FAIRBANKS — It’s hard to say whether Barry McWayne, who died Aug. 8 after a brief illness, is better known for his art and photography contributions or his kindness and unparalleled sense of humor.

Artist Kes Woodward has fond memories of McWayne. He, like many others, loved McWayne’s sense of humor. He remembered one Halloween when they were in New York City together, walking through Greenwich Village, walking on confetti-lined streets. At one point a group saw McWayne and did a double take. Woodward looked over to see the same group of guys with big thumbs up, yelling “Hey, Jerry Garcia!”

McWayne just grinned behind his staticky hair and cottony beard and gave them a thumbs up back.

Or when longtime friend Charles Mason went to pick up his new Canon camera from the local camera shop. Mason had ordered his as soon as he could and bragged to McWayne that he was going to get it first. When Mason got a call from the shop owner, he rushed down to pick up his new camera. As soon as he got there, he saw McWayne, in his car, holding the camera up and grinning widely. He had ordered the camera as well, and asked the shop owner to call him first, so he would beat Mason.

But it was, as always, in good fun.

“I don’t remember him ever having a mean tone or a disagreement,” Mason said.

Many of McWayne’s friends said his passing was too soon for the man who had retired only a few years before. His website still says that he has shows planned into 2011.

But despite the loss, McWayne left behind a legacy of encouraging young photographers in Alaska, curating one of the best fine art collections in the state and leaving behind a stunning collection of his own photography.

Early Alaska days

Photography was never far from McWayne. Born in Chicago in 1943, his father was a photographer for United Airlines. He spent his early years working with him before moving to Los Angeles where he worked as a “kidnapper,” a photographer that went door to door, asking to take pictures of children only to come back a few days later to sell them photo packages.

Eventually photography led to him to the San Francisco Bay Area, where he met fellow photographer Malcolm Lockwood with whom he immediately struck up a friendship. At the time, Lockwood lived in Fairbanks but spent

winters in the Bay Area.

He suggested McWayne head to Fairbanks.

McWayne decided to do it. At first, he worked at Lockwood’s camera shop before being offered a job at the University of Alaska museum as a staff photographer in 1970.

At the museum, McWayne took photos of the exhibits, staff and anything else that needed to be photographed. Eventually, he began curating the museum’s photography collection and collected works from Alaska photographers and other well-known photographers who had photographed Alaska.

“Every photographer liked him,” said friend and fellow photographer Dennis Witmer. “He had a checkbook.”

That was how Mason met McWayne. At the time, Mason was a young photographer who had just moved to Fairbanks. McWayne called him and asked him to bring by some of his best photos, matted.

Mason said he didn’t have (and couldn’t afford) to have mulitple prints matted. He told McWayne, who told him to come by his office anyway and to bring one mat.

When Mason got there McWayne asked him to show him each photo, matted. So Mason would mat one photo and bring it to McWayne, who would study the photo and then give it back to Mason. Mason would take the matted photo and replace it with another until McWayne had seen all 12 prints.

McWayne ended up buying three photos from him. Mason said it taught him a valuable lesson.

“He taught me to take my work seriously, to not be flippant about it,” he said.

Woodward met McWayne in the 1970s when he was a curator at the Alaska State Museum in Juneau. He said McWayne easily collected over 2,000 photographs, of a variety of styles and approaches. In the 1980s oil money was strong in the state and McWayne had plenty of buying power.

“I can’t tell you how many young photographers told me how much it meant to them to have their work validated,” Woodward said.

He said that McWayne brought an unprecedented level of organization to both the photo and, in his last 15 years as curator, the fine arts collection. But it was his sense of quality that shined through.

“He didn’t have a narrow vision of style,” Woodward said. “He wanted work of the highest possible quality.”

Making

images “sing”

McWayne’s own photography style was, admittedly, conservative. The majority of his works focus on black-and-white photography, often landscapes or clear close-ups.

“They were very formally composed and thoughtful, not chaotic,” Mason said. “He was concerned with tonality, all elements of the image. He would tell you he was there to convey beauty.”

Every year, starting in 1990 and with only a few exceptions, Mason and McWayne went on a yearly photo trip, usually to the southwestern United States. Despite their different photo styles — Mason, as a photojournalist has a slightly less composed style — they were the best of friends.

“It was unusual, most people don’t have a chance to have a friend of that depth,” Mason said.

He said McWayne thought about every inch of the photograph.

McWayne also was one of the first photographers in Fairbanks to embrace digital photography. Photographer friends said he always kept up on the newest technology and always kept up with new equipment. When he built a new house eight years ago, it didn’t include a darkroom.

“He saw it coming,” Mason said.

Witmer said McWayne spent years trying to make a digital print look like a silver gelatin but eventually realized the mediums were different, with their own pros and cons.

“He ended up being happier with print than gelatin,” Witmer said.

Mason said that McWayne had an incredible command of technique, especially when it came to the print.

“He had a huge skill in making that image sing,” Mason said.

Retiring

McWayne retired from the museum in 2007, but that didn’t slow him down.

“He shot (pictures) like crazy, like a young person at 67,” Mason said.

In his 30 years as a photographer he held over 150 exhibtions in Alaska and in other parts of the country. He was the founder of both the Camera Arts club and Photo Lunch, a weekly, informal gathering of photographers that has been meeting every Tuesday since the 1970s.

“We had a continuing conversation for decades,” Witmer said.

McWayne stayed busy, Mason said. But his photography and work ethic kept him going.

“The thing about him, he figured it out,” Mason said. “He lived life to the fullest.”

McWayne was a huge supporter of his wife, Dorli, principal flutist of the Fairbanks Symphony Orchestra and flute instructor at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. He would take photographs and help her record music. He was also the past president of the Fairbanks Symphony Association and the Fairbanks Concert Association.

The museum may not have any large placards that show off McWayne’s dedication, but on the second story of the museum, a small alcove opens up, large window looking out over Fairbanks. Various art books are scattered over tables. It’s labeled as the “Living Room,” a warm, well-lit area when patrons can take a moment to relax, enjoy the scenery and read about the art they’ve just viewed. A small placard, quick to miss if you’re not looking, has McWayne and Dorli’s name on it, noting their donation to help create the area.

A small gift from someone who gave so much to arts in Alaska.

Contact features writer Suzanna Caldwell at 459-7504.