The Mysterious Third

Renowned for his hand-embroidery and mask-making, the Iceland-based artist James Merry has frequently collaborated with Björk as a co-creative director on her visual output and has workedwith institutions and individuals such as the V&A, Gucci, Tilda Swinton, and Iris Van Herpen. Drawing inspiration from the ever-changing qualities of the natural world, Merry’s work explores the interconnectedness of humans and nature. We met to explore how the meditative process of embroidery alters realities and how masks can offer deeper insight into identity and personality.

hube: Humans have long viewed the natural world as more than a physical realm. Across time, engaging in dialogue with nature has been associated with the idea of connecting with eternity; of establishing a relationship with something greater and more profound than one’s self. What are your thoughts on this?

James Merry: I think my connection with nature is not so much about the eternal, it’s more about trying to integrate the human back into nature, placing us inside of it rather than above or outside of it. I have always been fascinated by artefacts and forms that somehow exist between human and animal, animal and flower, etc. A lot of my favourite works of art exist in those ambiguous spaces between identification or classification. So when I do reach out for a conscious connection with nature, it isn’t so much a sense of timelessness that I am looking for, but actually the opposite: I tend to fixate more on the ever-changing, mutable qualities of the natural world—the cyclical, evolutionary, or metamorphic aspects. I like observing how things mutate, how things decay. Perhaps for me, integrating these natural elements into my work is more about getting close to the spirit or essence of a thing and attempting some sort of delicate merge with it. 

h: Masks are often associated with transformation and mysticism. Aside from altering our appearance, they can also affect our inner world. Do you think about this when you’re creating your masks? And do you think a mask can exist without a person?

JM: I usually try to turn off the analytical part of my brain while I’m creating a mask, I prefer to let my hands and eyes do the thinking. Afterwards, I will begin to decipher what has emerged and will try to figure out where it came from. A few of my recent masks were made differently, I went into the studio with a more conscious intention. With the Alopex masks I was very consciously trying to create an arctic fox character. But that was a very unusual approach for me, I don’t normally have a clear reference in mind when working, I just see what emerges. 

Whether a mask can exist without a person is a very interesting question, one that could take me a lifetime to answer. I have been bumping up against it a lot recently when exhibiting my pieces in museums. Some of my masks seem to work really well when displayed alone as an object, while others can’t seem to access their power without a human face behind them. I think this is exacerbated by the fact that I design a lot of my masks to look like they are growing out of the face, rather than being placed onto it, so having them exist alone feels a little like uprooting a plant from its soil.

h: Hidden worlds are an important part of Icelandic mythology. Your projects with Björk provide the audience with a unique opportunity to explore alternate realities. How would you characterise the connection between human and nature within these realms?

JM: In general, the mission is usually to conflate or collapse those two things, and by doing so, create something new. Human and nature subtly combine, via a mask, to form some mysterious third. I would say that my overall view, technically and philosophically, is that a mask should act as a two-way conduit, so it reveals and hides at the same time. Having worn my masks over the years for photo or video shoots, I have experienced this myself. As someone who is usually quite shy, it can really shield you from the awkwardness of being seen, but at the same time make you much more visible, and in doing so reveals something much deeper about yourself or your personality that might not be evident with a naked face. Walking that tightrope between the inner and outer world is probably where any mask succeeds or fails. It cannot reveal or obstruct too much, but rather than find the sweet spot in between. 

h: Disappointment is an inevitable and unavoidable part of life. Can you recall any significant setbacks that you have encountered? How did they affect your work or personality?

JM: Oh yes, I’ve had lots of accidents and have messed things up and had to start again. But luckily, I have only ever really had myself to blame (or witness) these accidents. Up until now, I have made everything myself. I do not have an assistant or team, so I embroider or sculpt, or 3D-model everything myself. I think that has probably helped me escape too much disappointment or drama, since it makes me responsible for my own successes and failures. The moments that have affected me the most are when I have encountered the wider fashion industry… I could probably do 12 TED Talks on the various forms of maltreatment from big stylists who contact you with no time, budget, or general sense of artistic connection or sensitivity. I don’t particularly like or feel at home in the fashion world or the art world, so each time I encounter them it usually just convinces me more and more that I will be happier becoming a hermit craftsman making peculiar objects alone in a shed at the bottom of my garden. 

h: Each of us, whether consciously or unconsciously, constructs our own image. Clothing is an essential tool in this endeavour. Colour, style, and cut become part of our dialogue with society. What is your relationship with fashion?

JM: I feel like I’ve only just started to properly define that part of myself. I have quite specific tastes, so in the past I was probably too self-conscious to wear what I really wanted to wear. But living in a safe society like Iceland, where eccentricity feels less like putting a target on your back, has definitely given me more freedom to do that. I have actually started making a lot of clothes for myself over the last few years. I will pick up fabric while I’m on tour, usually wools or old corduroys, and then have them made into a uniform shape that I have slowly figured out for myself. I love stuff that has a historical or handmade feel to it, but with some sort of hiking-techno practical edge. Like if a fancy Tudor lady was going camping, lol. That actually probably sums up my desired style quite well. I’ve been buying loads of stuff the last few years from an amazing designer called Fred Redman in London, whose label Seeing Red is so brilliant—independent and punk but with a weird historical sense of shape, and made with really nice functional materials.