Hugh T. Williams
Artist

As printed in Mojo Magazine
The Outsider Sect -

Art-Pop

An Elvis triptych in the hall? A pop-eyed pic of Louis Jordan in the loo? Contact Hugh T. Williams, folk artist. By Sylvie Simmons.

Hugh T. Williams' vivid coral pink and turquoise bungalow sticks out like a sore toe in this monochrome Florida neighborhood of South Tampa. Walk through the front door, trying not to step on the cats, and the interior decor is just as eccentric and crammed with old Hawaiiana, grass-skirted dancing girls, Beatles memorabilia and a full set of Dave Clark Five dolls.

But it's the oil paintings, covering every spare inch of wall, that catch MOJO's eye: a glittery, demonic Jerry Lee Lewis above the fireplace giving the finger to his flock, Dean Martin above the tropical bar, dreaming of alcohol and pills, a skeletal Hank Williams in the hallway, Andre Williams on the floor opposite the loo. And, among others, James Brown, Bo Diddley, a set of Elvises, and Louis Jordan, eyes popping out like a dyspeptic fish.

Until a car crash four-and-a-half years ago, Hugh was your average 40-year-old Nebraska-born, Florida-resident painter decorator (albeit one with singular taste.) Then, seriously injured and confined to his home, he started painting remarkable folk-art portraits of musicians. "The timeless ones," Williams says, removing one shoe and sock giving his foot more than the usual amount of attention than by a visit by an overseas journalist generally merits. "Ones I'll feel the same about 10 years from now."

His remarkable canvases, which range in size from an album sleeve to the best part of a front door, have become cult collector's items, especially popular among Florida's musician set. Hugh used to play in a couple of local bands himself, drumming with highly regarded punk outfits Voodoo Idols and Barons of Love. He also used to drink - copiously - but dried up to look after his aging dad, an ornery old military man who made Jerry Lee look genial. Trying to engage his parent in conversation, Hugh once pointed out Navy scene on TV. Mr. Williams Sr glanced at the screen and announced: "I hate sailors. They fuck each other and do their own laundry!" Since his father passes on, Hugh has been working part-time as a geriatric care-worker.

Almost perversely unmaterialist (he does not have a computer, let alone run a website - the one listed below belongs to a musician friend), he has been selling his paintings by word of mouth. Williams also takes commissions - so long as the subject is someone he admires.