MEMBER FEATURE:

Our monthly Member Feature aims to showcase the talent that occupies our buildings and celebrate their work.

This month, we had the pleasure of interviewing Rockella Space Member Christopher Malarick. With a studio at One Eyed Studios, Christopher is a photographer and designer whose practice merges street observation, environmental study, and a deep sensitivity to place. After moving to New York in 2018, he picked up a camera with no formal training—an impulse that quickly grew into a disciplined artistic practice shaped by influences such as Joel Meyerowitz, Garry Winogrand, and Vivian Maier. What began as an instinctive way of documenting daily life across Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens evolved into a richer investigation of photographic neutrality, perception, and the constructed nature of the image.

As the city transformed during the pandemic, so did Christopher’s work. He shifted from focusing on human presence to examining its traces—capturing the textures, atmospheres, and subtle imprints of lived experience embedded in streetscapes and natural environments. This shift paralleled his time summiting the 35,000-foot peaks of the Catskills, where he found resonance between urban observation and wilderness immersion. Today, his practice spans street photography, environmental imagery, studio work, and commercial photography, all connected by an interest in feeling, presence, and the emotional registers that linger in the spaces we inhabit.

Influenced as much by sonic experimenters like William Basinski and Felicia Atkinson as by photographers such as Richard Mosse and Gregory Halpern, Christopher approaches image-making as a form of deep listening and patient observation. His work remains a personal tool—one that mirrors the world back to him while helping him understand the interior shifts that shape his vision. Through his images, he invites viewers to slow down, pay attention, and sense the quiet magic that exists just out of view.

To learn more about the creatives who call Rockella Space home, head over to the People page for a full list of in-depth interviews.

Who are you and what do you do?

My name is Christopher Malarick, and I’m an artist based in Brooklyn, New York, where I’ve lived for the past 10 years. I was born and raised in the suburbs of Massachusetts. I briefly attended the University of Massachusetts to pursue a poetry degree before dropping out at the end of my first year and moving to Boston. In 2018, a few years after moving to New York, I bought a camera and began developing a photography practice. Overtime, my approach to photography has evolved, but It remains a deeply personal one that serves as a tool for making sense of my enviroment, At the end of 2024, I bought my first sewing machine, which has added a new dimension to my creative practice – sewing tends to a different part of my drive, providing a respite from the more psychological elements of my photo work.

How long have you been at Rockella Space, and what is your favorite thing about having a studio at One Eyed Studios?

I’ve had my studio at One Eyed for about 9 months. At 36 years old, this is my first studio, and it’s been incredibly liberating having a space dedicated to my creative practice. I live in Bushwick, so the location is really convenient, but the slight remove from my daily life requires that I intentionally build out time in my week to make art. I find this motivating, and it encourages me to take my practice more seriously.

Have you connected and/or created a community with any other artists in the building?

I participated in open studios shortly after moving in. I met a few of my neighbors and had a chance to talk to visitors about some of the projects I’ve been working on, but I really wasn’t set up at the time. I feel like I’m just starting to settle in—arranging my work station, hanging prints on the walls, and developing my routines. I’d love to meet more people in the building, host them in my space, and learn about their practices, too.

What does having a dedicated space at One Eyed Studios mean for your creative process? Has it changed how you approach your projects?

It’s been pretty transformative, to be honest. Having a dedicated space for my sewing practice keeps me organized and focused. And while most of my photo work happens outside of the studio, being able to hang and sequence physical prints helps me find the aesthetic and conceptual themes in my work that are important to me. I’m also really interested in exploring more studio photography.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

Tell us about your work. What inspires you to do what you do?

With photography, I use my camera as a tool to understand something about myself, the people around me, and my environment. Seeing and registering an image with my camera, then returning to that image in the editing and sequencing processes, offers me a lot of opportunities to investigate my own motives and observations. The sewing projects are a bit easier to square—I love designing things, I love solving problems, and I love using my hands. Each time I start a new project, I have to figure out how to convert the shapes in my head into a pattern that is usable, which feels like a logic puzzle. Then I get to have the fun of actually building it.

You describe photography as a “tool to investigate the world outside and within.” How did this dual exploration shape your transition from photographing people to photographing environments?

Photography, for me, has always acted as a mirror, and it has been one of the single most important tools for learning about myself. Following a broader discourse centering on the power differential between photographer and subject, I’ve come to understand that there is no neutrality in the image-making process. Over time, as I amass images and view them in aggregate, I can start to see patterns emerge and questions to follow. Who or what are you photographing? What are the power dynamics at play? What are you trying to get at and for whose benefit?

Alongside those thornier questions, I’ve become more and more interested in exploring the mode of street photography through the streets themselves, looking at the city as an echo of its inhabitants. I think we can learn a lot about people by looking at what they make, how they arrange their environments, and how those environments reflect habitation.

Both your photography and design practice seem rooted in observation and experience. Do you see parallels between making an image and designing functional gear?

I’m sure there’s a tether somewhere between the two, but my photography and sewing practices feel separate to me. Both derive from a desire to work through a specific problem, but they’re two distinct projects.

What drew you to the tactile process of sewing and designing outdoor gear after years of working behind a camera?

I really love working with my hands, and I really love puzzles and problems. There is a tactile nature to both sewing machines and cameras —and the editing process, to a degree—so I think that’s something that attracts me to both.

Your work references artists like Joel Meyerowitz and Tehching Hsieh—figures who approach time and presence differently. How do these influences manifest in your practice today?

Joel Meyerowitz was a big influence early on—I came across the catalog for his Out of the Ordinary: 1970 – 1980 exhibition at Jeu de Paume in my early twenties, before I ever had a camera, and it was the first photobook that really made me want to pick one up.

The work of Tehching Hsieh has profoundly shaped my understanding of what an art practice can be. Certainly his performance work is concerned with the passage of time, but equally with dissolving the distinction between art and life. His approach to art and life gave me permission to view myself as an artist—something I struggled with for years, in the face of more conventional definitions.

Face Fabriqué grew out of your personal need to create gear that fit your lifestyle. How do your years of trekking in both natural and urban environments inform your design decisions?

In both the mountains and the city, I like to travel as light as possible while keeping the things I need at hand. I have a closet full of gear that I love—packs for winter snowshoeing overnighters alongside daypacks with laptop sleeves, and a whole shelf of tote bags. What I want to do with Face Fabriqué is design gear that strips a lot of the specificity away, and gets to the essence of how I want to move through space.

You mention striving for the “optimal balance between form and function.” What does that balance look like for you in practice?

I want to design thoughtful gear that is intuitive to use with fabrics and forms that serve a purpose and look harmonious.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

What role does sustainability—or longevity—play in your design process, given the durability implied in your gear?

It definitely plays a role—I am extremely selective about the materials I work with, opting for light and durable fabrics like Dyneema composites and laminates. Both because I want to build bags that can stand up to whatever use case they’re designed for, and because I think the way those fabrics show wear is really beautiful—like the way copper or leather patina over the years. But the other side of that is the acknowledgement that nothing will last forever. There’s a Japanese denim designer based in Osaka that makes really hard-wearing jeans, but on the underside of their rivets, embosses “the impermanence of all things”. This has always really resonated with me—even the beautiful things we build will someday fade. That’s just part of the process.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

Can you talk about the SOMMET pack as your first production piece? How did it evolve from concept to prototype to final design?

Pretty much all contemporary ultralight backpacking packs are based on a very simple design first popularized by Ray Jardine. My first prototypes were pretty generic and based on packs that I had used or looked at. Through a lot of testing, I tweaked shape, dimensions, and features. I made things more complicated and then made them simpler again. As happy as I am now with where things have landed, I’m sure I’ll continue tweaking things as I learn more.

Do you see Face Fabriqué as a design brand, an art project, or a merging of both worlds?

Somewhere in between the two. I think of Face Fabriqué as a brand—I’m designing products that are meant to be used—but the process, from R&D to production, feels like a creative exercise.

You’ve spoken about photographs being “just as constructed as sculptures or paintings.” How has this realization changed the way you approach making an image? to invite anyone alive or dead to a dinner party, who would be on your guest list?

Pretty drastically. When I first started making images, I was chasing after ‘the decisive moment’—trying to capture an essential truth of life as an observer. Over time, I found that I was far more interested in documenting the expression of many moments over time in a fixed scene. I still carry my camera around with me everywhere I go—I rarely preplan a photo—but when I see something that I want to capture, I take my time.

What did photographing the Catskills mountains teach you about presence, absence, and human impact on the landscape?

I am interested in how the traces of human life in any environment reveal a collective understanding of how we move through space and time. Most of the peaks on the 35,000 club in New York feature maintained trails with signage and maps, but some of them are bushwhack peaks, meaning they’re not maintained. It is still possible to find paths, developed by many people treading the same ground over time, that take you where you want to go. And often from the peaks you can hear the whirling of cars in the distance, or spot their lights at night. I make images in the wilderness the same way I do in a built environment—my concern is still how the human touch can be felt, only the context is different.

How do your experiences moving through different terrains—both urban and wild—affect your visual vocabulary as a photographer?

I’m still developing my visual vocabulary, so it’s constantly evolving and reacting to the environments that I’m in. Regardless of where I am, I’m drawn to the textures or evidence of the forces that shape the space, so there’s a throughline there. This is one of the areas I feel most benefits from having a studio space–sequencing and hanging my work has helped me identify and hone a lot of that shared vocabulary to build a project.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

You’ve mentioned sound-based artists like William Basinski and Felicia Atkinson as influences. How does sound, or the idea of listening, intersect with how you make images?

Looking and listening, for me, are the same thing. My practice is deeply observational. When I look at images that I’ve made, I can often hear and smell, and feel where it happened. My hope is that my images can pass along an essential portion of that experience to someone who wasn’t there.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

Whether in the studio, the streets, or the mountains, what does a “day of making” look like for you? How do you move between these different modes of creation?

It can be kind of hard for me to move between the modes. When I’m sewing, I tend to get completely consumed. When I’m behind a camera, it feels much more woven into how I move naturally.

If you were to invite anyone alive or dead to a dinner party, who would be on your guest list?

Pauline Oliveros, William Basinski, Gram Parsons, and Laaraji.

Photo Caleb Ferguson

What would you say to artists from similar backgrounds who dream of moving to New York and building a career in the art world?

I can’t speak to a career in the art world—I work for a Japanese tea company—but I’ll say that I absolutely love New York with all of my heart.

Where can people see your work in IRL or online, and how can people contact you for a studio visit?

My photography website (christophergmalarick.com) has selected images from my ongoing project Deep Listening on the Infinite Plain, as well as some of my commercial work.

Facefabrique.equipment is where people can see some of my bag designs. I’m a bit resistant after kicking the instagram habit a couple of years ago, but I am trying to share more work digitally—my personal account is y2kwasaninsidejob and facefabrique is my brand.

I’d love to host people for a studio visit!

DM me or shoot me an email at contact@christophergmalarick.com