In the latest edition of our interview series, we once again dive into the world of minimalist aesthetics. In inspiring conversations with creative minds from the fields of architecture, design, and art, we explore how they are guided by their vision and how they express it in their works. Along the way, they provide us with interesting insights into their creative process and reveal how they perceive and shape the world. This time, I had the pleasure of having an inspiring conversation with James William Murray.
James William Murray (b. 1988) is a British artist living and working in Brighton, UK, and Heiloo, The Netherlands. His works explore the iconographic, symbolic, and indexical potentialities of form, process, and material. Touch, trace, desire, loss, and bodily fragility are central themes, with the memento mori and the theological concept of the relic recurring as key points of reference. Using minimal gestures, Murray merges formal objectivity with subtle lyricism: handprints fade on fabrics, graphite creates distorted mirror-like surfaces, and brass frameworks depict crosses breaking free from their structures.
In this interview, James and I delve into the fundamentals of his creative process. We explore his connection to minimalist aesthetics, the influence of spirituality, and the tactile nature of his work as both a physical and emotional exchange.
Hey James! It’s a pleasure to talk to you about your work today! Please tell us, how would you describe your art to someone who has never seen it?
Hello Sarah, thank you for your thoughtful questions. My work involves formal and conceptual gestures spanning painting, sculpture, and photography. I tend to work in series and draw from a ‘family’ of materials that are applied in various combinations, including beeswax, graphite, linen, and different types of timber, as well as metals such as steel, copper, brass, and silver.
The work reflects upon the sensuality and fragility of the body through the materiality of artistic medium. I often use my own body as a kind of template or formal point of reference, simply because it is the thing that is most readily available, and therefore feels like a logical starting point. The memento mori and the theological concept of the relic are also recurring points of reference.
In recent years, your artistic expression has continuously evolved, but your reduced way of expression remains a consistent thread in your work. What particularly attracts you to minimalist aesthetics?
I’m interested in the overlap between minimalist and classical aesthetics in terms of their shared formal concerns with harmony, proportion, restraint, and clarity. I apply these principles to my work with both abstract and figurative forms, which I don’t see as a binary or opposing force, but part of a continuum.
Your work is characterized by touches, markings, tactility, and materiality. How does this physical aspect influence your personal relationship with your artworks?
I’m less attached to individual pieces than to the overall process of making art, which has an accumulative effect. Touch is a reciprocal exchange — everything we touch touches us back. Sometimes those interactions leave physical marks; other times, they create internal, psychological impressions. Either way, the work marks me as much as I mark it.
You spent a significant part of your childhood near a convent. How did this time shape your perspective on spirituality and art?
Throughout my formative childhood years, I lived in a house next to The Priory of Our Lady in West Sussex, where my mother worked caring for the Sister nuns. From the vantage point of adulthood, I recognize what a significant impact that environment had on my sense of being and belonging as a child.
There are certain parallels between devotional practices and the way of life I witnessed at The Priory, and the way I approach art making as a life-long vocation. I would also add that the reverence for touch and materiality in sacred rituals resonates with my thinking around my work and I continue to draw from Catholic symbolism and iconography, both visually and conceptually.
I’m interested in the overlap between minimalist and classical aesthetics in terms of their shared formal concerns with harmony, proportion, restraint, and clarity.
Which part of your creative process do you enjoy the most, and why?
The fleeting moments when I feel an intense connection between my materials and body are special, but rare. And so, I find the most satisfaction in the quiet, routine rhythm of my studio practice. Recently, I moved to Woodingdean, a village near Brighton on the South East Coast of England, where I’ve built a work space and viewing room next to my house.
A deck runs above part of the building, and on dry days I enjoy working outdoors, immersed in the surrounding chalk Downland. This is a stark contrast to my former city centre studio, which looked out onto a very busy traffic intersection. I love working here — it feels like a natural merging of my domestic and working life.
Your monochrome graphite paintings create intriguing complex textures that reflect and distort light. Can you tell us more about how you create these works and how you embrace the distinct quality of this material?
My graphite paintings are an ongoing series I’ve been making since 2016. The process involves layering liquid beeswax and graphite powder onto timber, canvas, and linen surfaces, burnishing by hand between each layer. This builds depth and reflectivity in the graphite, intensifying the visual texture of the wood grain or fabric weave beneath.
Graphite is a pure form of carbon with an elemental link to diamond, yet it is soft and malleable. Its unique quality of absorbing and reflecting light gives the surfaces a shifting presence, which is affected by the environment around it, so I consider it an active, spatial material. It is also one of the earliest materials humans and our ancient ancestors used to make marks, and I believe that this deep-seated connection to the material can still be felt.
Art is always a dialog between the artist and the viewer. What kind of dialog do you wish to start?
Work focused on the visual representation of touch holds significant potential as a dialogical starting point because it is so central to the human experience. However, I’m not interested in dictating the nature of this dialogue. Once the work has left my studio what happens between it and the viewer is out of my hands.
What are you currently working on, and what are your plans for the future? Are there any subjects that you would like to explore further
I’m currently working on a series of works on paper made with copper particles suspended in oil. I use the material to capture fleeting impressions of touch in motion. These will be my focus throughout the winter as I make my graphite paintings outdoors during the warmer months.
The fleeting moments when I feel an intense connection between my materials and body are special, but rare.
Thank you so much, James!
https://www.jameswilliammurray.com/
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