8:44 a.m. - 2003-10-15
Jack's Death
I found out this morning that my old painting teacher, Jack Dempsey, was found murdered in his home this weekend. I can't even imagine how to convey how shocked I am about this. I can't think of a more gentle, kind and artistically gifted person, and it's difficult to think that this person could be gone from the world.
Even more difficult to think of that person in conjunction with the word "murder".
I had taken just the one painting class with him, and now I'm kicking myself that I let our house fixing up and the rest of my artistic career, such as it is, interfere with continuing to study with him. He was just a technically fabulous artist, and the only person I've ever come across who seemed to have even a prayer of being able to teach me how to paint in oils.
He just had a very clear way of explaining things, and his enthusiasm for the medium made me want to try extra hard, even though I am basically hopeless with anything that involves linseed oil. Jack had taught for years, and painted for even more, and he painted as easily as he spoke.
He was a poet, too. I used to hear him on the local NPR station's "Writer's Corner". In particular I remember a wonderful poem about his cat playing with a paper bag. And just last week he read a poem about war, and how an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth would eventually lead to losing all one's molars and then the rest of one's body in ever increasing chunks.
So who could murder such a person? Bruce thinks maybe the people who did it were probably not random people off the street, but maybe people who had worked for Jack or whom he knew in some way. That makes it even worse for me. That you could just shoot someone, knowing that they were a good person, that they would never harm anyone, just to steal their truck and wallet?
I think I need a serious dose of needing my faith in human nature restored.
Anyway, I once read this wonderful thing by Lucas Samaras, who is one of my favorite artists. He said that all throughout history what really distinguishes humans from other animals is that we create art. And all through human history people have created art, no matter what race or culture, art is always there. And he said that he thought that there was like this long parade of artists throughout history, and when you died you would join this long parade.
I've always loved this thought. That no matter what little I've accomplished in my life, I still have the distinction of joining this long line. Even if I'm just trailing along at the tail end.
And now I think Jack has gone to join that line, too. Except I'm sure he's not trailing along at the tail. I'm sure they greeted him with a rousing Sousa march and gave him a great big art flag to wave, and he's sitting up on some fabulous big float.
You deserve it, Jack. We'll miss you.
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