Vision Beyond The Lens by -J.J. McQueen-

It’s been nearly 60-years since the bus made its’ memorable mark on American history.   For decades buses have been responsible for transcending subjects like music, race, politics, economics, civil-rights, and education.   They have been the primary catalyst for evolution, and change.   I’ve often thought that the bus could be compared to the barbershop.   I mean that with respect to the similar degrees of monumental discussions, and movements taking place in parallel. Much like the barbershop, the bus has fostered many conversations with all of its' subjects sitting in one place.   It was around the ages of 5 or 6 when this lesson began manifesting for me. In my youth, my mother and I would take frequent bus rides from High Point, North Carolina to Pittsboro, North Carolina, where grandparents lived. On those rides I can remember taking it all in.   There was something about the sign locations, the view, the smells, the sounds, and even the routes that we traveled that h

With the opening Friday Night of the 2014 high school football season on the horizon, every barbershop in every small-town in America is probably buzzing with the conversation of who are greatest high school football players of all time.  It's a valid question considering the pool of talent that passes through most small towns.  People often wonder where these guys end up long after their playing days are over.  I've often asked the same question about many of my ex-teammates. Two in particular, Darius Brewnington and Kenny Shaw. If you were an athlete in the early 1990's they were arguably considered two of the most influential athletes in North Carolina's rich high school football history.  Unfortunately, like many other high profile athletes life happens.  However, even with the growing pains of life every man has his day of redemption.  With Darius and Kenny being former teammates of mine I wanted to see for myself who they are 20 years removed from fame. So t

Several days ago I stopped to talk to one of my neighbors about a vacant private pool property in our neighborhood. We briefly shard our perspectives on the what if's of the property, and the countless possibilities for the local children if it were open. Needless to say many of the residents where we live share the same vision. Ironically days after that conversation, I had the pleasure of witnessing two middle school aged girls jumping the fence to play basketball at the property. Usually I wouldn't think much of this observation but being a father with two daughters, I couldn't help but notice. Especially when they're no trespassing signs posted everywhere.  However, me thinking like a rational adult, I had to quickly remind myself to think like a kid and note that the fence obstacle wasn't going to be the girls end all for getting some shots up.  On the heels of the conversation with my neighbor it was confirmation that we're all on one accord. So,

In the late 1980's to early 1990's, my father and I spent a tremendous amount of time together. My dad was my AAU basketball coach, mentor, and our in-house social activist. For anyone that has lived with a person of this stature, you understand that the constant element that comes along with being related to these types of people is, facial recognition. Today's photo assignment was an important reminder of the impact of my fathers' influence. Twenty plus years ago my dad introduced me to Oscar. This was the preamble that awakened my sense of awareness toward the homeless population. See Oscar was my fathers' childhood friend who'd fallen on hard times for one reason or another. I found this out in the most bizarre way.  It was on a cold winter day and my father I were driving down Washington Street when he recognized a man walking.  I didn't think anything of it because my dad always recognized someone when we'd go places.  Only this time was diffe

Sometimes as a visual artist there's a natural tendency to get locked into a subject.  It often happens when you're completely sold-out to an image that your eyes and your camera both agree on.  This happened to me for the first time in a musical setting back in 2011.  I was invited back to my hometown of High Point, North Carolina as one of a small number of freelance-photographers for the inaugural John Coltrane International Jazz Festival.   As always I was excited to return home to see my family and friends, and as usual it was a pretty memorable trip home.  The temperature the day of the festival was nothing shy of 98-100 degrees.  Call time was around 1 pm during the peak of the heat of day.  I'm pretty sure I drank forty dollars worth of crushed ice snow balls before days end.  Fast forward to later that evening and we're several minutes away from the closing act.  By this time I'd worn out my welcome with security by pushing the boundaries of capturi