Painting with John

and the Creative Isolation of John Lurie

Story Jam writer, Caro Granner, contemplates inspiration that she received from an unlikely source, the painting show Painting with John with John Lurie.

I know I can’t be the only 20-something creative who feels like this current moment is an incredibly weird time to try and make a life, let alone an artistic career. How do you find performance opportunities when you’re cautious to be in public with big crowds? How do you find your path among the avalanche of new work-from-home positions that you can do from anywhere? How do you even make room for your creative practices when just getting through and attending to the daily crises, personally and globally, can feel unmanageable? 

Contemplating these questions, I find myself remembering a quote from writer and abolitionist Derecka Purnell: “I learned this: Just because I did not know an answer didn’t mean that one did not exist.” Moments of intense questioning can lead us to seek answers in places we might not otherwise look, and two years of staying mostly inside my own house with a TV, a computer, and too many questions has left me with a lot of room for seeking. When I think about what I’ve found, the first thing that comes to mind is the bizarre, delightful HBO series Painting with John.

Don’t be fooled by the name: creator and star John Lurie is less of a Bob Ross, more of a deadpan absurdist. As he remarks in “Bob Ross Was Wrong,” the show’s excellent pilot, “None of the trees in my paintings are happy.” While John might not teach you the joy of painting, I think he will teach you something about how to create around, through, and with your strange circumstances.

MORE INSPIRATION: If you’re on the lookout for creative fuel, check out my list of 10 unexpected tips for writers and Brian Montano’s reflections on creating during a pandemic.

If you haven’t heard of John Lurie or Painting with John, I don’t blame you– my family and I posit that we are the only people on earth to have actually watched it. But, miraculously, it was made and even renewed for a second season. I highly recommend giving it a watch, and I’m hesitant to even try to sum it up in a clip, but here’s one that illustrates just some of the wacky fun John and his team get up to:

The overall conceit of Painting with John is that John Lurie, a painter and former it-kid of the New York City jazz scene, created-- often before your very eyes— basically everything you see onscreen, in and around his home on an undisclosed, beautiful Caribbean island. The production is sparse, seemingly guided by John and his two assistants/producers/aides/collaborators Nesrin Wolf and Ann Mary Gludd James. (You can spot the two waving out the windows of the small car.) Much of the show is populated by glacial, meditative clips of John painting with bright colors and tiny paintbrushes, telling stories from his life; or behind-the-scenes footage of the three co-stars fixing up the house and joking around together. A drone shot of their lush backyard- cut to John waxing poetic on the porch- cut to Ann, Nesrin, and John in silly hats doing simple choreography on the couch- cut to footage of the drone crashing spectacularly around the edges of the show’s beautiful, contained world.

If it sounds like a uniquely pandemic-appropriate watch, that’s because it is. But in truth, John’s particular creative context was not simply born out of COVID-19. His transition from musician-first to painter-first came when he developed a host of mysterious health issues, leaving him unable to play music and relocated to his island home. Before the virus that has altered all of our lives, John’s life was altered by illness, his creativity bounded by circumstance. And the beautiful thing about Painting with John is that it refuses to be anything other than what it is, refuses to need anything other than the tools it is made with, the people who make it, and the place they make it in. Faced with limitations and adaptations, it gleefully leans in. In a world where big concerts and art shows are laden with risk, John makes entire performance art pieces in his home. With more of us spending more time with just the human beings in our home, John, Nesrin, and Ann Mary declare that they are enough just as they are. Although the show bears John’s name, he does not position himself as the sole creative genius, the center around whom the story revolves. Rather than relegating his aides and friends to the sidelines, where they may help him live his life or meet his access needs unseen by audiences, John collaborates with Ann Mary and Nesrin, joyfully embracing their role not only in his home but in his art.

The lessons that Painting with John and its strange, delightful trio can teach us are plentiful. The most poignant being— adapt. Use your circumstances to be creative, because that’s what you are! If you can’t play your instrument, pick up a paintbrush. If you can’t gather with an ensemble, do it with your roommates. If you can’t, for whatever reason, find your way back to how things were, then don’t. 

Want to get creative? Learn storytelling online or in person with Story Jam’s classes, workshops, corporate trainings, and our upcoming 2022 writing retreat! All offerings can be found at storyjamstudio.com. Story Jam also offers a free monthly open mic called The Cocoon where you can share your stories in an affirming online space. In addition to our classes, Story Jam has been spotlighting true, personal stories from a fantastic lineup of diverse performers since 2014. Story Jam hosts monthly shows at Artifact Events in Chicago and Madame Zuzu's in Highland Park, IL. Learn more at storyjamshow.com!