“It’s funny how little memory I have of balloons growing up,” said DJ Morrow, one of the greatest avant-garde balloon artists in the United States. “It’s almost like because it was around me constantly I didn’t even notice them.” They were, that is, like air.
Morrow, 29, lives in a small apartment in Houston, and makes his living as a wedding videographer. But his true passion, passed down from his parents, is balloons. He has transformed that passion into a career creating ephemeral inflatable sculptures unlike those seen at a typical child’s birthday.
One wall of Morrow’s living room/workshop is taken up by plastic boxes containing his hand pumps, tape measures and thousands and thousands of balloons, organized by color. During a visit in January, a rough draft of his most recent piece sat in the middle of the room: a life-size girl in a blue pinafore dress holding a snarling German shepherd by the leash. Every muscle group of the dog was taut, striated in aggression. Its teeth were bared and its yellowed eyes popped from its face. The girl’s face was a mask of panic.
The piece, titled “The Long Night Takes Hold,” “puts an image to the sense of general helplessness that I was feeling with the incoming administration,” said Morrow, his purple mohawk swept up with a clamshell hair claw.
On a large television screen was a photograph of a dead lamb, on its side, its muzzle bloodied. It will become the final element of the composition, its neck destined for the jaws of the dog.
As Morrow worked, the room filled with squeaks. To recreate the dead lamb, he inflated long white balloons. He began twisting, eyes glued to the screen, hands grasping and inflating balloons as smoothly as an archer draws an arrow from a quiver.
Slowly the form of a lamb’s jaw began to take shape. As Morrow twisted and pinched, and occasionally popped, a head grew.
Morrow is part of a very small cadre of balloon artists seeking to use the medium to express the profound. For Morrow, his ballooning journey began in Rio de Janeiro, where he was born, before moving to Taiwan and later Houston.
His parents were members of the Family of God (now called Family International), the cult founded by Morrow’s great-great-grandfather, David Berg, in 1968. They both worked with balloons. His mother, under the name Miss Sunshine, still does. His father developed a latex allergy and had to quit. (“That terrifies me,” Morrow said.)
At 16, Morrow began learning how to twist from his mother. After two weeks, he had learned her repertoire of swords, hats, dogs and teddy bears — “the standard canon of ’90s shapes,” he said. Hungry for more, he began experimenting with multiple balloons in a single piece. Soon he discovered the work of Matt Falloon and Rupert Appleyard, two balloon visionaries who developed systems to create large-scale sculptures. “Being an autodidact was a big part of the cult’s culture,” Morrow said, “so I really began to expand my balloon knowledge quickly.” (The Morrows left the cult in 2012; DJ now identifies as an atheist.)
In 2019, Morrow twisted a life-size sculpture of a sad clown, his first foray into inflatable pathos. It was inspired by his inner life.
“I was dealing with a lot of depression,” he said, “but, as an entertainer, I was constantly under pressure to put on a happy face.” For the first time, he unlocked balloon sculpture’s gravitas.
The piece wasn’t widely seen. But later that year, when he created a large reproduction of Francisco Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son” and posted it to Reddit, it became the top post on the website. “The fact that it got to the number one really opened my eyes to the power of being artistically genuine,” he said. Soon Morrow was twisting balloons into large recreations of Francis Bacon’s disturbing “Study After Velázquez’s Portrait of Pope Innocent X” with the pope replaced by Clarence Thomas.
Since then, Morrow has mounted large-scale exhibitions, including one at the Jung Center in Houston called “Out of the Strong Something Sweet,” which explored his childhood as a member of a cult and featured balloon sculptures of Samson wrestling with a lion.
“It represented to me all the good things that came out of my cult upbringing,” Morrow said. “It was me trying to salvage the good from the experience, as Samson did finding honey in the lion’s carcass.”
Those pieces, like all of his sculptures, began to decay as soon as they were finished. Preserving the balloons is out of the question. “It would be like embalming a corpse,” he said. (Morrow sells prints of photographs of his work on his website. Special editions run between $300 and $600.)
“It’s wonderfully artistically enriching,” he said as he worked on finessing the dead lamb, but he admitted that, “financially, it’s not the greatest.” Grabbing another balloon that he inflated, twisted and bent into a lamb’s mandible, he added, buoyantly, “It is beautiful in its absurdity though.”
