I haven’t processed this yet.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference in mindset between visual and musical artists. Where I started and where I am. A huge part of understanding – or at least TRYING to understand – that mindset was put in place by the teachings of Doc Thompson, my drawing teacher in high school.
I saw from a friend’s post that she died yesterday, and though I haven’t been a part of that world for literally decades, her death is hitting like a hammer. There was a LOT that I learned passively from her – though she was never passive. Learning to look, to see – and to LISTEN because she was undeniable. She taught me about being jealous and angry and stupid and silly. She was 86 and I do the math… I graduated from high school 32 years ago so she was 4 years older than I am now.
She seemed so incomprehensibly wise. And ancient.
Other friends seem to have truly picked up her gauntlet as teachers and artists. I spend a lot of time knowing I’m cruel but trying to be kind. Remembering her sense of humour, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had that streak too.
I don’t know of anyone else who inspired so many others to teach. Even I took that up for a little while. What better eulogy can there be? She left the world better than she found it.
Random thoughts:
I was jealous because I was a very, very good student. But she seemed to like the bad students better. I understand this a lot better now.
She was one of the only people I knew who would talk about race as a purely visual phenomenon and to not be afraid of talking about it. Drawing Black skin tones. The lusher lips of African American features. Understanding that you can’t be afraid to look at difference because if you can’t see it you can’t understand it.
She was the first person I understood to be a lesbian.
She was changing a lightbulb and yelled “DON’T TOUCH THAT SWITCH” before making a loud buzzing noise, clutching her heart, and pretending to fall over. Scared the Living SHIT out of me.
We housesat for her out on the shore one weekend and watched storms come in off the water. She owned lots of plants, some of which I recognized from drawing them at school. I was honoured to do this.
She was intimidating as Hell. Cackled. Fought for her students and fought for her budget. We listened to classical music in her drawing class. I did not learn to Love this.
Damn. I hate the idea that she didn’t get to Live past These Times. She should’ve gotten to see an age where it looked like she was winning.