My dad Charles Meyers passed away this past Sunday, August 4th at around 8 in the morning.
Those of you who knew him knew that he was quite a character, with a dark-as-night sense of humor and a predilection for awful puns and flirting with service industry folk (in case anyone was wondering where that came from).
For those that didn’t know him, he was an amazing artist, and you can see some of his work at http://www.charlesmeyers.com/
My father devoted his entire life to pursuing his dream of making art. He taught art history, oil painting and watercolor part time at City College of New York for longer than I’ve been alive.
Few of us will be able to say at the end of our time on the planet that we lived our passion every day.
He lived for the last 40 years at the same loft in the East Village of NYC. His entire life was in that loft.
A lifetime of things, small comforts and poisons, college papers and keepsakes and art and art and art.
The stuff that makes up the least important and most comforting/suffocating part of a life lived.
I wrote a little bit ago about leaving a legacy. This is his. All the art, and the lives he touched, and the people who can call themselves artists now because his teaching inspired. And me, I suppose.
He was not perfect, and we struggled to maintain a relationship as I grew, but in the end we came to an understanding and now he can rest.
You did okay, dad.
Be kind to yourself.