Beckley--Artist, Educator, Inventor

John Beckley lives near the nation's capital though at once one would think him a laid-back Californian, in the Berkeley, or New York SoHo traditions. One might also think him a retired railroad worker, looking at the striped cap he wears, or a high school math teacher. He is neither. His hands give him away--the strong, union-worker's grip is that of a person who works with his hands--he's a craftsman.

At sixty-five years of age this artist, now inventor, has developed, and is in the process of re-developing, the craft of bronze sculpting. A tall, muscular, albeit thin man, Beckley gave up the comfortable job of working as a registered pharmacist, almost on a bet, to do the work he now enjoys. "People couldn't understand the risk." A close friend of his dared him to give up his job and pursue the art than welled within him--a friend who knew that deep inside this man was the spirit of an artisan.

Twenty years later John Beckley travels across country from gallery to art show explaining to students, fellow artisans, and interested listeners how he spiritually creates from wax mold to finished products Afro-centric figures and artifacts. "I start with the mouth and then determine where everything else is going to go," he'll say. "I start working and then...I sort of leave this place," he looks up at the ceiling. "When I come back (down to earth) five hours or so later I've created something... Some times I don't even know what it is until I've finished."

"I couldn't have done this when I was younger than forty-five," he explains. "I hadn't lived enough...hadn't experienced enough. That's something a you can't explain to a young man." The philosopher side of Beckley shines though dark brown eyes behind thick bi-focal glasses as he explains his transformation from pharmacist to artist and now to inventor.

"This process was developed four thousand years before the man was born," he refers to Jesus Christ. "It only took two elements: fire and dirt (clay). All of this was passed on...they communicated with one another how this thing was done...they had to." He pauses to see if his listener realizes the import of what he's just said and then he continues. "They would create the molds out of clay or dirt and then the apprentices would carry it down to the river and cool it. If it broke they weren't apprentices for long," he laughs. "It wasn't first done by Europeans either...it was done by the Africans, Asians...the people who had nothing."

He goes on to explain how man is either drawn to fire or repelled by it. Those drawn to it became leaders. The ones who were repelled by it had to have leaders who explain how it worked for them. The philosophical side of the man continues as he begins to discuss the process of molding, melting, cooling, breaking the molds, and finishing the product. Then the inventor side of John Beckley reveals itself.

He has invented a portable furnace (patent pending) that allows him to melt material to over 2000 degrees, the temperature needed to turn solid ingots of bronze into fluid form. It can be plugged into an household (110 volt) electrical socket and in one hour produce ready-to-pour bronze or other metals. "I can pack it up, put it in the trunk of the car, and go on the next stop," he beams. "I show my students how I can sit on it while the fluid inside is boiling."

He talks about youths with talent but without commitment. Commitment that comes from sacrifice and spiritual desire. Some inner something that makes a man want to give up a comfortable life and risk it all. Many kids today have the talent, but don't know the first thing about commitment.

As videos of his works flash on the t.v. screen in his hotel room the artisan persona again replaces the inventor. "Can you stop it there? I used barley seeds to develop this effect here," he points to the hairline of a female figure. "This was made with a spring from a front door..." A beard on another. "I just pressed it in into the wax, poured the plaster into the mold and that's how it turned out." Other things found around the house are used for other effects: unpopped kernels of popcorn, horseshoe nails, fire hose couplings, baby food jars, shoe strings. Nothing within his grasp seems to have gone unused.

"Amazing," his visitor sighs.

"That's what people say, " Beckley admits.

The hour is late, he's tired, and looks it though he probably won't say so. He runs his fingers through wiry white hair the railroad cap once covered. An impromptu meeting turned into a two hour interview, an exchange of addresses, and the promise to meet again...to share again. John Beckley probably doesn't realize what an inspiration he is to the people with whom he comes in contact. His creations are developing a legacy from which generations can draw. Especially generations of black youths who still see a basketball, acting, or music career as the only ways to feel they've become worthy of society's admiration. A few minutes with this man might inspire some to express themselves in other art forms.

It made "this writer "want to write.

One nite in a motel in KC....

john thomas kelly .... OCT 1995