Check Out Eric McGrew’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Eric McGrew

Hi Eric, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I’m going to do my best to share my history of art and life, where I came from, and who I am. This is a challenging topic because art, design, and product development have always been part of my life; I don’t remember ever starting. I do recall being very young and drawing basic shapes. According to my parents, I started drawing as soon as I began learning to write, using pens and pencils. While most kids scribble with crayons or markers, I just never stopped and continued to grow from there.

I was particularly fascinated by Warner Brothers, Hanna-Barbera, and Disney cartoons from the 40s to the 60s. Their unique and modern aesthetics captured my attention. Some of my favorites are still The Flintstones, The Jetsons, and the vibrant backgrounds of Roadrunner. I loved cartoons that featured modern structures instead of those with a more traditional aesthetic.

As I grew older, I continued to draw and copy what I saw on TV. At the same time, I developed a passion for mechanical things, which led me to take apart and reassemble whatever I could find. My parents weren’t well off, so tearing apart appliances was not ideal in their eyes. Surprisingly, I had a knack for it, often taking things apart and putting them back together, though not always successfully. This tendency caused some trouble in my household.

Life continued to change, and my interest in the mechanics of things deepened. I found I couldn’t do anything without analyzing it—extremely so. Eventually, my parents learned that I had ADHD, which was not very well understood at the time. My form of ADHD wasn’t characterized by hyperactivity; instead, my brain was constantly buzzing with ideas and interests, making it challenging for my parents to manage.

I was also born with cerebral palsy, which in the early 80s was not fully understood, and there were few systems for therapy. Thankfully, my parents took doctors’ advice seriously and worked hard to provide me with the physical therapy I needed at home, even when they couldn’t afford it through rehab facilities. There was a time when it was believed that my condition would limit my ability to lead a normal life, predicting I’d be confined to braces and wheelchairs by age ten or eleven. Fortunately, that didn’t happen; the dedication of my parents’ , along with my sister, kept me motivated despite my inclination to avoid the pain of progress. Today, I function as a normal person.

I mention these challenges because I believe they have influenced my creativity in significant ways. It’s speculated that the impact of cerebral palsy on my brain—caused by a scar on my brain—has shaped how I think and express myself creatively.

As I continued to grow, I explored various creative stages, including graffiti art and screen printing, leading to graphic illustration. I even dabbled in anime and manga-style drawings. This was also when the internet and graphic design software like Illustrator and Photoshop were emerging and gaining popularity for the masses . I trained in these programs during my studies at the Art Institute of Atlanta, where I focused on graphic design and multimedia.

For a while, I gravitated toward clean, linear pieces of art where each line was perfectly straight. If something went wrong, I used knives and straight edges to correct it, which heavily influenced my current art style. After years in printing and signage design/fabrication and being convinced web development had the highest potential in terms of income, I strived to be a corporate designer/web developer. However, it just wasn’t for me. I never enjoyed school much, so I chose a two-year degree over longer programs, like interior design, which I also found intriguing. In hind sight, I wish I had explored interior design further, as I feel my art career has aligned more with interior design than just about any other form of art.

During my studies at Art Institute, I found myself focused on illustration and sign making while dabbling in different artistic pursuits.

After leaving Art Institute, There were periods when I created dozens of paintings in just a few months, only to disappear from the art scene for months or even years. During those times, I was still creating but not in traditional formats—I painted hot rod cars, restored vintage Vespa scooters, and built furniture, all of which involved elements of art and design, but being more consumer and business in focus.

Navigating the Atlanta art world was challenging. I struggled to find a space that accepted my rapidly growing and changing style. In the end, I decided to step back from the art world and shifted my focus to the corporate realm, where I thrived using my creativity in negotiation strategies. I enjoyed crafting narratives and using psychology to help people make decisions—molding and convincing them without negative manipulation.

After a number of years in the corporate life, my wife and I decided to relocate to Chile for semi-retirement for roughly eight years. While we worked, our focus was not on full-time jobs. Living in Chile exposed me to a unique culture and economic systems that presented distinct challenges for artists. However, it also allowed me to explore furniture building to a greater degree, and access materials that had been difficult to obtain back home.

For the first time, I had an outdoor workspace, enabling me to build furniture and sculptures at my own pace, significantly reducing costs. Though tools and funds were limited, I embarked on ambitious projects using basic power tools, focusing on designs that could withstand everyday use. To my surprise, this approach worked well, and I became increasingly focused on furniture, object art, and product development for home decor.

In Chile, I collaborated with others to develop new products, whether importing or creating them locally. My skills in working with three-dimensional objects flourished, and I spent much of my time refining my welding and fabrication techniques. This led to new art forms and styles integrated into my sculptures and furniture. Though I left most of my furniture in Chile, the lessons and experiences stayed with me when we returned to the U.S. in 2016 and moved to Colorado.

Since then, I’ve continued to work with illustration and develop skills in concrete and wood. I create everything from daily household objects to fine art pieces hand-carved from various woods, alongside furniture and architectural accents for homes. After running an arborist company for seven years, I found the workforce challenging to maintain and decided to return to art as my primary focus. Now, I collaborate with local contacts in the forestry community to craft art, furniture, and decor using sustainably sourced materials for waste prevention and community benefit.

Today, I work as a freelance designer, sculptor, artist, and furniture builder, creating high-end, modern products that enhance everyday life with unique, sustainably sourced items.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
My journey in the art world has been anything but smooth for me. My interests span extreme degrees, making it challenging to stay motivated to produce just one style of work. Unfortunately, this leads to misunderstandings about my creative direction. When I shift to a different style, people often think that my previous works are no longer valid or that I can’t go back to them.

This misconception has made it difficult for me to find consistent clients and maintain relationships with galleries. When I change my artistic focus, it’s not that I’ve abandoned my past work; rather, I’m exploring new techniques and reshaping my designs for the future. I wouldn’t describe myself as an artist tied to a single style or method. Many of my friends and fellow creators call me a renaissance man.

However, being a renaissance man comes with its challenges. I tend to progress faster than many expect, which often leads to me being perceived as inconsistent. This is incredibly frustrating because I can be consistent when necessary. Yet, when it comes to self-expression, being overly consistent stifles my creativity and prevents me from producing my best work.

It’s tough to convey this to others when their perspectives don’t align with the way my mind works. My creative process is fluid, and while I understand the need for consistency in some contexts, I also believe that true artistic expression thrives on exploration and change.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I tend not to feel overly excited or proud of any one thing I create. In my mind, everything can be better, and with enough time and resources, all things could be enhanced. However, time, money, and patience—both mine and that of my clients’—set the limits within which I have to work.

My work is heavily influenced by various design styles, including Bauhaus, Art Deco, mid-century modern, and industrial design. Over the years, I’ve learned to incorporate illustration styles from modern graphic design, graffiti, mid-century modern abstract, brutalist, Polynesian, and tiki aesthetics. I primarily use concrete, steel, and wood as my main materials, though I sometimes mix in plaster and vibrant paints, adding texture and color.

Most of my products are one-of-a-kind creations, and I strive to use sustainably sourced wood local to the areas where my clients are or where I live and work. I take pride in creating three-dimensional standalone objects that serve as both sculptures and act as functional home decor. While I recognize that art can be expensive and sometimes fragile, I aim to design pieces that are more useful in daily life than merely beautiful objects.

I’ve always been more enthusiastic about functional art—pieces that serve a purpose, like furniture or storage—because they add multiple levels of value to a home or environment. I find the intersection of design theory and functionality fascinating, especially when it comes to creating sculptural pieces that also serve practical roles.

One of my greatest sources of pride is my ability to transform wood, often considered trash, from the local area in Colorado into stunning sculptures. Whether these are purely aesthetic three-dimensional pieces or functional objects that enhance the home, it’s rewarding to take materials that people typically discard—like Russian Olive, Cottonwood, and Siberian Elm—and turn them into beautiful works of art. By doing so, I not only provide beauty and function but also challenge the perception of what these materials can become, and what are acceptable uses for them?

We’d love to hear about how you think about risk taking?
Risk-taking is an integral part of my artistic journey. While I could recount various business ventures and the financial risks that accompanied them, the most significant risks I face as a creative stem from embarking on new projects and experimenting with innovative techniques. Embracing these challenges is something I relish, especially when it comes to serving my clients.

Of course, this process sometimes means starting over, and depending on the circumstances, I may end up dedicating more time to a project than I initially planned. Thankfully, these extended efforts rarely come with additional costs for my clients. I see it as part of my commitment to pushing the boundaries of art—exploring new materials and working in unconventional ways.

Recently, I’ve been focusing on developing furniture using thinner concrete and nontraditional materials. I also enjoy working with woods that are often considered lower quality in the woodworking world, transforming them into high-quality, beautiful products. Understanding the engineering and limitations of these materials allows me to create unique and original pieces.

For me, risk is a daily occurrence in my craft. Each day presents an opportunity to innovate, and I embrace that wholeheartedly. After all, art thrives on the willingness to take chances.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/erics_mid_century