Mossy Jade Johnson
“My body became the first sculpture I ever worked with”
Mossy has always understood the body as material, moving across painting, sculpture, performance, and tattooing. Her practice is anchored in presence, intimacy, and the quiet power of identity. Whether in the studio, on stage, or working closely with another’s skin, the question remains the same: what does a body hold, and what can it become?
We captured Mossy with some of her work and in front of the mural she painted on the walls of Angel City nail salon.
SHOP THE EDIT
Rick Owens Flesh Athena Tank. Jaga Antique Gold Linda Dress styled as a skirt. Rosa Maria Tove Ring, Mirka Ring and Tumi Ring.
When did making art shift from impulse to practice, and what led you toward painting, performance, and sculpture in particular?
Making art has always been instinctive for me. As a child I was constantly painting, dancing, building things — it was simply how I understood the world. The shift from impulse to practice really happened while I was studying sculpture and sound art. That was when performance entered my life. A third-year student once asked me to wear a sculptural garment she'd made because she liked "the way I articulated my body across the room." That moment changed everything. I realised the body itself could be material.
For the next four years I worked primarily in performance, including touring with Embittered Swish, an all-trans performance collective known as much for our scandals as our stage presence. Painting has always remained a quieter counterpart to that intensity — a place of contemplation and solitude. Sculpture eventually returned to my practice as well, though in many ways it had never left. My approach to performance has always been sculptural: thinking about bodies, objects, sound, and spatial tension as a single composition. Even my work with my noise band Mild3w fed into that language — performance as atmosphere, structure, and presence.
Left: Rosa Maria Mirka Ring and Tumi Ring. Right: Marc Le Bihan Grey Central Seam Tank Top. Rick Owens Washed Indigo Ribbed Tank. Acne Studios Black Baggy Coated Denim 2023 Jeans.
How has your relationship with fashion evolved over time, and are there designers or ideas that continue to resonate with you?
My fashion evolved alongside my transition. Looking back, part of me thinks my style peaked when I was a chaotic little non-binary twink — very Adam Ant meets 80s goth romanticism. Punk haircuts, oversized silhouettes, a lot of Yohji Yamamoto energy.
Thierry Mugler was my gateway drug into womanhood. The drama, the architecture, the idea of the femme body as something powerful and mythic. Mugler created women who looked like goddesses or creatures from another planet — and that felt liberating to me. Rick Owens resonates for a different reason. His work is grounded but still theatrical — exaggerated silhouettes, sculptural boots, divine fabrics. There's something deeply queer in the way he manipulates proportion.
And Maison Margiela has always fascinated me. They let materials remain materials. Seams exposed, structures revealed. Conceptually that aligns closely with my relationship to sculpture — the beauty of something being honest about how it's made.
Rick Owens Bean Bustier Gown. Rosa Maria Tumi Ring and Mirka Ring.
How has the way you've dressed at different stages of your life shaped your sense of self?
I've always been a hybrid. Even as a teenager I resisted belonging fully to any one style or subculture. I would adopt something and then immediately disrupt it — maybe to stay unique, maybe just to keep people slightly confused. During my transition I had to discover my own version of femininity. It wasn't something that arrived overnight.
I realised quickly that hyper-girlish aesthetics didn't feel authentic to my personality. What resonated instead were darker tones, earth palettes, unusual textures, clean lines. Femininity for me feels powerful when it's understated — something sculptural rather than decorative. Clothing became a way of shaping identity slowly, intuitively. Like building a language for myself.
Left: Rick Owens Black Crepe Wrap Gown. Right: Rosa Maria Tumi Ring and Mirka Ring.
Tattooing involves working in very close proximity to the body. Does that intimacy influence the way you approach your work?
Completely. Tattooing is built on intimacy and trust. You're working with someone's body in a very permanent way, so the process becomes deeply collaborative. I often draw directly onto the skin rather than starting from a rigid stencil. It allows me to respond to the contours of the body and the story the person is bringing with them.
Every tattoo is essentially a portrait — not necessarily of someone's face, but of a moment in their life, their lineage, their identity. That closeness reinforces something I already believe in my broader practice: the body is not just a surface, it's a living archive.
Marc Le Bihan Grey Central Seam Tank Top. Rick Owens Washed Indigo Ribbed Tank. Acne Studios Black Baggy Coated Denim 2023 Jeans. Laura B Silver Jemma Earrings.
.
How did you arrive at your personal style — was it shaped more by experimentation, instinct, or something else entirely?
I dress for my gays and my girls. Their joy is my reward. Fashion for me is communal — when a look sparks excitement in your friends it becomes a small moment of collective celebration. I've always had muses though: Grace Jones, Arca, Tülay Dinçel. People who embody presence rather than simply style. Experimentation is essential. Creating costumes for performance has been the greatest playground. I love body stockings, mismatched hair, loose ties, strange tendrils, slightly haunted makeup.
Day-to-day I gravitate toward simple signatures: 80s shield earrings, square-toe boots, wide-leg denim, and a long coat with a power shoulder. But if I had to choose a final look? Bury me in a chic long black dress and heeled leather boots.
Jaga Chocolate Leah Dress. Sophie Buhai Sterling Silver Spiral Collar and Large Spear Hoops.
What conversations exist between your painting, sculpture, and tattoo work — where do they overlap, and where do they resist each other?
Tattooing is about people. It's deeply personal and collaborative. Each piece becomes a visual translation of someone's story, drawn directly onto their body. Performance and sculpture operate differently. Those mediums allow me to push beyond the limitations of my own body — to interrogate how it's seen, projected onto, and politicised.
As a trans woman, that exploration inevitably intersects with visibility and resistance. Painting exists somewhere else entirely. It's more internal. The works often emerge from mental noise — a search for clarity, expansion, stillness. Painting feels like discovering the visual language of my quieter self. The mediums may appear separate, but I suspect they're more interconnected than I'm fully aware of. They orbit the same questions: presence, identity, and the body as both container and landscape.
Left: Rick Owens Flesh Athena Tank. Jaga Antique Gold Linda Dress styled as a skirt. Right: Marc Le Bihan Grey Central Seam Tank Top. Rick Owens Washed Indigo Ribbed Tank. Acne Studios Black Baggy Coated Denim 2023 Jeans. Rosa Maria Tumi Ring and Jira Ring.
The body appears as a recurring presence in your work — has engaging with it so closely through your practice changed the way you relate to your own body?
Absolutely. As a trans woman, my body often feels surveilled in public life — scrutinised, questioned, politicised. Art has given me a way to reclaim that relationship. Through performance, tattooing, and sculpture I've been able to transform the body from something judged into something generative. A site of experimentation, vulnerability, and strength.
My body became the first sculpture I ever worked with. People often tell me I seem very comfortable in my body. The truth is that kind of acceptance is work. It's a practice, just like art. But I've come to see the body differently now. Less as something fixed, and more as something evolving — a living material we inhabit and shape over time, much like fashion isn't it?
Photography by Tülay Dinçel. Styled by Emily Cooper.