On Monday, July 21, less than 24 hours after a successful showing of his photography at the Drop-In Centre’s art.works exhibit, James Bannerman found himself reporting a theft at Calgary’s downtown police station. Gone were his camera and laptop, which he had purchased after saving money earned from working odd jobs.
After filing the report, he headed back to the centre, where he lives on the transitional housing floor. It was there where his bag, containing his camera, laptop and prints of his work, was stolen. “It’s almost time for an upgrade anyway,” he says calmly, seemingly resigned to the fact his possessions have all but disappeared into the shadows of Calgary’s streets.
The day before, Bannerman had taken part in the centre’s third official exhibit of work created by its own residents. Displayed inside the Hillhurst United Church, the centre’s residents’ creations were up for sale, with a portion of the proceeds invested back into the centre’s art program. Sales from the exhibition fetched $2,800. Of that, $1,000 alone was from the sale of Bannerman’s photos.
Humble, almost to a fault, about his accomplishment, Bannerman is self-taught and only began shooting last winter. His enthusiasm for photography is obvious. His eyes belie a calm demeanour, and his greying beard barely camouflages the corners of a smile when he speaks about his “accidental” photography. However, judging from the reception garnered by his very first showing, it appears his eye for form and his ability to capture it is no accident.
“What I think is really neat is when you look at James’s stuff, you see life exactly as you and I see life, too,” says Louise Gallagher, spokesperson for the Drop-In Centre. “You can’t tell that the guy who took them is homeless. You just see a guy who has an amazing eye, and his perspective comes through. What we think is this dark society, he can see so much beauty in everything.”
Back at the centre, Bannerman, decked out in denim and his trademark white cowboy hat, shows off some of the prints he has amassed over a six-month period. The soft spoken 51-year-old, originally from Timmons, Ont., came to Calgary 12 years ago with the intention of only staying for two weeks. He has worked labour jobs, including 10 years with one snow removal company. He volunteers at the Drop-In Centre, doing yard work and other odd jobs, in order to stay on the transitional floor, which provides a relative amount of privacy.
With no technical training to speak of, Bannerman began taking photos with disposable cameras. He quickly learned of their limitations and set his sights on purchasing increasingly affordable digital equipment. He says he is inspired less by artistic expression and more on the ability of earning a few dollars after seeing photos on display in local galleries. By Christmas, he had saved enough to buy a small Sony camera and a laptop. With a natural eye for line and form, a healthy portion of his work deals with architecture and landscape, possibly inspired by architectural drafting classes he took many years ago in high school.
“We look at homelessness and see the panhandler, we see the drunk stumbling down the street and we don’t see the human being,” says Gallagher. “We don’t see the humanity beneath the dirty clothes.”
On the surface, Bannerman appears to harbour no ill will toward the person who walked off with his belongings and readily accepts his own err in judgment. He speaks about the experience with a Zen-like attitude and in a hushed tone that barely registers above a whisper. Sitting in the common area of the centre, he was going through his photos from the Sun and Salsa Festival on his laptop before stowing it, and his camera, in his shoulder bag. Perhaps too comfortable with his surroundings, he left the bag barely hidden under his jacket and went outside for a cigarette. By the time he returned, his bag was gone.
Security cameras placed in and around the Drop-In Centre were unable to distinguish the culprit. Anyone familiar with their location would have little trouble in hiding their identity. Stereotypical thinking would have one believe such crimes are distinctive to homeless shelters. Yet, according to Kevin Brookwell, spokesperson with the Calgary Police Service, it occurs regularly in business offices in the downtown core. “It’s not that this is isolated to the Drop-In Centre,” he explains. “This happens in corporate towers where people walk in dressed up and walk out with a laptop under their arm.”
According to Brookwell, the likelihood of any stolen goods being recovered is proportionate to the amount of identifying information given by the victim. The information provided is then entered into the Canadian Police Information Centre (CPIC), a Canada-wide database. Pawnshop owners are required to check the database when items are brought into their stores to determine if it is stolen. “What’s frustrating for [police] is they know some of the stuff is stolen,” says Brookwell. “But if the original owner doesn’t have either a good description or serial number there’s usually nothing we can do.”
Shortly after leaving the police station, Bannerman learns his bag was found outside a downtown bus depot. He rushes to the location and returns with the bag in tow, minus the camera and laptop. All that remains of his work are a few early prints and images he saved on a memory stick. Perhaps masking his sense of loss, he simply shrugs his shoulders, smiles and states he’ll just start up again.
