" dedicated to mr. hill "

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he was my teacher; endless light and boisterous laughter which carried, a solid presence, that smile that beamed through everyone. support, however subtle. wit, power, a man who wanted the best out of everyone, and commanded that you look beyond the paper/canvas/physicality of your art.

and of course i have to hear from 4000 miles away that this great teacher of mine has passed away, and out from this world. as i am sure with many, there are nearly no words for the impact of this. i suddenly feel helpless and lost all in one moment. i never got to say good-bye.

how can one person change the course of your entire outlook on life. i can't ever use a pencil to draw without hearing him behind me say "hey, try shading that with circular motions and see if you can get a better gradient." it was very annoying at the time, because i was pig-headed about my shading, but he was right. and then later he would give a bunch of us a ride to zarri's for sandwiches in his red jeep.

he challenged your technique without suggesting that you were wrong. he shared and demonstrated that in everyone, creation and expression flourish, and he could be one guide to show us how we might possibly let all of that out. his passion to teach and cultivate our tiny glowing potentials brought to him a sense of grace of which we trusted whole-heartedly, and he never let me down. not once.

he was mr. hill. my first art teacher. when i didn't have a seventh period, he let me crash it for a year, even though he said he wouldn't let me add to the classlist. who would let an annoying 13 year-old just hang out in the art room just because? he never regretted that decision and let me enter advanced art the next year without question, or having me display a portfolio. having allowed me to stay, i got to know the fiber of what makes a great instructor.

that year i won a local postering design contest for the city of albany, ca. out of the entire class of students, i got a cash prize and a chance to meet-and-greet the now legendary/then up-and-coming hieroglyphics. but those weren't the prizes that stuck with me. it was the fact that this great man had in such a casual manner awakened an interest of mine, allowing for the first time, the chance for me to develop as an artist; these are the rare gifts.

everyone that was greatly touched by this teacher has a great memory of him. mr. hill was a friend of the students, a fighter for expression and artistic freedom and development, and he never pushed you in a wrong direction. if he yelled at you, it was because you said you were going to clean the brushes, and you didn't. most times, he was in the classroom, working out a painting of his own design, which of course took on a beautiful, broad-stroked, lovingly-colored palette.

it fills me to the brim of my being with an immense sadness, knowing that even after all that he has done for me, i know absolutely nothing about him; the great mystery of the man who gives everything, so that others can better themselves and their art. this is what makes a powerful human being.

he showed that there should never be a doubt that you can do anything you want. life is an empty canvas waiting to be filled with everything you have to give; the life's work of mr. hill. he taught me that. he was my teacher.

he was my teacher; mister hill.

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