Trackie McLeod Shares a Raw Take on Queerness, Class, and Culture at Fruit II 

In his first London solo exhibition, Trackie McLeod weaves masculinity, shame, and identity into a rich, multi-sensory experience

GALLERY PHOTOGRAPHY Brynley Odu Davies

In a cultural landscape shaped by resistance and reinvention, Trackie McLeod stands out as a voice unafraid to interrogate identity with humour, grit, and style. Hailing from Glasgow, McLeod’s work is steeped in class consciousness and queer perspective, combining fashion, DIY aesthetics, and subversive storytelling to form a visual language that feels both deeply personal and unmistakably political. His distinctive take on his own identity resonates with a generation trying to find clarity in the noise of late capitalism, social media, and cultural erasure.

Now, with the opening of Fruit II at The Bomb Factory, McLeod continues to expand this conversation. The exhibition explores queer identity, shame, and masculinity through an evocative blend of textiles, screenprint, sound, and sculpture, offering an immersive experience that invites both reflection and rebellion. 

In a candid conversation with BRICKS, McLeod opens up about the roots of their creative practice, the power of cultural memory, and why irony remains a vital tool for self-expression in a world that often demands performance over authenticity.

Your art is unmistakably Glaswegian but also taps into universal themes. How do you walk that line between the local and the global in your storytelling? 

Very nonlinearly. The themes I look at are based on what I’m interested in at the time. Just so happens that recently, Scottish linguistics has felt like a good mode of transport. In terms of global, I reckon my audience is more UK-based, but who knows in the future? 

There’s a strong 90s/00s visual identity in your work; what is it about that era that resonates so deeply with you? 

These were my formative years. I believe everyone has an era, for example, the way my mum talks about the ’60s and ’70s: “you had to be there.” We are all just products of a decade that shaped us, which filters down into our interests and tastes. I read recently that ’90s kids are the last generation that remembers a childhood before the internet’. I loved that, we were a generation on the cusp of change. 

I read recently that ’90s kids are the last generation that remembers a childhood before the internet’. I loved that, we were a generation on the cusp of change. 

With rising far-right extremism in the UK – attacks on trans rights and the growing Reform Party – social media often mocks and scapegoats working-class communities, ignoring middle and upper-class influence. How does your work challenge these stereotypes, especially during political unrest? 

I think the role of my work is to open up the conversations. I’ve touched on these themes therapeutically as a way of addressing my own experiences of toxic masculinity, repressed sexuality and mental health issues. In terms of the broader dialogue, the way I’ve approached these heavier themes using tongue-in-cheek imagery and humour, hopefully makes the work more palatable and easier to digest, leaving nobody behind. I’m unsure if art can fully solve the problems we face in society, but if my work can get folk talking, then it’s a start. Then we bring down the patriarchy. 

I’m unsure if art can fully solve the problems we face in society, but if my work can get folk talking, then it’s a start. Then we bring down the patriarchy. 

With your exhibition Fruit II, how do you navigate representing working-class life in a way that feels authentic to your own experience, without the aesthetics coming across as parody or appropriation?

I’m working from lived experience. I try not to think too much about how it’s coming across. As long as you’re speaking your truth, that’s authenticity at its heart. Tell YOUR story. Scottish folk are raised on taking the piss, it’s our love language. So I play with parody, to sometimes humorously exaggerate the point. Humour is universal and, for me, inclusive.

Art spaces can often feel elitist or inaccessible. How does Fruit II challenge that? 

As someone who hates openings, I always have my private view as an open-door policy. Consciously creating more of a party with DJs and beers to counteract the standard stiff gallery way. Art for everyone. I also believe taking art out of the gallery space is important. I’ve recently collaborated with Build Hollywood to showcase my new design ‘Boys Play‘ which is displayed on billboards across the UK for the coming weeks. Showcasing work in the public realm excites me, it’s more raw, people who don’t enjoy art get to critique it, view it, photograph it, deface it. 

What do you most want Fruit II to communicate, and what lasting impression do you hope it leaves on viewers?

I hope it communicates the complexities of growing up queer. The joy of nostalgia. The celebration of millennial culture. But above all, I want folk to have a good time. 

Fruit II is showing at The Bomb Factory from 22nd May to 11th June. Find more information here.  

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