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The death of an artist you’ve probably never heard of

Courtesy Positively Southwest Rochester

A fellow painter from Rochester passed away earlier this month. You aren’t going to read about him in an influential art journal, although his influence has been far greater than many of the windbags who are regularly profiled in the press. He was a modest man who used art for good in some of Rochester’s least-salubrious neighborhoods. When I die, if I can say I used art to do half the good work he has done, I will die content.

I met Richmond Futch, Jr. many years ago, when he curated a solo show for me at the art gallery at Bethel Christian Fellowship. As is often the way, I’ve been thinking about him recently. He was ‘painting in the spirit.’ This is a form of expression where the Holy Spirit works through the artist, often during a church service. “You can do it too,” he told me, but painting in front of a congregation was definitely not my jam.

People painting together at Richmond’s memorial service at Bethel Christian Fellowship. Photo courtesy Christina Vail.

However, that got me started drawing in church, a habit I continue to this day. My church drawings are now the core of what I’m thinking about, artwise. Richmond would be the last person to say “I told you so,” but he might be shaking his head at how long it’s taken me to come around to his way of thinking.

Richmond told me about his conversion experience. Deep in the grip of addiction, completely on the skids, he was getting ready to kill himself. “If you don’t have any use for your life, I can use it,” Jesus told him in one of those rarer-than-hen’s-teeth, Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascus experiences. Richmond went on to faithfully serve his community for decades—art for the homeless, art for the community, art for kids in Haiti and, above all, patiently, kindly listening to people who needed hearing.

Richmond in Haiti, photo courtesy Sarah Brownell.

One of his friends, Sarah Brownell, wrote that he was “always thinking about how the people of Rochester could be touched and healed, especially the most vulnerable. You were a true champion of the poor, seeing and sharing their humanity, their goodness, their value and their talent.”

I’ve been talking to my class about the nature of calling in art, and I’ll write about that in practical terms on Monday. But I’ve wriggled around my own calling ever since my buddy Erla GuðrĂșn ArnmundardĂłttir Beausang collared me last fall on the subject. I’ve had several kicks in the pants since then, and Richmond’s death is one more.

Courtesy Bethel Christian Fellowship

Richmond took his artistic talent to the streets of Rochester and used it not for self-aggrandizement, but to help others. Basically, it’s never a question of whether we can; it’s a question of whether we’re willing.

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