Describing himself as a “material collaborator and process inventor,” my recent visit with George Ian McMahon (Ian) to see his solo show at Philip Johnson’s Wolfhouse in Newburgh was a highlight of the season. Before meeting in person, I was intrigued by seeing videos of the artist destroying his large-scale installations. He later explained that destruction has been an important aspect of his artistic process of invention through a “shifted relationship with the object.”
Upon arrival at the Wolfhouse, the first McMahon I encountered was Swiss Cheese Breeze Block (2024). Akin to its title and installed against the landscape, thus began my charming see-cool-art-in-a-fabulous-famous-house experience. Featuring 37 works installed throughout the home, this atypical presentation offered a rare opportunity to encounter McMahon’s singular sculptural style set within Johnson’s marvelous abode. Working with light, plaster, wood, steel and shrink-wrap to create abstract pieces with a mid-century modern appeal, McMahon’s art is a flawless complement to the Wolfhouse ambiance.
Organized by Shawn Tang (creative director for the Wolfhouse property), McMahon’s show is the first be featured at the so-called “stepchild” to Johnson’s famed Glass House in New Canaan, Connecticut. (Both homes were built in 1949). If you are familiar with the unsavory details of Johnson’s life story, then we agree that personal histories are sloppy. Nevertheless, Johnson’s Wolfhouse is a landmark residence located above the Hudson River and is now host to temporary exhibitions and specially curated programs.
During his youth, McMahon was an avid skateboarder and he built custom skate ramps, which he cites as a formative influence with respect to his continued investigation into the limits—or unlimited potential—of form. He studied sculpture and did his BFA in ceramics at Alfred University, and he later moved to Newburgh for the ample studio space available there. When McMahon described his creative process, he mentioned his love for raw clay and his choice to get rid of the kiln, effectively creating a “rule set” for his ongoing explorations of the medium to find novel ways for clay to be itself. McMahon spoke of “problem solving backwards” as his way of designing new models for the same materials.
McMahon’s focus on inventing novel shapes goes something like this: he fashions an armature and then inflates or shrinks a plaster membrane around it, creating original organic-looking objects that defy their skins (and for as many times as he detailed the process to me, I cannot accurately put it into words). He spoke enthusiastically about his discoveries as we encountered his white-hued artworks all around, including a gangly, abstract Line Dip (2023) sculpture on a glass table and a bulbous Tri Bub Trips (M) (2025) piece in the dining area.
Many of his artworks seem as if they were designed for the Wolfhouse (a perfect match) or as if they were already a part of the decor (a harmonious aesthetic). His Tripedal (2023) table in the living room area, for example, is a smooth concrete work that accents the austere domestic environment. The mighty Puff Bench (2024) consists of a solid chunk of wood supported by two pillow-like puffs on each end and positioned against a bed, while his square Spike Grid (2022) accented the area over the bed in another room. Tippie Toes (2023) reaches upward in a sexy samba-esque motion, its angular reach simultaneously serpentine and slanted. When we stopped to look at Half Hoop (2025) above the fireplace, McMahon pulled off one of the magnetic pieces that create this piece to show its versatility.
After my visit I emailed with Tang and McMahon about the status of the Wolfhouse through the rest of the summer, and it seems the show is still open for by-appointment visits through August 19 (see their website for more information). A combination of installation, sculpture, and furniture with class, McMahon’s show at the Johnson’s Wolfhouse is a vision of artistic co-existence at its finest.
