Modern Cave Art: Some of The Works of Little John

Photo of Little John kindly provided by Scrambler, who are currently producing a documentary with him.

Over the past several years, I've had the privilege of getting to know the Outram Caveman known as Little John. I should start by confessing that my interest in Little John has always been partially journalistic; I had wanted to document his music and artworks. Outsider artists (such as Fernando Pessoa, and Henry Darger) are always the best -- since isolation prevents imitation and breeds innovation. He was recently imprisoned for burning down a shed – which is why I have to write this now; so that when all is said and done, he isn't remembered solely as the nut who torched a shed and ate weed pizza. The purpose of this article is to archive the vanishing ephemera of the enigmatic cavedweller; to give some insight into his character; and to explore the meaning of expelling someone from society who had already left.

Though largely removed from society, Little John sometimes hitchhiked, and I would pick him up whenever I could. You never knew what he was going to say, not because he had mental problems, but because he didn’t roll out of bed every morning, take his phone out and download the same opinions as everyone else. I remember once when we drove past one of those speed cameras that tells you how fast you’re going, and he told me about how he once ran past it fast enough to set it off, and about his ideas to make it into a competition – I just found his perspective really refreshing, I guess when you live in a cave you can’t afford to take fun for granted. Once he invited me to his cave, but when I went to find it I got lost (I get lost often, people say I lack a sense of going too far). I enjoyed his personality, and never saw anything that would lead me to believe that he was dangerous, despite warnings from several fearful people of Outram. After his incarceration, I would again attempt to discover his cave, this time with more success:

While the cave itself eluded me, I was able to find an outpost that he once told me about. Apparently this is where he would entertain guests, as beyond this point the journey to the cave becomes more difficult.

In addition to the cave, I had been told of a secret workshop in Mosgiel, where he had been constructing something like a series of spacecraft. I was able to track down some of these craft, which at first seem only to be welded bicycle parts, though the closer you look, the more bizarre they appear:

These works were made by welding bicycle parts together, though where John got access to welding equipment, and what drove him to create these strange mechanisms remains mysterious.

Some have suggested that the Outram Museum of vintage machinery (which is located near the cave) may have been a source of inspiration for his crafts. Others suggest that they are an expression of trauma from a serious motorcycle injury John sustained in his younger years – for which he was prescribed addictive painkillers. John once shared with me that his state of self-exile was originally a means of overcoming addiction, but he continued to live the ascetic lifestyle because he felt it brought him closer to god. 

When compared to some of the vintage farm machinery John would have seen regularly, his crafts appear less bizarre.

John famously liked to sit by the creek near his cave and sing love songs, though they do not appear to have made it to the internet – and since John found his cavewoman (who won’t be named), I wonder if these songs will be heard again. Little John’s partner was arrested and is being held in a convent. Her custodians insist that she does not want to be interviewed. If anyone has any recordings of his music, please contact me at DocumentsDunedin@gmail.com. 

Little John’s guitar. He once told me that he had some expensive electric guitars, which used to be stored in the shed he burned down, but now they are presumably hidden in one of the many caves in the area.

It wouldn’t be fair to write about the case against Little John, since I never got the other side of that story (and being in a different country now, I am not likely to unless some altruistic reader reaches out). I will, however, discuss his punishment. A highly regarded court reporter pointed out to me that Little John could not serve home detention since he lived in a cave, and he could not be fined since he has no money – leaving only the extremes of community service on one end, and incarceration on the other. The judge opted for incarceration. In my Layman’s opinion, the law must be self-aware enough to recognize that it cannot be applicable in every situation (the world isn’t written in the same language as the law), or else there would be no need for a judge. The human element is there to be unusual. 

Since the Covid-19 epidemic, and with the worsening of the housing crisis (According to a Human Rights Commission housing inquiry last year, more than 100,000 people are living without homes in NZ), I have personally noticed several different cases where people (particularly anti-vaxers) have left society to live in the wilderness (notably the frankly obnoxious “non-resident settlors”, a recent evolution on the “sovereign citizen” legalese users). Following the events of Little John’s trial, it seems that such people face the very real risk of incarceration (no home; no home detention). This, taken in combination with the reduction of mental health beds across New Zealand (against the recommendations of the world health organization), and the rise of “care in the community” type, private mental health practices such as PACT – it is very likely that those with conflicting traits who have sought to remove themselves from a maladaptive environment, will find themselves brought back into it against their will, and locked up. But that isn’t the end of the story for Little John.

I was fortunate enough to be hired by a media production company to go to prison and ask Little John to sign a talent release form, although of course I didn’t recognize this fact because I had never learned his real name – so when he walked into the visiting room dressed all in orange it was a complete surprise. I almost didn’t recognize him with his hair all shampooed. The reunion was joyful, and we embraced. Little John had not seen anybody from the outside world in the 18 days since his incarceration. 

Milton prison, from google maps.

He recounted his past two weeks to me. He had been kept in the mental health unit (ICU), where he received a deep gash on his arm from impacting a ceramic toilet. He was later moved to the Voluntary Protective Custody, “they’re not all pedophiles” he said, perhaps optimistically. He expressed that if he showed any signs of a mental breakdown they would return him to ICU where the conditions were worse. John described the fifteen minute interaction as “a light in the darkness”, saying his living conditions had been “horrific”. John lamented being cut off from nature. Otherwise, he seemed healthy.

A small church near Little John’s cave.

So, with John behind bars, and with all of my stories having met with dead ends, I decided to move to the UK for work. I didn't imagine I would hear anything from Little John in a long time. I never got the chance to tell him where I was going. I never got the chance to ask him how the rest of his prison experience was. But surprisingly, I found out, and sooner than expected.

I woke up this week to discover that he must have been let out 6 months early – for good behavior? Eucatastrophically, it seems that the tale of the Little John has only just begun, even if I can't be the one privileged to tell it.

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Article by Ruari Warren