communicative.
 
"Could you give me three words that describe you?”

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Mark Wilson: I would say I have an edge, so edgy? I’m smart. I’m on my toes.


“Okay, now how about three words that describe your creative process?”


Mark Wilson: Messy. Physical. Draining.


“Interesting! Why draining?”


Mark Wilson: Because the night before everything? I’ve done so many things. You see the finished product and I’m doing whatever I need to do to get there. The physicality, the traveling - whatever it takes. I’ll rest after. To go through that finish line takes, like, transfer work. Getting a U-Haul. Showing up on time. My girlfriend helps me a lot. Taking those masks up and down the stairs. Cook, clean, go to work. It doesn't stop. It’s all those little things.


“In a world that’s always changing, where do you see the art scene five, ten years from now?”


Mark Wilson: I mean, I see it the same. But I hope it changes in a way I don't even have the answer to yet. I’m still climbing the ladder. I’m not struggling, but I'm still learning.

Mark talks about what being a self-taught artist means for him. A balancing act in creativity, assuredness, and faith.

“Do you think there’s a difference between self-taught artists and, say, someone who went to school for it?”

Mark Wilson: Yes and no. Really, you grow the way you need to. Art is the result of the feelings you bring.

I tell Mark about a Twitter thread I found about the NFT scene in New York [by @anonsvoice] that described the unorganized work of NFT.NYC. Overall, NFTs seemed doomed to fail because of how it excluded not only New York City artists, but art communities at large.

“How do we make art more accessible for everyone?"

Mark Wilson: I don’t know why, but I'm gonna say it: it starts with money. Redirecting the funds. 
 
Collectors buying from communities of artists that they want to come out and be accessible. But like, I don’t even care if someone disagrees with that point, it still goes back to money. Where the money goes, intention follows.

“Why sculptures? Why masks?”

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Mark Wilson: I guess it just started with what was visually interesting. I like touching things. Even when I paint, I like to use my hands. When I made [sculptures] I realized I could do things I couldn’t do while I paint. I could do it faster, different. 
 
Then I started studying mask history, from how they were made to why, like Mardi Gras. It started with the relationship between the Indigenous who helped free enslaved people. Black people became ingrained in those communities. I find strength in those stories, ‘cause it shows we’re not alone. That type of brotherhood makes me love living in New York! To me, these different communities make me go “Let me learn. Teach me.” But I can also give, not just take. I just like that.

We move out of Mud to sit outside on 9th street. The sun hides behind some gray clouds and the air is cooler than before. 
 
Mark Wilson: When I was kid I was assured that I could do anything, and it’s because of God. I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to believe and show up. It’s never failed me. When I moved here, I had 200 dollars to my name. I’m not saying life is perfect but I’m healthy, happy. You might want to be the next Kanye West, but I’ve found peace in my journey. 
 
Mark Wilson: My brothers and I have

always been in competition, and my mom made sure we made A’s, were respectful, said thank you. I think those skills from my family show up in my heart and how I like to carry myself as an artist. 

We end up talking about Hereditary, Toni Collette, the United States of Tara, and how the posters for the new horror movie the Black Phone aren’t really scary to Mark. "I could have done that," he teases.

“You once said that as a self-taught artist: ‘I try to pull something out of every piece of art I see.’ What catches your eye the most? And how would you describe your work to someone who’s never seen it?”

Mark Wilson: Beautiful things. I call things cute, which my girl questions. [He laughs.] The Mardi Gras natives, when they make their suits, they’re beautiful. Elegant. The feathers, the pearls, beads. That striking beauty is really what gets people. They might not get it, [so] I might twist it in a masculine way for them to absorb it. That door didn't open for me as a guy until Black men were doing this. I was like “What the fuck? Y’all are beading? Sewing? Y’all have feathers in here?” Where I’m from you’d get a: “what are you doing?” 
 
Mark Wilson: For someone who’s never seen my work…I’d give them one of my playlists. It can go from Whitney Houston to Tierra Whack to a rock band to some Spanish music to a song without lyrics. That’s how I feel my sculptures can be taken as by a lot of people. 

“Have you made a playlist about one of your pieces?”

Mark Wilson: So, actually, my pieces have come from my playlists. [He laughs.] 


I’m fascinated by the idea of tangible art coming from a playlist. It’s genius, clever, fun. Mark can hear my excitement.  

Mark Wilson: I’ve made a playlist in the past and I’ll use the language like a poem. I have a playlist called 'Amulet Bodybuilders' about using the space around you to make the sculpture. I made it way before I started sculpting. It plays like a puzzle.
 
"I have one more question for you. Is there anything you’ve always wanted to be asked?”

Mark Wilson: Mm…not really. I’m a quiet person. If you’re good, I’m good. [He smiles.]


You can find more of Mark Wilson on his website: markwilsonjr.studio






written by ethan velez

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