The phrase “tunnel vision” tends to run in a pejorative direction, suggesting a narrow view and the possibility of missing out on something.  It exists in a similar sense with the phrase “operating in silos,” where an organization or group allegedly lacks healthy cooperation and sharing of historical knowledge.  But there is a tunnel in our midst here in Beaufort where the vision is instead abundantly broad and knowledge is cooperatively woven among all. It is an uninterrupted explosion of spray-painted color and seamless visual inclusion.  And if you visit the Technical College of the Lowcountry (TCL) campus, you can walk through this tunnel any time you want.

It runs beneath Ribault Road and connects the east and the west sides of campus, on the physical plane anyway. What it really connects is the social fabric of Beaufort by depicting prominent individuals and historical events with more modern day notables. It’s about 100 feet of immersive affirmation created by St. Helena artist John M. Bradley Jr. back in early 2019. Bradley says it was something like fate that got him involved, since he was acting simply as an information resource to the project’s curator when she unexpectedly asked him to be the artist to paint local historical figures (his idea) through the corrugated steel tunnel. The result is an immersive grandeur.

Entering from the east you first pass Smoking Joe Frazier, Heavyweight Champion of the World in the early 1970’s, next you

Joe Frazier

shift back a hundred years and there’s Hariett Tubman generating freedom. Further along on the same side is a determined looking former slave and U.S. Congressman Robert Smalls next to an image of the Confederate steamer he commandeered. Across the way is a more modern capture-er of imagination in the face of the powerful and charismatic American Idol winner Candace Glover, a St. Helena native.

Other notables include unidentified Mather School students, accomplished weightlifter CJ Cummings, former NFL player Ron Parker, and a youngish depiction of renowned author Pat Conroy interacting with young minds, likely a reference to his teaching days out on Daufuskie Island. They all add depth and weight with their particularness yet still share the spotlight.  The mural has a gestalt effect: the impact of the whole is somehow greater than the sum of its parts.

Part of that effect has to do with the skillful artistry and melding of colors. Bradley says he used a combination of primer, paint, and sealer throughout those cold January days almost seven years ago and the images remain crisp and distinct. To my eye, it doesn’t go too far into the excess filler that plagues some spray paint art. Certain sections, taken in isolation apart from figurative references, present as floral motifs, or even sophisticated abstractions. The effect of the sheet metal itself, which Bradley pointed out was a challenging surface to begin with, adds a rippling vibrancy. The steel bolts texturize both horizontally and vertically, an x-y axis of bold here-ness and other worldliness.

The Mather School

The choice to include the top of the tunnel makes for an encompassing engagement, a warm embrace from these famous and accomplished folks. On the tunnel ceiling is one additional figure, the artist Bradley himself makes an appearance, hovering like a creative angel with a shy smile and warm eyes.

That impression is reinforced when you talk to Bradley and learn where his heart beats.

Pat Conroy

He is a man of faith who describes his current work as “Ministry Art.” It includes biblical references and Bradley makes no excuses, “I use my art to share my message…my heart caught fire [and I’m] fulfilling my purpose for the world.” He has worked in schools on and off for a while on projects and says he always asks the Lord what he should bring to these children. He knows graffiti-style art appeals to youth, and he wants to inspire them to use their talent.  A kind of an evangelist with a spray can.

Walking through the tunnel several different times was a repeated experience in the exquisiteness of knowing something was lying just below the surface of things (like Ribault Road) and going largely undetected. A sweet secretness that ultimately yearns for greater expression. But if you don’t have a reason to be on TCL’s campus, going about getting educated or teaching or administering or working, then why would you ever stop?

I’m here to tell you why: it’s worth the revelation.