What resonated with me most in John's work was his juxtaposition of movement and stillness.  I loved that most of the scenes were places that are loud, messy, and full of people (movie theatre, Fenway park, a factory, a diner) or have a clear sense of directional movement (cars on streets, man at the top of a staircase) and they all did have that sense of potential movement but, interestingly, there was a stronger sense of arrested motion.  There was such a sense of stillness in almost all of those moments he captured when stillness and absence were the last things you thought you would find. The man at the top of the stairs had both feet planted even though he clearly should have been headed down the stairs; there was no one in the theatre and it was clean, lacking any sense of the messiness of human presence. The baseball game, which should show the cacophony of thousands of people in an intense situation, instead was quiet and introspective. The game was clearly over and the Red Sox lost.  Framed in the center of the dugout is a single player, without a face, unaware of the crowd in the stands, alone and introspective, perhaps full of self-doubt. It all felt very human and had that tension that good art has when two things that seem incompatible come together at the same time and you can't stop thinking about them.

An observation by Tucker Crum