My Portrait: Why John “Ono” Lennon

”The only truth you have

is your own experience.”

- John Ono Lennon.

As a loving fan of John's and loving him as my contemporary artistic mentor in the 1960s to 1970s, I had hopes of some day getting to meet him - but not as some star struck fan, but rather as an accomplished sculpting artist in my own right; I had envisioned myself becoming the next Rodin.

One night during the last week of November, 1980, I had the following profound dream. It left me touched and taught me something I have never forgotten. In the dream I was actually in John's Dakota apartment with he and Yoko. I remember my being blown away over the fact that I was actually in his home - John Lennon’s home.  

Surprisingly, the place was far from fancy and with the way he was dressed - three days beard growth, torn dirty white T-shirt and messy hair - he looked more like the super of the building than a superstar, while Yoko was in the open kitchen smelling up the whole place with fried onions creating the ambience of a cheap restaurant rather than an expensive apartment in New York City’s famous Dakota. But that made no difference, I was still in awe of it all nevertheless. I mean, I was actually in John Lennon’s home!  And so, as I talked to him I talked with a tone of hero worship. And as he responded he treated me with disgust.  

At first, like a battered spouse in denial, I wouldn't believe it, so I kept being nice and worshipping him, while he kept treating me like a jerk. Finally, after taking so much of it, I could take no more and had to tell him where to get off. So I yell in his face, "I don't care who the hell you think you are or how much I and every one else loves your music, I'm a person too and I also deserve to be treated well. Screw you, you condescending ass!”

And from those words, he turns around with a big smile on his face, love and respect in his eyes, puts his hand on my shoulder - like a loving older brother would - looks me in eyes and says, "There you go."

Synchronistically, a week later he was killed. What I learned from him in that dream was to never worship anyone. Appreciate, emulate, yes, but never make any other man into a God. I felt that this dream happening just before he died to help prepare me for his untimely death. 

Less than two weeks later, on December 10, 1980, John Ono Lennon was violently taken from us. As my artistic mentor, I was devastated and grieved deeply for the loss. My dream of ever meeting him was over. Of ever seeing the Beatles reunite for a gig or two, lost. The loss was devastating, so I felt compelled, as many artists did, to express something in my art form - sculpture - for John.  

I first set out to do a life-size bronze monument of him. I proposed to have the City of New York allow it to be donated to the newly designated Strawberry Fields Area of Central Park - named after a Beatle’s song in John’s honor. I sent my proposals to the mayor’s office and parks commissioner and set out to first sculpt his head as an example of my ability to capture a great likeness, something I prided myself  on. Sadly, the mayor’s office responded with a “no thank you” - with the explanation that no new sculptures were being added to Central Park for maintenance reasons. While this deterred me from pursuing the life size fully body monument, it did not dissuade me from still feeling compelled to sculpt my beloved late brother’s bust, for all those of us who still wanted him around.

Unfortunately, sculpting from photos is not as good as sculpting from life - especially when the photos of your subject all make him look very different. So, I decided to do a representational portrait of John, i.e., NeoRomantic portrait of him by way of the symbols that represented him - small round granny glasses, long hair- rather than try to make it look like him at any one particular time.

I tacked up every photo I could find of him on my studio wall and began to sculpt. Sculpted and cried. I found myself predominately using a photo of John and Yoko. When the piece was done, my friend Henry came by and saw it. He said, “Hey, it looks like Yoko.” At first I thought he was just being a wise guy, but then as I looked at it some more I discovered he was right. At some angles it actually did feel like John but at other angles you could feel Yoko's presence as well. I loved it, and so I looked up to the heavens and said to the sky, "O.K. John, I can take a hint,” and named it, "The Spirit of John ‘Ono’ Lennon." 

Years later, I saw a record album with a sequence of photos of John’s face on the label turning into Yoko’s face.  And don’t you know, that one of those faces looked more like my sculpture than just the photo of John’s face alone.

AFTER THOUGHT: 

I know a lot of people blame Yoko for breaking up the Beatles, so I’m sure there are those who might be put off by my calling my sculpture John ‘Ono’ Lennon. But I’m not one of them. I believe if you love someone, then you want them to be happy, in whatever way that happiness comes. For whatever reasons, apparently Yoko filled the void of lovelessness that John carried from his childhood - “after all I’m forever in your debt” -Woman, by JOL. I was happy for him, and as sad as I was to see the Beatles end, I was still happy for my friend, my mentor, because, as he also sang, “I am you as you are me” - and yes, I was he as he was me. Our lives had a lot of similar painful childhood experiences and consequently similar outlooks. The feelings he expressed were not just his own, but mine as well; apparently the same for millions of others as well. Hence, his great success.

“All I want is the truth,

just gimme some truth.”  

JOL 

“The only truth you have

is your own experience.”  

JOL  

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