Bill Miller makes pictures from a material most people have only known beneath their feet.

Bill Miller, Birthright, 2026, Vintage linoleum collage, 23.75 x 23.75 inches, Courtesy of dieFirma

By MARCARSON September 15th, 2026

Bill Miller makes pictures from a material most people have only known beneath their feet. Working with salvaged vintage linoleum, he builds collages in which the patterns and wear of domestic life meet the histories of American industry. Ahead of Spanning Time at dieFirma, Marcarson asks him about the pieces he chooses, the places that keep returning, and what the material might remember.

MARCARSON: You work with old linoleum that already has a life before you find it. What makes you want to use one piece over another?

BILL MILLER: I have been accumulating linoleum for decades, so my process always includes an exploration of available options. Sometimes a remnant suggests something—smoke, foliage or water. Other times I’m looking to solve for a particular need…a piece with printed detail that helps me render a subject, like a building, dress or facial detail. Sometimes it’s about color or contrast. Other times I start with the remnant itself, maybe its surface or printed details, or maybe I feel the lives lived upon it, and that inspires the larger piece.

Bill Miller, Unsaid Words Were Heard, 2026, Vintage linoleum collage, 44 x 60 inches, Courtesy of dieFirma
 

MARCARSON: Pittsburgh and industrial landscapes show up a lot in your work. What keeps bringing you back to those places?

BILL MILLER: The old mills feel like cathedrals to me. I began working with linoleum after finding some in an abandoned industrial building, after the collapse of Pittsburgh’s steel industry. I’m often moved by the impact of industry on nature, families and communities, including my own. I’m from a blue-collar family, and scenes of mills and factories pay homage and are statements I’m naturally drawn to make.

MARCARSON: Your process is very detailed. Do you usually know what the final image will look like, or does the material change the plan?

BILL MILLER: It is often a mix of both. The works are always evolving and incorporate improvisation. For certain pieces I begin with specific compositions in mind and a general idea of what colors or patterns to use. But rarely does it develop entirely as I might have envisioned. I often repeatedly tear up elements or go through various versions where the material suggests, or even directs, my final execution as I try to create depth, perspective, emotional impact or simply beauty in the process.

Bill Miller, Steel Wool Gathering, 2026, Vintage linoleum collage, 60 x 90 inches, Courtesy of dieFirma
 

MARCARSON: If your work could remember everything that happened to the material before you found it, what do you think it would tell you?

BILL MILLER: My work bridges personal recollections and common memory. Every house in America had linoleum flooring; it was part of the fabric of this country, and I tap into the material’s nostalgic qualities. At times, the material has on occasion seemed to speak to me with memories. I often have moods or emotions come over me because I seem to feel the lives lived on it.

MARCARSON: For someone seeing your work for the first time, what do you hope they notice that isn’t obvious right away?

BILL MILLER: For folks who are new to my work, they often respond to the emotion, composition and detail. They might not realize the actual medium, so it can be a revelation that it is entirely vintage flooring. What isn’t always obvious is that all of it uses only the found surface…people assume I must have painted into it, which I never do. WM

Bill Miller: Spanning Time
Opening September 17, 2026
dieFirma
32A Cooper Square
New York, NY 10003