How to Draw a Bunny

"How to Draw a Bunny" is a documentary on Ray Johnson, known as the most famous artist you've never heard of. And rightfully so: despite being a fixture of the New York art scene and having such notable friends as Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein, Johnson never achieved the widespread acclaim with his collage work. Perhaps this film will slowly change that, years after his death.

I entered this film not knowing Ray Johnson or his work, which I think worked largely to my disadvantage. Generally, I like to watch documentaries on topics I am at least casually familiar with, to enter with a decent grasp of what will be explored. Going in blind provides an overload of information, and puts me in a position where I do not know what the angle might be. A Warhol documentary, for example, would have been more accessible, as I don't really much about him beyond the most basic information.

Ray Johnson as a person I think I like. The performances they showed were nothing special and his spoken word parts were not overly interesting, but he had quirks I really appreciated and think I would have admired him. As an artist, I am torn. While clearly talented, I do not know that his style suits my taste. Oddly, I enjoy both Warhol and Lichtenstein -- pop art is my guilty pleasure -- but Johnson is unlike either of them.

Perhaps most interesting was the story of his death. I don't want to give anything away, but this event is possibly what capped Johnson as a memorable artist. The coincidences, the mystery... it's all so strange and intriguing. I wish they would have gone into more detail on this part of his life...

As mentioned in the movie, Ray Johnson may have been, "The most famous artist that you've never heard of." I've seen a large collection of his work first hand, in fact, as I've learned it could have been the largest show of his work prior to his death. Johnson, among may other things, was about duality, in the review prior to mine, the reviewer gave the film a poor review. If one is not inclined to enjoy or understand the subtleties of conceptual art, then by all means this is not the DVD for you. However, Johnson occupies a position in the art of the 50's and 60's that is important and this film shows his relevance as detailed by other "greats" of the day. Nothing was ever at face value in Johnson or his work. Each piece presents layers of meanings through images that continue to give. I wholeheartedly recommend this film. There is a great deal of "extra" content. For the searcher looking from answers about his art, this is the best place to begin. For the working "Mail Artist" is revered as the documentary of the artist who "started it all". Enigmatic, yes...but Johnson made himself his own work of art. This movie reveals more about him in a short period of time than any other source. Two great books are also available about his life and work. I gave this a full TEN stars. I have watched it repeatedly and and will view it many other times. Very well put together with an interesting soundtrack.

I had no idea what this documentary was about going in, but a week after watching it, the movie and the artist at its core, Ray Johnson, still haunt me. This is a movie about a person who really had no real life or essence except his art and his ideals. People in his life tell stories about him to try to piece together who he really was and what his life was all about. I don't know that there's ever been an artist or person like Ray Johnson. The curator of his art show says she feels totally "manipulated" by him. Like he left clues so she would know exactly what to do. After you see the film, you may feel as I do, that the film makers made exactly the film Ray Johnson would have wanted. Very spooky in parts, and utterly fascinating. It's practically a who's who of the pop art world.

"How to Draw a Bunny" is a documentary about Raymond Johnson, an eccentric modern artist (isn't that a redundancy?), whose suicide by drowning in early 1995 was thought by many to have been his final and most grandiose act of "performance art." Famous for his trademark "bunny" signature, Johnson made his name primarily as a producer of abstract paintings and collages built on iconic images from the pop culture world around him.

The film provides a generous sampling of Johnson's work, along with interviews with counterculture friends and supporters who often seem more bizarre and "out there" than Johnson himself reportedly was - although in the few video clips we see of Johnson, he really does seem to be operating in his own little different-drummer world. However, one of the problems with choosing Johnson as the subject of a documentary is that he was so innately reticent about himself that it was hard even for people who were close to him to get to know who he really was. Interviewee after interviewee makes this point about him, and yet these were the people who actually knew him! How much more difficult is it for us then - who didn't know him at all or knew him strictly through the work of his we saw and admired - to find out who he was. Thus, right from the get-go, the film faces self-imposed limits on just how revelatory it can end up being. In a similar way, despite all the words uttered about the works themselves by the people being interviewed, the film offers us surprisingly little analysis of the artwork's underlying significance and "meaning." As one of the women interviewed tells us, she never really understood what Raymond was trying to say through his works; she just enjoyed the thrill of experiencing them. And, perhaps, that is the best way to approach "How to Draw a Bunny" itself. Don't go into it expecting a deep and profound examination of all that it is showing us; just enjoy the artwork for its own intrinsic value and sake. That's probably the way Johnson would have wanted it anyway.

This documentary provides a much different angle on the presentation of subject, and this is what makes it exciting. That we cannot ever know Johnson, especially in light of the fact that he has committed suicide, makes the entire exercise all the more intriguing. Interview after interview evinces an all-too-rare character study of someone who simply did not want to be known. The art of this concealment builds to an exhilaratingly creepy conclusion that will be familiar to anyone who has been affected by suicide. How can we think we know someone who commits this unthinkable act? The segments regarding Johnson's rope-a-dope art dealings and coyness about capital is worth the price of admission alone. His influence is everywhere in the art world to this day, and yet few will remember him.