The master of the acrylic medium, known for her ‘Neon Mysticism’ style that combines nature, pop culture, and the cosmos into hyper-vivid, dreamlike paintings.

Transmission 370: Interview with Johannah O’Donnell

Johannah O’Donnell is a contemporary painter whose artwork inhabits a charged space between beauty and the uncanny, combining elements of pop surrealism, science fiction, cosmic wildlife and cotton candy psychedelic psychological portraiture. She has cultivated a signature aesthetic described as “Neon Mysticism,” a style characterized by hyper-smooth acrylic gradients, sharp precision, and an ethereal, otherworldly glow. A graduate of the Ringling College of Art and Design, with a degree in Fine Art, she has spent over a decades refining a technical mastery that leaves viewers questioning how she achieves the quality of her paint. Her canvases serve as portals, bridging the gap between the natural world and the supernatural. Her art does more than just depict a subject; it explores the “social grief” of the modern era and the search for beauty within the vast, neon-lit unknown. In her artwork, the cosmic becomes personal, and the familiar becomes divine.

Central to her practice is an exploration of emotional complexity and the human condition. Working primarily in acrylic, often pushing the medium to achieve a richness associated with oil painting, she balances precision with intuition, carefully constructing compositions: her imagery often feels suspended between timelines, at once nostalgic and futuristic, drawing on influences that range from mid-century horror and pulp aesthetics to contemporary cultural anxieties. Johannah O’Donnell’s body of work also touches on political undercurrents, because she believes that artists considering their voice within the context of their times is what makes art important within a more specific, political context. Through her paintings, she creates immersive visual worlds that are at once intimate and shimmering, offering no fixed answers but encouraging a sustained emotional and psychological engagement. Across subjects, her work vibrates with a specific, high-frequency energy: the fierce, sentient gaze of a big cat, the crystalline structures of sacred geometry, the iconic silhouettes of pop culture legends. Her evolving body of work reflects a resistance to stylistic stagnation, instead embracing change as a vital part of her artistic language.

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Reflecting on your childhood, was there a specific ‘lightning bolt’ moment when art stopped being a hobby and started feeling like your calling?

I’m not sure there was ever a “lightning bolt” moment, per se, but I always knew my career path would be in the arts. There were multiple artists in my family, so drawing, painting, and sculpting have always been part of my life.

Your artwork often features a specific ‘glow’ or neon aesthetic that feels both futuristic and  late ’80. Do you view neon as a color palette of a specific age, or as a way to represent the ethereal light of your emotion?

I would say that my focus on color as a narrative tool started in high school. One of my favorite artists is Josef Albers. He created a series of abstract paintings, “Homage to the Square,” that experimented with color combinations. Seeing how the juxtaposition of different colors can affect mood is really inspiring to me. 

Your artwork is incredibly smooth and precise, and can be mistaken for digital or airbrushed art. What is your relationship with the physical act of painting? 

It’s an interesting relationship for sure! I spent years as a scenic painter, painting signage, props, scenery, etc., for theme parks, television, film, and other themed entertainment venues. Prior to that, I didn’t really paint at all. I focused on printmaking in college. Paint seemed so hard to control, and my work was very precise/process-based.

When I moved to Orlando and started out as a scenic artist, I had no idea what I was doing. They put a paintbrush in my hands, and I was like, “What do you want me to do with this?” Almost everything I learned about painting, I learned on the job. Working in a production pipeline showed me that I could create precise, process-based work with paint. 

The creative aspect of my process takes place while I’m working on the mock-up/reference for my final piece. I do all of that in Photoshop, where I create a digital collage. The actual painting is all about patience, problem-solving, and making adjustments. I really do enjoy getting as much detail into my pieces as possible. 

Known for her meticulously rendered acrylic paintings, she constructs vivid, otherworldly scenes where human figures, animals, and symbolic motifs coexist in a state of heightened tension. 

You’ve worked with acrylics that behave almost like oils, how does the material influence the emotional quality of your artwork? How important is surface to the identity of your artwork?

I use Golden Open acrylics in my paintings, and I love them. They don’t replicate the luminescence of oil paints, but they’re so much easier to work with than regular acrylics, and they’re much less toxic than oils. 

I only work on smooth hard surfaces, such as art board or wood. I have painted on canvas in the past, but only for work projects. I can definitely see how a rougher texture and larger brushes would help create a more spontaneous, emotional piece of work. I don’t set out to convey specific emotions with my paintings, though I avoid creating work that intentionally elicits negative emotions from the viewer. 

As an artist based in Florida, how much does the specific light and tropical saturation of Florida influence your neon-heavy palette? Do you think your art would look different if you lived in a different place or a concrete metropolis?

Well, I live in Orlando, and we’re pretty heavy on the concrete here! I think if I still lived on the coast, that would definitely inform my work. I grew up near the water, and it’s such an amazing thing to have nearby. It influences everything. My background as a scenic painter and my love for the Disney parks definitely have an influence on my work. Especially the 80s and 90s park aesthetics. And despite all its faults, I do love Florida. 

You’ve done tributes to icons like Prince, David Bowie, Shelley Duvall and many others. When you paint a cultural icon, are you painting the person, or are you painting the memory of how they influenced you and made you feel?

I am painting them as cultural icons, as seen through the lens of fame. A good comparison would be Andy Warhol’s series of celebrity portraits. While I only paint people who had a positive influence on my life, the portraits are more of a commentary on them as larger-than-life figures than they are on my personal feelings about them.

Her subjects frequently confront the viewer directly, their expressions oscillating between vulnerability and defiance, while recurring elements such as watchful eyes and animal counterparts deepen the sense of narrative ambiguity. 

In series like ‘Wildcat’ and your various portraits of big cats, there is a distinct human-like gaze in the animals’ eyes. Are these intended to be ‘spirit animals’ for the viewer, or are you exploring a specific human emotion through the lens of a predator?

Honestly, I just love animals. They’re beautiful and fun to paint. And yes, these paintings do allow the viewer to project human qualities on them, though I don’t necessarily have any specific emotion in mind when I design them. I do love a fierce-looking animal, though! 

There is a playful, almost surreal humor in pieces like ‘The Kittening’ or ‘CAThenge.’ How important is ‘the absurd’ to your creative process? Does a piece need to make you smile for it to feel finished?

Absolutely. Humor is very important in my work. Making people smile is pretty much job one for me. Like most people, I have my good qualities and my bad qualities, and I can be kind of doomy-gloomy in real life (for valid reasons!), but I try to put my best self into my paintings. As you can tell, I do love surrealism. It’s clever and funny, and best of all, it tells a story. 

Eyes are a recurring motif in your paintings. What do they “see” that the rest of the composition doesn’t reveal?

They see the viewer! And yes, I do paint eyes a lot, even more so now, as it’s a very personal subject for me. Almost 3 years ago, my left eye experienced a full retinal detachment. I had surgery to reattach the retina, and it was successful, but the vision in that eye is not great. It took months for me to be able to paint at the same level I used to. That was a very difficult time, but it also made me a stronger person and artist. 

Your titles (like  ‘Oneironaut,’ and ‘Fear of a Female Planet’) are very evocative. Do the titles come to you before you paint, or do you wait for the finished image to tell you what its name is? How do you balance narrative clarity with visual ambiguity? Has your perspective on the role of art in society changed over time?

I almost never have a title until after the painting is complete. Honestly, it’s my least favorite part of the process. I can see why some artists just call everything “Untitled”! 9 times out of 10, the titles are based on songs. I don’t want to give too much away, so that keeps things a bit more ambiguous. 

Photos and images courtesy of © Johannah O’Donnell

Dominique Musorrafiti

Ciao! My name is Dominique. I’m Italian and I’m proud to be a mix. My father was an Italian chemical engineer and high school teacher, with Greek and Polish heritage. My mother is Haitian, she was high school language teacher, with Dominican, Spanish, French, Portuguese, African and Native American heritage. Being a mix makes me appreciate to want to understand different cultures and lifestyles. I grew up in Italy, lived few years in Haiti, travel around main European capitals, lived many years in China, in Spain and UK. Traveling makes me feel that we can learn something from every situation in every part of the world.