Sequel

email response from Johnny re the mark ...

the mark for the painting

is now lost in time.

The hazards of painting

'I nearly set fire to myself last night,' said Johnny fixing me with a penetrating gaze.
'Johnny! what have you been doing now?'  I replied aghast.
'Well, I was sitting in my chair studying a painting.'
'Which one?' I asked.
'I can't remember - but the thing is, my chair is at a perfect distance from the painting - everything looks glazed over - I like to look at a painting when it's slightly out of focus. Anyway, I was looking at the painting on the easel and smoking.  I saw the precise place on the painting for a small mark - a very insignificant mark, but the position was critical.  So, I focussed on this blurry spot - I didn't dare take my eyes off it, in case I lost the place - put my cigarette out, still keeping an eye on the spot see.  Then I stood up - still looking at the spot - took one stride and screamed with pain! What had happened was the end of the cigarette had dropped into the lap of the Thai  pants that I was wearing (voluminous and flammable),  I stood up, the cigarette end dropped onto the carpet, but the trousers were smouldering.  I instinctively dropped my trousers and jumped up and down on them to put the fire out - which was quite successful by the way.  The only damage I sustained was that pubic hair on the right hand side was burned.'

Well that's alright then.  I wonder if he made the mark after all that excitement.

Envelopes and Big Foot

In 1971, Johnny was married with a young family, living in Harrogate, teaching at Harrogate College of Art and painting.  His paintings were being sold at the Nicholas Treadwell Gallery in London and he recalls,  'Nicholas Treadwell was the first guy that took me on - I was with him for about three years.  I never had an exhibition, but he sold everything I sent down.  But,' Johnny emphasises, with a prolonged pause and intense stare, 'I don't want my work to be sold, I want it to be bought!'

This attitude and principal is one that I couldn't understand when I first met Johnny.  Johnny's nearly always hard up, but even in dire straits, he will not sell a painting unless he feels it is going to a good home. In disbelief, I've watched him turn down enquiries to view or buy, because the prospective clients failed the adoption criteria.  End of story.

The  Envelope painting, done in 1971 (see earlier in blog about Johnny's envelopes) was a watershed and the point that Johnny gave himself permission to do and be what he is.  It was an emotionally turbulent, charged period as Johnny tried to manage the tensions between his deeply introspective world and the demands of the exterior one.  He remembers, 'The envelope paintings brought things to a head.  I was painting things I didn't want to paint.  I thought fuck it!  Here we go!  I got all my paintings back from Nicholas Treadwell, gave up my job.  The wife got the house and kids.'  The decisions were not taken lightly and it was a distressing time for all concerned.

His last exhibition was in 1972 at the West Yorkshire Playhouse.  'Since then,' he recounts, 'I've exhibited in pubs, furniture shops and where friends have given me space.  The whole point is my undergroundness.  The story of my life is my paintings.'

Last night, Big Foot came up in conversation. (It is still turned to the wall and framing is beginning to feature in the conversation.) 'I think I'm onto something with Big Foot,' said Johnny. 'I've never been able to recreate the envelope - the experience of painting it.  I've been trying to capture it ever since and now, for the first time since, I feel something akin to it with Big Foot.'

'What is the camera focussing on? (Look for the silver corners.) The thing the camera is focussing on is an illusion!'

It seems that some kind of completion/cycle might be going on.  'Big Foot,' says Johnny, 'is the inside of the envelope.  It's your imagination.'


The sayings of Don Juan Quixote
At seventy, my doctor said to me, 'Well Johnny, you can't die prematurely.'

the progress of Big Foot

'Well how's Big Foot doing?'  I enquired of Johnny.
He inhales slowly, brow and nose furrow into deep creases.  Tension is relieved with a ponderous exhalation.  'Phhh...'  as he considers.  'Well -'
I wait.  He goes through the breathing and furrowing cycle again.  I'm wondering what deeply philosophical insight is about to be revealed.  'I don't know,' he finally replied, 'I think it might be finished - go up and have a look.'

Works in progress

'Don't take a direct picture of Big Foot,' he instructed.  So I backed off and was permitted to photograph Big Foot with companions.  We were in a bit of a rush, so I didn't waste time (in all honesty, if I took a long time, things wouldn't be any better) and clicked away, without really paying attention to the paintings. However, I've really enjoyed looking my photographs of Big Foot.  He is there.  Now how do you do that in paint?

Works in progress

Last night, Johnny informed me that Big Foot is now turned to the wall.  'I think it's finished, but can't look at it any more.  I'll leave it alone for a while and then have another look.  It's best when the painting is finally behind glass, then I can't do any thing else to it.'

Time

Two weeks ago, Johnny came back from his pre-exhibition trip to London.  In the past, these occasions have always been a pinnacle of anxiety for all parties, with Johnny starting to stress the minute Clive informs him of departure times.  Clive lives (stressfully) in hope that Johnny will make the train.  (Johnny has been known not to!).

It is also extremely important not to hassle, or rush Johnny in any way, because this brings out a belligerence that is at odds with his usual, affable, easy-going self.  And the more he feels hassled, the slower he goes.  He did this to me when we were all going to the opera (with huge notice of event and persistent gentle reminders of time and date).  Having arrived on time to collect him, my car is still parked outside 30 mins later (in an area patrolled by ESP Traffic Wardens).  There are four of us in the car, waiting in our posh frocks and best suits and guess who insisted on one final cup of tea?  I was ready to throttle him but daredn't, because I knew he was picking a fight, which would give him the excuse not to go.  And that's where he has us, because we really, really want him to come.  Humph!

Ready then?

Johnny doesn't do time - he feels it, rather than refer to a watch (same, same brothers Paul and Phil). I was the only watch wearer on our Thailand trip and therefore, out of some kind of misguided sense of urgency (trains, boats, planes - that kind of thing) and instinct for order rather than chaos, I along with Marta, (she is similarly misguided) would attempt to marshal them into moving. This is like herding cats. Five minutes from departure time, Phil would decide on a shower.  Johnny would wait until one minute prior to leaving and decide to change his shoes, whilst muttering belligerently that he had been ready for hours!  Hah!  Paul too was a nightmare with his baseball boots (visiting temples required extra-time), until he discovered clogs and from then on, would be ready first.  Of all the brothers, I think Paul has the best sense of punctuality.  Perhaps it's from years of having to turn up on the right day and time for a gig.

However, for Johnny's latest trip to London, I observed a new man in action.  'I am really looking forward to this trip,' he confided. 'I am excited about the exhibition.  Everything about it feels good - all the people who are helping me do this.  I want to do it - to put on a really good exhibition that people will enjoy.' Johnny was on time, calm and not a peep from Mr Grumpy!

Big Foot

JM - renowned for singular footwear

Says Johnny, ‘The Big Foot image is so vague – like the photos of him.  Big Foot could be a man with a hairy outfit.  I think my Big Foot is down that road – he’s vaguely humanoid, but there are no recognisable features.  We think he’s got two arms.

I think I'm going to end up with a humorous exhibition.  When I’m in my Studio, it’s my tardis.  If I'm in the mood and Egypt bound, I can do an Egyptian painting and I’m there.

Imagination is not concrete, but it’s as close as you can get to a UFO.’

***

 And on health matters, Don Quixote says,

‘If I cough too much, I'll stop smoking – I'm not daft!’