The two
words that come to mind after meeting John Stanley for the first time are
something along the lines of: “Hmmmmmm … interesting.” He’s tough to figure out,
tough to pin down.
A native
who still lives in the Leland home in which he grew up, Stanley describes himself as “backwoods
Leland.” He comes from the old South and unashamedly describes himself as a guy
that likes to, “…cuss and drink beer.” His past and present include things like
hard times, hand-to-hand combat, art of all
mediums,
charity, tattoos and, most importantly, motorcycles.
Stanley grew up in Leland when it was just another tiny Southern
town at the coast of North Carolina.
He says that Leland was “a tight-knit town that was on the honor system. People
knew if you were a stealer and they knew if you were honest.” There were no
binding contracts; only one man’s word to another.
His father
and uncles were always into motorcycles. They worked on them, rode them and
spent time out in the garage cranking wrenches, customizing the bikes. Stanley’s father ignited a spark inside of Stanley by introducing
him to model cars. He would help Stanley
put together the miniature cars, explaining to him the parts, what they do, how
they fit together, and showing him first hand how to customize a real car.
The next
step was that his father gave him an airbrush and a small air compressor so
that he could paint his model cars. He enjoyed seeing the transformation of the
cars. Who could have known that that airbrush would work itself into Stanley’s life so much so that
one day its image would be permanently etched in ink into his upper arm?
“I was
working with it a lot, and I started learning more and more about it,” Stanley recalls. “There’s
no limit to the airbrush. I mean, in magazines it can even make ugly girls look
pretty,” his eyes glow as he speaks of the airbrush tool, which has grown to be
a natural extension of himself.
One day Stanley’s father came home with his motorcycle scuffed up
from a mishap from that evening’s ride, and he allowed Stanley to use his airbrush and model paint
to fix it up. The interest in painting bikes grew from there.
“I
remember my English teacher saying, ‘You won’t be worth a damn because all you
do is draw all the time’,” recalls Stanley, who was obsessively sketching new
images and experimenting with new painting
techniques
in his youth.
Eventually
people started to take notice. One person in particular was Scott Britt of
Britt Motorsports.
“I still
remember what he (Britt) said to me,” Stanley
says, smiling nostalgically as he recalls Britt’s words:
“I’m going
to turn you loose, but you better not screw me over.” What Britt meant by that
was that he recognized Stanley’s
talent, and he wanted to introduce that talent to the clients of
Britt
Motorsports. He also knew that once the cat was out of the bag, other dealers
would be interested in talking to Stanley
about painting for them. But Stanley
stayed true to the honor system by which he was raised. To this day he still
paints for only Britt’s shop.
Stanley is known for his flame painting
and also for his realistic chrome. He has painted chrome accents
on classic
cars and bikes, which appear to be real, three-dimensional fixtures on the car.
Only when a person gets right up to the vehicle, about five feet away, can they
determine that it is actually an illusion. The key, says Stanley, is to understand how the colors and
layers work together and also
understanding
the characteristics of light which are then mimicked in paint.
Another
skill on which Stanley
hangs his hat is his mastery of “candy” colors. In the automotive painting
world “candy” is the name that refers to a way of layering paint, which, when
complete, creates a finished coat with great depth. First, a reflective,
metallic coat is sprayed down, and then several layers of translucent shades
are sprayed over the base coat. Stanley
describes the end result as a “deep color that looks as if you can jump into
it.”
It is easy
to let Stanley’s
rough exterior fool you. Upon further delving into his story, one uncovers acts
of charity and kindness, delivered through the same medium — the art of painting.
Although he probably wouldn’t admit it, Stanley’s
eyes well up slightly when he recalls the painting of which he is
most
proud. A friend’s father was on his death bed, and in his last hours he
requested that Stanley
paint James Earle Frasier’s The End of the Trail. It took less than an hour for
Stanley to complete
(as time was of the essence), and the painting was hung over the man’s bed for
his to enjoy just before he passed on.
Stanley has also volunteered to help by mentoring students like
Heather Pittman, who learned about customizing bikes, especially how to paint
them, during her senior year at North
BrunswickHigh School.
Stanley has
also given a few kids custom-painted bike and batting helmets. When he has
painted helmets, it has been done at no charge for a few children who are less
privileged. “I do it because I know it makes them feel good and makes them
smile. They’ve got something that money can’t buy.”
When a
friend was diagnosed with leukemia, Stanley
stepped in to help the family raise some money to go toward the hospital bills
by auctioning off a $1,500 paint job.
As much as
Stanley loves
custom painting motorcycles, he has opted to keep it to a part-time activity
and not a profession. He is a machinist at General Electric during the day and
paints when not on the clock. He loves painting too much to allow it to become
stressful, as any job can be. So, for the foreseeable future, he will continue
to create works of art for his friends and clients at Britt Motorsports.
Although he does take on the occasional classic car paint job, he pretty much
sticks to his
passion of
painting bikes. Stanley
is a believer in the adage, “Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the
soul.”
