Tag Archives: John Barclay
Having spent the weekend in hallowed halls of learning, I switched it up and spent my weekend in hallowed… ruins of once grimy, now disgusting places. No really, I did.
John Barclay was hosting one of his photography course/tours, and they needed someone as ugly as the surroundings to stand before the lenses. They were paying so I was game. Hallowed halls are expensive.
We began at 7am on an abandoned pier once used to load inland coal onto ocean going ships. We then went to Eastern State Penitentiary, where those who once offloaded bootlegged goods spent restful hours, or years, once their career was ended. I frequent only the finest locations.
Keeping in the theme of things or places that once were, the family joined me for the flee-market afterward. Lots of dusty old stuff, some cool stuff, and a pair of yellow ladies gloves my seven year old simply had to have. She spent her own money, bartered the woman down to $3 from $4, and did not care that they did not fit.
And of course, as always, I simply slept my Sunday away… not really.
I first met John when we were both sitting in the chairs behind the pulpit at church. During the opening hymn he looked over, furrowed his brow, and while pointing to his ankles mouthed the words, “where are your socks?”
They were of course in my sock drawer.
He has been mocking me for this, or any other thing he can come up with ever since. I like to think I always come out the victor in these verbal sparring sessions, these exercises in maturity, but I respect that he keeps picking the fight.
Later that day I overheard him telling someone of this location he knew of that was great for photography. It had graffiti, crumbling concrete, and a view of the Ben Franklin Bridge. He professed a love for photographing urban decay.
Upon hearing this I offered that I knew of the place he was speaking of, it was by my house, and that I had access to a place even better. I furthered that if he was game I could grant him entrance, but only at an unreasonably early morning hour. I didn’t know who I was dealing with.
This was the beginning of John and I working together on a project that shall for the time being go unnamed. I wasn’t just bragging, I really do have access to a great place, but what I didn’t realize is that John is not just words; he actually planned to follow through on our idle chatter. Since that day in church I have spent early mornings with John in the bad part of town, on an abandoned pier, in a graveyard, and then shooting the breeze at various cafes over breakfast.
I didn’t really realize why he was worth knowing till he invited me to be his guest at one of his presentations. The presentation is called Dream Believe Create, and it is only partially about taking pictures. He shows pictures, he talks about taking pictures, but the pictures aren’t the point. Sitting intentionally inconspicuously in the back row of his performance I began to appreciate why I tolerate his presence.
He makes people like themselves.
What a talent. He has a way of making people feel liked and then points out why they are likeable to the point where one begins to believe he is right. He is one part photographer, one part instructor, and ten parts cheerleader. He is genuine. He actually likes these people that he is convincing to like themselves and that is just plain pleasant to be around. I could be the biggest buffoon around but after ten minutes with him I will be convinced I’ll one day work for National Geographic.
Perhaps this is why he is good at pictures. He can see the good in people and in things and places. Better yet, he not only sees the good, but he captures it and then shows it to you.