17 Sept 14th–Sept 20th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | painting what looked like a monster to him. “The thing that got me on the path of illustrating or painting monsters, which is almost exclusively what I make now, it all started because somebody wanted me to do a self-portrait, but I knew I was not going to make a self-portrait. So, I started doing this monster, but I dressed him like me,” he recalls. More recently, it’s been harder and harder for Hunt to say, “No, thank you. I don’t want my picture taken.” Even Hunt’s children, who recently turned 21, don’t even have a picture of him. If there is anything positive to take away from Hunt’s reluctance, though, it’s that he does seem comfortable with being uncomfortable about his image or having his picture taken. “I don’t want to be in a situation where I’m finally over it. I don’t want to be in a room, sitting at a table with like 20 people and be OK with it. To me, that’s terrifying. I understand that it would probably be better for my loved ones if I resolve it, but the thought of it sucks. I’ve always sort of wanted to be invisible ... to be in the background. Nobody needs to know who I am,” Hunt says. Hunt says that he will die not having any pictures of himself taken publicly. He doesn’t see himself ever being comfortable with having his picture taken. “I mean, I should probably have a picture for [my family] when I am gone. But I also don’t see it happening. I don’t know how to get there from here, I guess. It’s a conundrum,” he says. Luckily for Hunt, his art can provide images for the rest of us, even if we can’t ask Siri to show us a picture of him. As a teen- ager, he began earning a little bit of noto- riety (but hardly any money) creating artwork for local bands in the form of flyers, album art and even a drumhead or two. “My first gig, I guess they paid me. Well, they paid me with the ability to go see their shows for free. It was a progressive rock band in Tempe called Celtic Reign. I was impressed that they all knew how to play really well. Their album was recorded and mixed the way a capable adult would record an album. I did their album cover and painted their drum head. I was 18 or 19 and going to Boston’s, and seeing the thing I painted on the drum set was a big deal to me. It was very exciting,” Hunt says. While he says that he knew he would never have a linear career, he feels strongly that his work would always be tied in one way or another to music. He enjoyed the creative freedom of making flyers and drew confidence from being able to share them with the world in record stores and on telephone poles. “I didn’t know, back then, that you could just say, ‘I’m a painter’ and hang some shit on a wall and now it’s an art show. You get a lot more traction out of a poster on a tele- phone pole than an art show. Maybe 50 people will come to your show, but how many people pass a telephone pole every day, even if they’re not paying attention? If you do it long enough, maybe people will start wondering ‘Who’s this fucking guy drawing this shit?’” Hunt says. In the early ‘90s, Hunt met the late Michael 23 (a.k.a. Michael Hudson), who died earlier this year. This meeting was fortuitous for Hunt in many ways. For one, it eventually led to Hunt’s first solo show at 23’s Phoenix gallery, Thought Crime. “Because his name was ‘23’ I knew that he and I had intersecting interests. A few years later, he had moved to Phoenix, and I asked him if I could do an art show at his new space. He gave me my first solo show and he only did it because I asked for it. He could probably see in my face that it took a lot of courage to ask for a show. That was everything to me. He was nothing but supportive to me. Most places at the time were not that supportive. He had a rare ability to support other artists. I saw that right up until the end, too,” Hunt says. In keeping with the tradition that Michael 23 had passed on to him, Hunt is also supportive of other artists. He’s been involved in setting up a number of art shows around the Valley, including his nearly annual sticker drops, where other artists are invited to show their work. These include established artists, but also artists who are just getting started. Hunt is humble about this, but when you hear him talk about this aspect of his life, it’s clear that it’s extremely important to him to help curate Phoenix’s art scene on some level. “It was almost like a blank check of support. You don’t even know if the person is worth supporting yet, but you’ve got to see if they are going to earn it,” Hunt says. Hunt is nothing if not prolific, even if he doesn’t always enjoy every aspect of his work. “Painting is not something I really dig. Well, that’s not true. I enjoy it sometimes. I get more out of the paper and the drawing. There is something to that. Maybe the portability of it. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to take a bunch of paints to a coffee shop,” he says. “Painting for me is a kind of palate cleanser. For every 20 or 30 things I draw in pen and ink, I need to do a painting. It sort of clears my head, but I don’t like to paint one thing and go directly to another painting. I don’t like to spend much time in color. There is something about color that I don’t, I don’t know — it sort of puts me off.” Hunt’s work has become quite sought after. Mark Henderson is a fan and collector from Southern California. A sushi chef by day but artist by night, he grew up in Phoenix and began purchasing Hunt’s work several years ago after seeing it on a trip home. “His work is so different than anything I had seen. It honestly made me reevaluate the way I look at and make art. I love how his line work shapes his pieces and almost gives them motion. I also love how James Hunt, a.k.a. NXOEED, riding his bike. (Photo by Rhondi Reardon) Art in a tree, for free. (Photo by Tom Reardon) >> p 19
