Our house had a circular driveway, with a low spot near the garage that was a seasonal puddle. There was rainy season, car washing season, watering the lawn season, slip-n-slide season, all of them filled the puddle. In retrospect it was a Superfund site, given the amount of oil, degreasers, and other solvents that were dumped on the driveway. To us it was a playground: one more place to ride bikes through, to pull wagons through, to throw rocks in, and in John's case to stomp around in his beloved rainboots. This photo was taken late in the day, and given the distribution of dirt on his body, the stillness of the water, and his posture, I'm guessing that John was holding a rock behind his back.
This is the quintessential John, c. 1973. He's in the driveway on the oil-stained asphalt holding a plastic screwdriver, and has probably just finished working on his pedal car. I consider this the first photograph I ever took that I'd be happy to hang in a gallery today. It's Anti-Arbus.
Everybody loved John, and John was a poser. I'm sure that Sean called him to sit in the chair with her, and John probably grabbed her beer can when I pointed my camera at them. This was the summer of 1973. Sean was around 17 at the time. We had a lot of beer in those days.
