Editor’s Note: For this edition of Sieben on Life, Michael asked us to publish these words by Jeffrey Wheeler in honor of Daniel Johnston, the musician and artist who passed away while we were working on this issue.
For the last seven years of his life, I was lucky enough to have participated in two-dimensional conversations with the late, great, Daniel Johnston.
From time to time, I would send a stack of unfinished drawings to Daniel’s sister and caregiver, Marjory Johnston. Sometimes she would deliver these stacks to him, accompanied with a promise that as soon as he was done, they would go to the thrift store and the BBQ joint. He would blow through the whole stack in a half-hour flurry of unadulterated, cosmic, lo-fi spontaneity charged with his unique, dark, comedic brilliance. Receiving a package from Marjory is one of my finest memories.
Last month, I attended an exhibition of some of these works at the Kessler Theater in Dallas. On the bill with us that night was none other than the legendary street artist, Ron English. We became instant art buddies. As it turns out, Ron is the only visual artist I know of, other than Marjory, that ever collaborated with Daniel. We shared stories of Dan’s magic until late. As we said our goodbyes, he handed me a drawing he had been working on while we talked. It conveyed everything I would hope that this remembrance piece for Daniel could say.
I will forever cherish my visits and collaborations with this true genius. If you haven’t seen his art, look. If you haven’t heard his songs, listen. His special gifts will live on as the pure, unfiltered, and ever-poignant art and music he left for us. He will be missed… always. —Jeffrey Wheeler
