Artist James W. Johnson's imagination results in quirky, edgy videos
Twisted Realism

BY WILLIAM KERNS
A-J ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR
(From the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal on 2/11/07)

James W. Johnson is one of Lubbock's more quiet assets, a success story who enjoys a sort of anonymity outside art circles in his mid-sized hometown.

Yet his art is included in more than 200 private and public collections on five continents, and what began as just a hobby of making short videos has resulted in a two-minute video - political satire "A Bush Man" - that has been watched more than 100,000 times on his Web site, www.jameswjohnson.com.

More than one person has pointed out that Johnson remains far more interested in making art than making connections. He founded the Anti-Stylism movement for artists, introducing an Anti-Stylist's Manifesto on the Internet that challenged artists to stop living up to the expectations of art schools and art buyers.

Yet the unique nature of so much of his work - a pure originality that dares to challenge, disturb and humor in so many ways - was bound to attract a myriad of supporters.

A screening of his videos will take place at 7 p.m. Saturday at the Underwood Center, given the artsy title of "James W. Johnson's Moving Pictures: A selection of works chosen by the artist from the past six years."

Laura Neitzel, executive director of the Video Association of Dallas, is one singing Johnson's praises.

"Jim's work is completely original, quirky and edgy in terms of visual style and content," she explained via e-mail. "He has developed a distinctive style of animation, in which bug-eyed, skinny-armed, egomaniacal animated characters espouse their paranoid philosophies.

"Not only is the animation somewhat disturbing, but so are his characters. Their monologues are fanciful, bombastic and eerily familiar. Everyone in the audience seems to know someone in real life who is equally disturbing, whether it is the Busy Man who is all grandiose dreams and no action, or the wacky survivalist Post-Oil Man who thinks he is smarter than everyone else."

Johnson pointed out that he's always been a film fan and a movie watcher. An
I-dare-you- to-watch sense of humor was evident within 8 mm films he made with friends while in junior high school.

Suffice it to say one of their film's titles, "Spit," could be taken literally.

As an adult, that same defiance has taken on its own, more mature style, but Johnson's sense of humor still is not for everyone.

Take for example a 2004 short film, "Food Pathology," which finds Johnson engaging in a rap about delicious foods - with the name of each entree or dessert followed by a reminder of human organs diseased after overeating such favorites.

Born and raised in suburban, upstate New York, Johnson, 53, first was lured to Lubbock by a Texas Tech University catalog that listed film appreciation courses. His plan was to major in printmaking and minor in film. Upon enrolling, he discovered that those film courses did not exist.

So he told himself that filmmaking was expensive and demanded collaboration.

"And I didn't want to collaborate," he recalled.

In 1996, Johnson was busy making his art, creating a stir with his oils, blissfully ignorant of the technological highway. He didn't own a computer; he had no plans to buy one. Then a friend bought a computer for Johnson and, as he recalls, the machine tormented him.

"Every time I passed my studio, that computer was watching," recalled Johnson. "I became obsessed with learning how to use it."

His first stop was Photoshop. He loved manipulating images; he learned to use sound and decided to invest in his own video camera.

He was hooked and, for a long period of time, would stay up all night, experimenting with video images. His wife had to tell him to turn off the computer and come to bed, he said.

Johnson kept up with paintings and commissions by adopting an 80-hour work week, devoting an equal number to painting and working with the computer.

By the time he completed "A Busy Man" in 2002, he had noticed festivals that spotlight short films. He then discovered the www.youtube.com Web site, began e-mailing questions to other filmmakers, and improving his craft.

When he sent a video to the Dallas Video Fest, festival director Bart Weiss called and asked if he had seven more films he could submit.

A three-minute film might take four weeks to complete, and Johnson feels the same sense of accomplishment and satisfaction when finishing a video as he does when he completes a large oil painting.

He became what he called a gadget freak. Johnson still paints, of course, but now his studio has two functioning computers. He has gone through a few video cameras.

Animation does rattle him a bit.

"It's real hard," he said. "I'd say my skill level there is real low."

He pointed out that, rather than animating dialogue, he might cut and paste an image of his own mouth onto a character.

On the other hand, his primitive characters enjoy their own fans.

Johnson loves that computers have made the art of filmmaking more accessible to everyone. With the right computer, camera and software, anyone, he said, can make a high-quality digital video.

He also has worked in the film medium in Russia, Costa Rica and France as an art director and sometimes actor for a San Antonio attorney/financier who had been collecting his paintings.

Not one of these films has been completed to the extent of seeing the light of day (dated information); on the other hand, Johnson gained valuable experience and, obviously, also changed his mind about collaboration.

Johnson and filmmaking friend Chris Caddel have taught an introduction filmmaking course the past two years at the Underwood Center. And Johnson was asked to edit a ballet exercise DVD for Ballet Lubbock.

Carlton Godbold, who owns more than 20 of Johnson's paintings, said, "James Johnson is a creative genius of the first order. With video, he has found and pioneered a medium that uses his artistic energies to their fullest. He has set the bar very high for those who follow."

Kathryn Oler, director of the Underwood Center, explained, "Watching his films is like stepping into one of his paintings - you don't know quite what to expect, but, more often than not, you find yourself drawn into a reality that you recognize, but that has been rewired to Jim's view of the world.

"It is as if the thoughts behind his paintings and culture are suddenly freed from the frozen two-dimensional plane of existence and worry themselves out, vying for attention."

Exceeding even his own expectations and defying labels, Johnson uses video to entertain and communicate, and always, just as with his paintings, continues to seek realism with a twist.