Words by Tegan Jaimie
Featuring Trackie McLeod
Photography by Marilena Vlachopoulou & Bethany Grace
Assisted by India Gill & Hannah Gordon

Trackie Macleod isn’t one to be put in a box. Self-proclaiming to be ‘pretty chaotic’, he has his Sun, Moon and Rising to thank for that – double Aries and a Virgo Rising for those who want to ask, Trackie’s art is multifaceted and while refusing to be pigeonholed, taps into that nostalgic-induced culture rabbit hole of the zeitgeist. “I struggle with artists who limit themselves to one medium – I’m too sporadic. It’s like having a full box of crayons and only using one colour but each to their own. I’m easily excited by new ideas and potential mediums – unsure if it’s a blessing or a hindrance because I’m probably quite hard to market and employ but I can worry about that when I’m 40.”

On the theme of sentimentality, Trackie recalls his childhood “I think it’s hard to look back at your early years without looking at it through rose-tinted glasses. With that in mind, I’d probably describe it as ‘hearty’ like a pure good Sunday dinner with an Irn Bru float for dessert”. As a Glasgow school of art graduate he pays homage to his early years “I reckon I was just the average messy wee guy who enjoyed pens, stickers, alien goo and things that could ruin furniture indefinitely. My interests varied like my attention span (still true) but my ‘creative energy’ wasn’t something I channeled into any direction until I was much older.”

Trackies’ anthropological work blends a documentary narrative of growing up as queer and working-class in Glasgow with a social criticism lens of pop, lad, and subculture. He is refreshingly frank and doesn’t take himself too seriously yet finds balance between a nuanced approach to social commentary on the hypermasculinity and gentrification of today with a tongue-in-cheek sentiment. 

The buoyancy of this transpires through his name; Connor to his mum, Trackie to us. He explains the origins of this alias, “It was a joke at an afters in 2014 about how I used to always bring a spare trackie with me because I knew I was out for the long haul (thanks Mark Thompson). But I guess thanks to social media I’ve been able to use it to brand myself and I suppose it’s a part of the work I make in some way? ‘Trackie’ allows me an alias to make more honest work. But it isn’t some Sasha Fierce shit don’t worry.” His art is intrinsic and tackles the generational gap of missing mental health support for men who struggled to openly talk about their feelings due to lad culture being rife.

When asked about the Scottish creative scene he has affixed to, Trackie is equal parts appreciative and honest about the hindrances it has “I think the Scottish creative scene now relies on creatives going off and doing their own start up, I’m lucky to know a lot of really talented people who have their own small businesses that keep the creative scene here fresh and flourishing. Otherwise, job-wise? Three years since I graduated – I now see why people migrate to London.” Juggling his creative work while maintaining a job in retail, Trackie is on the fence about seeing the 90s and early 00s trend coming full circle again. “I love and hate it at the same time. I sell Von Dutch hats and Juicy Couture trackies to tweens who haven’t even heard of ‘The Simple Life’. But aye seeing Y2K come round full circle having lived it the first time around makes me feel nostalgic but also old. For me, the trend isn’t a fad but once it’s filtered down to the High Street sales, we’ll be on to dressing like it’s 2010 – bring back shutter shades and The Klaxons.”