The artist discusses Fourth of July traditions in Brooklyn and Hawaii, togetherness during the pandemic, and chance encounters.
Early in his Presidency, Joe Biden set the Fourth of July as a deadline, both for seventy per cent of Americans to receive one shot of the vaccine and, more broadly, for a return to normalcy, so that we could celebrate, maskless, with family and friends. Although the former goal hasn’t yet been reached, the latter feels more and more achievable, as cities slowly emerge from lockdown. In his new cover, R. Kikuo Johnson depicts a New York Fourth, complete with hot dogs, fireworks, and loved ones nearby. We recently asked Johnson about his holiday plans, his most memorable Independence Day encounter, and how his neighborhood came together during the pandemic.
You live in Bedford-Stuyvesant, in Brooklyn. How did the neighborhood come together during the past year?
I’ve been so impressed by the way Bed-Stuy organized during the pandemic—from food distribution for the needy to comedy shows in the park to closing down the street for full opera performances. The peak may have been last November: in my almost twenty years in the city, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a stronger sense of togetherness than I did on the day Biden’s victory was announced. It felt like the entire neighborhood was in the street celebrating. Every corner was absolute pandemonium.
Strangers in New York often share brief moments of serendipity. Do you have a favorite story about a chance encounter?
As a matter of fact, yes. Years ago, I was cycling home through Brooklyn, and a man standing in the middle of the bike lane timidly flagged me down. It was a hot Friday night, and the man, young and Hasidic, was sweating in an overcoat and muttering something about an air-conditioner. I’m not religious, but I had lived in Brooklyn long enough to know that his religion forbade him from operating electrical devices after dark on Fridays. He accepted my offer of help, and walked me through his entire apartment, past a long dining table with more than a dozen chairs, to a back room where an elderly woman sat beneath a silent air-conditioner. The man said something urgent to her in Yiddish, and she looked at me, relieved. I flipped the unit on, and she thanked me very sincerely and offered me some orange juice. Smiling, I declined, and the man walked me out, and I biked my way home. This was a day or two after the Fourth of July, and I’ve thought about that man and woman every Fourth of July since.
You grew up in Hawaii. Are there specific state traditions for Independence Day?
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Many people in Hawaii celebrate with the usual barbecues and fireworks. Others are indifferent, and some actively refute the holiday in protest of the islands’ colonial history. But, over all, the Fourth is not as big a deal on Maui as it is in the East Coast places I’ve lived in.
This image was inspired by some of your experiences watching fireworks on Brooklyn rooftops. What are your plans for this July 4th? And how did you celebrate during quarantine?
With no car, and all travel plans thwarted by the pandemic, my partner and I spent last summer taking long bike rides all over the city, from Inwood to the Rockaways. Last July 4th, we explored the walking trails surrounding the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge. It was a peaceful escape from our work-from-home routine. But, this year, I’m looking forward to a celebration where I can be surrounded by friends.
See below for more covers celebrating Independence Day:
Find R. Kikuo Johnson’s covers, cartoons, and more in the Condé Nast Store.
A previous version of this post incorrectly identified residents of Hawaii.
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