John Taormina
Born in 1978 in Massachusetts, John Taormina made St. Petersburg, Florida his home 15 years ago. What drew him initially to the city was its affordable living and inviting weather—two stark contrasts to the high cost of living in his native New England. At the time, St. Pete’s art scene wasn’t the dynamic hub it is today, and Taormina had no plans to immerse himself in it.
However, a life-changing injury to his hand set him on an unexpected path. Unable to use it for over a year, he was left with no way to work or play music—two of his main outlets, so Taormina turned to painting as a form of rehabilitation. As he regained strength, his growing body of work eventually led him to open a gallery. Finding a modest space on the 600 block of Central Avenue for $400 a month seemed like an easy solution. But the reality of running a gallery quickly proved more confining than Taormina had imagined. After just one year, he decided to close the doors and step away from the gallery world.
For Taormina, art is not a lucrative pursuit. “You could produce a painting every week and still not make as much as a plumber,” he says. “Even if you’re selling a bunch of paintings, unless they’re $10,000 each, it’s not a sustainable living.” Art, in his eyes, is a labor of love rather than a means to financial success. He often reflects on how ephemeral and disposable art can be. Taormina has found value in art sold at garage sales, once considered valuable but now overlooked and forgotten. He admits, “I don’t believe the reason to make art is to make money.”
For Taormina, making art is not a joyous activity. He describes the process as a physical challenge that often leaves his back aching, and his hours consumed. “It’s painstaking, it’s awful,” he admits. “Sometimes it’s enjoyable, especially if I’m high or drunk—but honestly, I don’t enjoy a lot of things.” While he respects artists who find joy in creation, he admits, “I admire people who enjoy the process. I don’t really enjoy making things myself. I like thinking about it, but not doing it.”
Asked how long it takes him to complete a painting, Taormina explains his methodical approach: “I had 10 months to make the work for this show. I broke it down, knowing how many pieces I needed to finish, so I could plan how much time to devote to each one. I’d start each piece and focus on one color at a time—working on the yellow across all pieces, for example—before moving to the next.”
Taormina’s process for titling his work is equally idiosyncratic. He used to listen to talk radio while painting, jotting down striking phrases that he later returned to when searching for titles. For his current series, he drew inspiration from more abstract sources, combining elements of physics and the Emerald Tablets to create meaning.
John’s most recent exhibition, The Moment of Inertia, was held at Leslie Curran’s ARTicles Gallery, where three works found new homes. This show came nearly a decade after Sculptures Dream Too, also at ARTicles, in January 2015.
Despite his gripes about the artistic process, Taormina finds satisfaction in the completion of a show. “The success of the show is simple—it got done,” he says. “Selling the work has never been my primary concern.” His gallery days, while short-lived, gave him a taste for the behind-the-scenes work of curating and connecting with others, even if the sales never came. “I wanted people to meet their future husbands and wives,” he jokes.
John Taormina’s art may not be about fame or fortune, but it speaks to a deeper, more personal journey. For him, painting is an arduous, sometimes painful process—but one that serves as a form of therapy, a means of communication, and a way to share a moment with others, no matter how fleeting. •
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