Echoes In The Cathedral

Al Johnson’s undying search for substance gives life to others.

Laurence Bass
photography Ryan Kobane

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The scaffold awning deflects the late summer sun away from the white front door of Al Johnson’s art studio. The tattered veneer resembles one of the many gutted warehouses found at the crosshairs of 126th and 127th Streets on Harlem’s west side. There are no trendy signs to attract business or large bay windows displaying his work to catch the attention of wandering pedestrians. Once the door opens, daylight is absorbed by the darkness of the foyer. Stepping through the chipped paint threshold, the sounds of Pharoah Sanders’ blaring saxophone bounces off of the bricked-corridor guiding through the atrium filled with canvassed art, and into the workshop Johnson refers to as “the shed”. He casually spouts out suggestions to one of his pupils, working on her project, as he attempts to wipe off the spectrum of paint speckled on his brown hands.

“Can we do the interview somewhere else?” he asks while smoothing over his salt and peppered moustache. “I don’t like to talk about my work in the same place where I create it.”

Johnson grabs two folding chairs and makes his way to the stairwell adjacent to the bustling workshop. His still youthful feet skip two of the weathered cast iron steps at a time en route to the destination. Johnson cuts into the third story doorway walking across a sea of pulverized stones covering the floor. Leading the way to into another entrance, he places the two chairs down and announces that this is “the cathedral”. The midday sun beams through the skylight setting the left wall of this three-story high room aglow. The chaotic melody of ambulance sirens and car sound systems blasting the latest ‘dope boy’ anthem is evidence that Harlem still moves outside of the bricks. He pauses for a second to survey the room from floor to ceiling. Even though Johnson says he comes up here regularly for inspiration, he appears to be spellbound like an accidental tourist stumbling upon a Mayan relic at Coney Island. Appreciating the subtleties of each moment is the nascence of Johnson’s art.

Within minutes, it’s easy to see that humility is one Johnson’s of best suits. He holds a water bottle eye-level, catching the fragmented rays of sunlight with it, and makes a unique comparison between himself and the raised object. “Like this bottle, I’m just a vessel. I’m not the actual person who’s creating,” Johnson says about his craft. “The stuff that you see downstairs is a byproduct of what my Creator is channeling through me.” Influence and enlightenment may come from the Creator, but art gallery patrons avidly play witness to the masterful pieces etched by the ‘vessel’.

Al Johnson’s vibrant technique displayed in each piece is matchless. His exuberant strokes on canvas are intriguing are as they are unapologetic. Textures are enriched and artistic conventions are redefined as his colors make the abstract come to life. Johnson’s varying art limns the inventive Cross Culture series to his Energy Tiles that give his audience the chance to rearrange the piece’s appearance. Each work of art challenges and provokes the audience. New York, London and Tokyo are just a handful of the cities his 35 exhibitions have premiered. Any starving artist would gladly stand at the crossroads at midnight for a career akin to this, but Johnson seems to take it all in stride. This impressive catalogue raisonne is the summation of a framework constructed by Johnson in his youth.