A Moment with Jonny Negron

September 20, 2021

The intersection of the Flower and Fashion District in Downtown Los Angeles situates artist Jonny Negron’s studio. Originally from New York, Negron has called various cities home while inescapably ending up in the city of angels. This enclave for creatives has made LA not only a source of inspiration but an established community that fuels needed connection.

Located on the third floor of an expansive building, I witness Negron’s organic energy and playful demeanor. The high-spirited yet unpredictable artist leads me around his workspace, highlighting curiosities that embellish most of his studio. Scattered around his flat is personality indicators from shelves of vinyl records to books informing his craft. While anime and eroticism have inspired his artistic journey, Negron makes it apparent that history contextualizes themes and ideas that live inside his paintings. Fully informed and style specific, Negron has garnished notoriety for crystalizing humanistic scenes of partying, introspection, and sexuality in a moody and mind imprinting way.

Interview and Photos by Michael Hall

Known for creating comics that cause an audience to double-take, Negron has cemented a reputation for bending realities and forging a multiverse of absurdity. “Grandaddy Purple Erotic Gameshow,” a 2011 comic centering an assassin who's at the brunt of retribution for previous murders in a seductive and shocking manner, sparked recognition among comics and the art scene, catalyzing his career and the chapters that would come.

In recent years, Negron has mastered his stylistic fusions of alternative comics and Japanese woodblock printing, casting moments of solace for the world of characters he has created while embedded in intentional chaos. His newest collection of work for his upcoming solo exhibition at Chateau Shatto examines nightlife and club culture including newely explored mediums of music and video work. Balancing nuances of darkness and relief, Negron succeeds in dissecting the complexities of one’s life and the depths of experience. Occupying multiple planes of existence, each piece of work feeds into Negron’s representations of life and the varying emotions that accompany it. Color stories mould one’s experience with his paintings, yet details flood each work tugging onto one’s sense of reality. Depicting scenes that appear on another planet carry pieces of truth that speak to the viewer and their relationship with the world.

In an exclusive interview below, a journey marked by decades signifying growth and expression, Negron opens up about inspirations, culture, and themes.

How has this year been treating you?

My year, it's been good. It's been busy. There's been a lot of, there's been a lot of production, but I've been motivated.

In comparison to last year, how are you feeling currently?

In some ways, this year has been more difficult. I think just because of the uncertainty with our conditions and the complacency in there. I think last year, there was more optimism, but I think as I got beaten by the reality that we're just inside, you know, and struggling with loneliness and all that kind of stuff. Aside from that, it's been a great year too. I have had good experiences.

How long have you been in this space?

Two years now.

What draws you to create in Downtown Los Angeles?

I think there's, there's so much diversity here, and it's like, there's so much visual stimuli just being in the flower district. There's so many plants and flowers to look at, which is great. And then on the other side, all the fabric streets, that's another source of inspiration. Just in the fashion, there's so much style here that I often will see people that I like. I'll take pictures of them just because I'm inspired by their look. And then, of course, the weather, you know, being from New York. It's nice to have the more balanced weather.

Can you speak to the process of creating a piece from inspiration to a final product?

Absolutely. I think there's an amalgam of sources where there might be an idea, but then sometimes, for example, there's a piece that I wanted to depict a bartender, but I didn't quite have the composition in mind. I had the overall theme in mind, but then one day, I was at a bar, and I saw a particular bartender who just had a striking look and the bar itself. It was a nice bar. I referenced that. I was like, "okay, this is what I want to use." Sometimes that'll happen where I'm thinking of an outfit or a color that a figure should be wearing and, if I see a person on the street, maybe that day I'm like, "Okay, that's the inspiration." But then I refer to different compositions of masterworks or ancient works that I think kind of contain the theme that I'm looking to convey.

Your work presents absurdities in a really intriguing way. What inspired that approach?

I think it's always been there to a degree. I always gravitated towards art that is unique, you know, something that doesn't remind me of anything else. And even when I was younger and I would see work like this that I fundamentally didn't like, but it stuck with me, and it stayed there as something that was different. I had to realize I was like, "this is actually great." If I'm able to remember it, and it's so like, it's making me feel away. Maybe I didn't want to feel that way, though, but that makes it, that makes it strong. And I think one artist who drew me into absurdity more was David Lynch and his films. Because when I first saw his films, I first saw Blue Velvet, and I fucking hated it. I thought it was horrible, horrible. But then, over time, I think as I matured a little bit, something clicked. I was like, "this is brilliant." I started to want to incorporate these ideas in my work. Erotic manga as well. I mean, there's R. Crumb. I feel like that's definitely an influence that was there.

A lot of your paintings, as you say, have consistent themes of anime and eroticism throughout. What sparked the interest of those explorations?

Well, I think anime also challenged me as a kid because with American cartoons, the cartoons are strictly or they were more strictly for children. The content is like PG; you don't see sex, you don't see extreme graphic violence. The manga and anime I was exposed to, it challenged that. I was like, "what? this doesn't seem right." And I remember the first time I saw the cover of a hentai VHS at the video store that I would go to. I remember being mind blown because this is a cartoon. It looked like Sailor Moon but with huge breasts. It burned a hole in my brain. I was so young. I didn't quite understand what I was looking for. I was like, "I shouldn't be looking at this." This is like Playboy, this stuff that I didn't know about yet. I think just drawing back to using classical references; there's so much erotic and nude imagery with fine art. And I think that's where the influence came in also as like a critique in a sense, of porn or what's considered decent or indecent. Till this day, women aren't allowed to show their bare breasts, and it's arbitrary. It's stupid. I think it's the way it's fetishized because it's censored. If it wasn't so censored and it was just normalized as like, "this is our natural body; we're mammals," I don't think it would be fetishized the way it is.

You capture women in a very distinct way. Your depictions are of curvier women and often sexual, yet they appear absent of the male gaze. Have you thought about that absence or how you portray women?

I think it's a transmutation or critique of the male gaze. I think about Venus a lot, especially Venus of Willendorf and this depiction of the maternal, like the female form. And these aspects of motherhood, like big belly, large breasts. That's part of why I emphasize that type of body because I guess there's these sort of religious or cold references that are underneath a lot of these images.

Do you think your Puerto Rican roots or the culture out of New York and other places you've lived have influenced a lot of your work?

Yeah, I think even in terms of figuration, that's another aspect. There's a lot more body positivity, but I think that there was certainly a lack of it only ten years ago in fashion. It made me want to depict this more and also just being from a culture where there's curvier and thicker people. I remember just being a kid and the women around me always seeming to be unhappy with their physique, like always trying to obtain a standard that's not attainable. I think it's beautiful now that I see real women who look like what I was depicting, but back then, I felt like there was an absence of that. Now there's so many more plus-size models.

What are a few moments you cherish or look back on and acknowledge their importance?

I'm always grateful to be able to pursue what I do. And I think, looking back, the times that I struggled and the times when I told myself to give up or pursue something else. I persevered to continue doing what I do, and I'm happy that people enjoy and encourage me to keep doing it. And it's my life. I've always been doing it. I've been drawing since I was little.

It's exciting to watch your journey. I have witnessed tremendous growth. And like you say, you love the evolution aspect of your work. Where do you see yourself in the near future?

That's a good question, but I just think in terms of growth, it's always been intentional. And I think in order for growth to be possible, there has to be growth from within you. You can't just preach it. I think a lot of my work is experiential. And so there's some darkness in my work that does come from life experience, but there's also a lot of those experiences that came from a desire to tell a story or be able to relate to people and tell stories about pain that I think everyone goes through. And then there's that something that threatens to take you over, which I think I've struggled with. But as I progress and keep working on myself, I know that maintaining a positive outlook is what will sustain me. And I try not to worry about the future too much. I think just being in the present and enjoying the simpler things have been really rewarding.

Can you speak to your solo exhibition coming up?

The solo show is coming up in November with Chateau Shatto, and I'm planning to feature about six larger works that continue with the themes that I've recently been working with of nightlife and dancing. I'm planning to do some kind of imagery of people clubbing. I'm also planning to introduce some video pieces that I made, which I'm excited about. And the video pieces will also include original music. So it's been a bit of an undertaking just balancing these three things, but I really love all of them. And I access a different mindset for each one. Do you know? Music is a very different form of expression, but I love it. In some ways making music is my favorite, just because it's the most immediate, like you make a sound, and everyone hears it and enjoys it. And then the video, it's almost like a video diary. A lot of the images and a lot of the video is from my iPhone, and they are from my experiences.

Well, thank you for sitting down with me.

Is that it? Cool! I feel good about that.

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Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

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Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

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The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.