August 2025 Unicorn Of The Month: Marc Alain
While I do enjoy collage, I would not necessarily call myself a "collagist" or a " collage artist." Much like previous people here, Marc is member of Netvrrk. I learned about him well over a year ago from an accountability group that I am a member of, but due to my stupid day job, can never attend any of the meetings. I do however watch all the recordings. Thank you Barbara.
Marc is a"collagist" with a Capital C. To say that he uses a "Maximalist" approach in his color and compositional choices would be putting it mildly. Much like the work of James Rosenquist, Marc's work is a feast for your eyeballs to the point of being gluttonous, but in a beautiful way. I knew immediately that I wanted to feature Marc here, but it has taken some time to get here. We artists are busy people. The work featured here is outstanding, but I highly encourage you check out more of his gorgeous collages HERE.
1. Tell me about you as a person. The name in which you prefer to go by. Where are you based? What are your origins, where are you from, etc.?
Professionally, I go by my first and middle names, Marc Alain. I grew up in a very small rural town in Northern New Jersey where as a child I hid my middle name because anything different made you a target for ridicule. My middle name is French, given to me by my half French mother who passed away when I was young. As I got older and moved away from New Jersey, I decided I needed a fresh start and took on Marc Alain for my art. It became both a way of honoring my mother's memory and embracing a part of my identity I had concealed as a child. I later discovered it also bumped my name to the top of alphabetized lists—an unexpected but welcome perk.
2. How long have you been practicing art professionally, when did you consider yourself a real artist?
Creativity flowed through me from an early age, finding its focus in art classes. Though my drawing and sculpting skills were decent, photography became my passion in high school, where I captured candid moments of my friends through the lens. As an anxious introvert who tried to stay invisible from the bullies, I was absolutely stunned when my classmates voted me "Most Artistic" Senior Year. Their unexpected recognition gave me permission to claim my identity as an artist. It was validation I hadn't realized I needed, opening a door I might have never walked through otherwise. I've been making art my entire life, but I would say I didn't pursue my own career until the pandemic.
3. Did you go to art school? Tell me about your training, formal and informal.
I attended the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, where I majored in photography and minored in video. This was at the tail end of the golden age of music videos when visionaries like Michel Gondry, Chris Cunningham, and Mark Romanek produced groundbreaking work. Their ability to translate music into visual narratives deeply inspired me.
As my studies progressed, photography increasingly captured my imagination. I discovered a natural affinity with Photoshop, finding satisfaction in compositing and retouching my images. After graduation, I moved to New York City, where I pieced together a living through part-time art handling and photo studio work while securing internships with photographers David LaChapelle and Ryan McGinley.
I joined McGinley's team as he began his influential road trip series, photographing models across America's landscape. What started as an assistant position evolved into a role as his studio manager—a position I held for over a decade. This arrangement proved invaluable for my own artistic development; after hours, I had access to professional equipment and studio space that would have been financially out of reach, allowing me to cultivate my personal photography practice in ways that would have otherwise been impossible. I met so many talented and creative people who influenced my thinking.
When the pandemic began, I left New York City and returned to the rural New Jersey town where I grew up. This shift in environment brought an unexpected revelation: I was deeply burned out—not just in photography, but in city life itself. As I reconnected with the natural world, I found my creative inspiration increasingly drawn from it. This clarity led me to make two pivotal decisions: leaving New York permanently and deliberately stepping away from photography as my primary medium in favor of cut-and-paste collage.
Photography is a very collaborative process, and during quarantine this was not possible. I decided to try collage—a photo-adjacent medium to get my creative fix. I fell in love with the cut and paste creative process. The tactile experience of cutting materials and working with my hands, finding peace in the methodical nature of the craft. Each collage artwork demands significant time and attention, with some pieces taking up to a month to complete. This slower pace has allowed my ideas to evolve and deepen, resulting in work that feels more layered and meaningful.
5. Who are some of your art inspirations? What are some of your non-art inspirations?
For inspiration I find myself always coming back to Hieronymus Bosch, Otto Dix, Francis Bacon, the surrealists, and the Hudson River School of Painters. More recently, contemporary creators like Hugh Hayden, David Altmejd, and Pippa Garner have deeply influenced me. Aside from artists, nature, especially the Northeast feeds my creativity. Whenever the weather allows, I try to get outdoors reconnecting with the world around me.
In recent months, my inspirations have taken a turn, likely influenced by the current political climate and personal challenges I've been navigating. The current body of work I’m making is rooted in my nightmares. For about six months, I’ve been focusing on remembering my dreams, and it's true: the more you practice, the better you get at it. Interestingly, about 95% of my dreams are boring and unusable. Every once in a while there will be one that stand out in its sheer terror and perplexity, perfect for this series I'm developing.
6. When do you know when a work is finished?
This is a hard one. As a maximalist I suppose my definition of "finished" is quite simple: when there's no space left to add another element, that's when I know a piece is complete!
7. Tell me about your process when working. Do you listen to music or do any rituals to get yourself ready to make art?
The pre-production phase is about sourcing materials. I search through thrift stores for books and magazines, instinctively pulling anything that captures my attention. When I have a specific vision in mind, I search for related imagery online, and more recently, I’ve started creating them with MidJourney. With collage you are only as good as your source material.
Once gathered, everything gets printed, cut, and carefully sorted into categories for later use. During the arranging and gluing phase, music is always playing, setting the rhythm of my work. On long days, I’ll mix things up by listening to a podcast or letting a movie play in the background.
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8. What are the meanings and the concepts behind this particular body of work?
The collages I shared span from the start of the pandemic to the end of 2024—a time of profound global change and uncertainty. This body of work reflects our basic need to connect with nature, even as modern life pulls us away from it. These pieces celebrate nature's beauty by creating safe spaces to escape when the world feels overwhelming. They also weave together themes of love, lost innocence, and suffering, capturing the emotional ups and downs we all experience. In these works, nature becomes both a symbol and a source of healing, offering a sense of steadiness and calm amid the chaos.
9. What do you want viewers would take away from your work?
I hope these pieces resonate with those who see them. More than anything, I want people to take their time with them, uncovering new details with each look. Like a powerful film that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll, I hope this work leaves a lasting impression—a subtle shift in how we see ourselves, the natural world, and one another.
The creative process is full of self-doubt; I can be my harshest critic. The best moments come when strangers interact with the finished work, framed and carefully displayed in the bright, clean exhibition space. I’ll linger nearby, listening in on candid conversations with people who have no idea I’m the artist. Sometimes they’re brutally honest, even talking shit—but it’s in those raw, unfiltered reactions that the real impact of the work is revealed.
10.What are your biggest goals as a visual artist? And what has been your proudest moment professionally?
Fully supporting myself through art is one of my biggest goals. I’ve learned that creativity alone isn’t enough to build a career. I’ve had to push myself to master networking, marketing, and business-savvy skills—none of which come naturally to me. It’s been a constant hustle, a new challenge every day.
Living close to New York City allows me to visit the art scene. It helps me stay connected to contemporary trends and draw fresh inspiration. I have a list of galleries I dream of showcasing my work someday.
An important milestone came when I applied to Chashama, which led to a group exhibition in Chelsea. It was a fantastic opportunity to collaborate with three fellow artists I deeply admire. We were given complete creative freedom and access to a spacious gallery—at no cost. The exhibition marked my official entry into the professional art world. It taught me the power of collaboration, the significance of unrestrained creativity, and the art of letting go.
Professionally, I go by my first and middle names, Marc Alain. I grew up in a very small rural town in Northern New Jersey where as a child I hid my middle name because anything different made you a target for ridicule. My middle name is French, given to me by my half French mother who passed away when I was young. As I got older and moved away from New Jersey, I decided I needed a fresh start and took on Marc Alain for my art. It became both a way of honoring my mother's memory and embracing a part of my identity I had concealed as a child. I later discovered it also bumped my name to the top of alphabetized lists—an unexpected but welcome perk.
2. How long have you been practicing art professionally, when did you consider yourself a real artist?
Creativity flowed through me from an early age, finding its focus in art classes. Though my drawing and sculpting skills were decent, photography became my passion in high school, where I captured candid moments of my friends through the lens. As an anxious introvert who tried to stay invisible from the bullies, I was absolutely stunned when my classmates voted me "Most Artistic" Senior Year. Their unexpected recognition gave me permission to claim my identity as an artist. It was validation I hadn't realized I needed, opening a door I might have never walked through otherwise. I've been making art my entire life, but I would say I didn't pursue my own career until the pandemic.
3. Did you go to art school? Tell me about your training, formal and informal.
I attended the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, where I majored in photography and minored in video. This was at the tail end of the golden age of music videos when visionaries like Michel Gondry, Chris Cunningham, and Mark Romanek produced groundbreaking work. Their ability to translate music into visual narratives deeply inspired me.
As my studies progressed, photography increasingly captured my imagination. I discovered a natural affinity with Photoshop, finding satisfaction in compositing and retouching my images. After graduation, I moved to New York City, where I pieced together a living through part-time art handling and photo studio work while securing internships with photographers David LaChapelle and Ryan McGinley.
I joined McGinley's team as he began his influential road trip series, photographing models across America's landscape. What started as an assistant position evolved into a role as his studio manager—a position I held for over a decade. This arrangement proved invaluable for my own artistic development; after hours, I had access to professional equipment and studio space that would have been financially out of reach, allowing me to cultivate my personal photography practice in ways that would have otherwise been impossible. I met so many talented and creative people who influenced my thinking.
4. What is the medium(s) that you prefer to work in and tell why?
When the pandemic began, I left New York City and returned to the rural New Jersey town where I grew up. This shift in environment brought an unexpected revelation: I was deeply burned out—not just in photography, but in city life itself. As I reconnected with the natural world, I found my creative inspiration increasingly drawn from it. This clarity led me to make two pivotal decisions: leaving New York permanently and deliberately stepping away from photography as my primary medium in favor of cut-and-paste collage.
Photography is a very collaborative process, and during quarantine this was not possible. I decided to try collage—a photo-adjacent medium to get my creative fix. I fell in love with the cut and paste creative process. The tactile experience of cutting materials and working with my hands, finding peace in the methodical nature of the craft. Each collage artwork demands significant time and attention, with some pieces taking up to a month to complete. This slower pace has allowed my ideas to evolve and deepen, resulting in work that feels more layered and meaningful.
For inspiration I find myself always coming back to Hieronymus Bosch, Otto Dix, Francis Bacon, the surrealists, and the Hudson River School of Painters. More recently, contemporary creators like Hugh Hayden, David Altmejd, and Pippa Garner have deeply influenced me. Aside from artists, nature, especially the Northeast feeds my creativity. Whenever the weather allows, I try to get outdoors reconnecting with the world around me.
In recent months, my inspirations have taken a turn, likely influenced by the current political climate and personal challenges I've been navigating. The current body of work I’m making is rooted in my nightmares. For about six months, I’ve been focusing on remembering my dreams, and it's true: the more you practice, the better you get at it. Interestingly, about 95% of my dreams are boring and unusable. Every once in a while there will be one that stand out in its sheer terror and perplexity, perfect for this series I'm developing.
6. When do you know when a work is finished?
This is a hard one. As a maximalist I suppose my definition of "finished" is quite simple: when there's no space left to add another element, that's when I know a piece is complete!
7. Tell me about your process when working. Do you listen to music or do any rituals to get yourself ready to make art?
The pre-production phase is about sourcing materials. I search through thrift stores for books and magazines, instinctively pulling anything that captures my attention. When I have a specific vision in mind, I search for related imagery online, and more recently, I’ve started creating them with MidJourney. With collage you are only as good as your source material.
Once gathered, everything gets printed, cut, and carefully sorted into categories for later use. During the arranging and gluing phase, music is always playing, setting the rhythm of my work. On long days, I’ll mix things up by listening to a podcast or letting a movie play in the background.
.jpg)
8. What are the meanings and the concepts behind this particular body of work?
The collages I shared span from the start of the pandemic to the end of 2024—a time of profound global change and uncertainty. This body of work reflects our basic need to connect with nature, even as modern life pulls us away from it. These pieces celebrate nature's beauty by creating safe spaces to escape when the world feels overwhelming. They also weave together themes of love, lost innocence, and suffering, capturing the emotional ups and downs we all experience. In these works, nature becomes both a symbol and a source of healing, offering a sense of steadiness and calm amid the chaos.
9. What do you want viewers would take away from your work?
I hope these pieces resonate with those who see them. More than anything, I want people to take their time with them, uncovering new details with each look. Like a powerful film that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll, I hope this work leaves a lasting impression—a subtle shift in how we see ourselves, the natural world, and one another.
The creative process is full of self-doubt; I can be my harshest critic. The best moments come when strangers interact with the finished work, framed and carefully displayed in the bright, clean exhibition space. I’ll linger nearby, listening in on candid conversations with people who have no idea I’m the artist. Sometimes they’re brutally honest, even talking shit—but it’s in those raw, unfiltered reactions that the real impact of the work is revealed.
10.What are your biggest goals as a visual artist? And what has been your proudest moment professionally?
Fully supporting myself through art is one of my biggest goals. I’ve learned that creativity alone isn’t enough to build a career. I’ve had to push myself to master networking, marketing, and business-savvy skills—none of which come naturally to me. It’s been a constant hustle, a new challenge every day.
Living close to New York City allows me to visit the art scene. It helps me stay connected to contemporary trends and draw fresh inspiration. I have a list of galleries I dream of showcasing my work someday.
An important milestone came when I applied to Chashama, which led to a group exhibition in Chelsea. It was a fantastic opportunity to collaborate with three fellow artists I deeply admire. We were given complete creative freedom and access to a spacious gallery—at no cost. The exhibition marked my official entry into the professional art world. It taught me the power of collaboration, the significance of unrestrained creativity, and the art of letting go.
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