Richard Howard Hamilton, March 17, 1936 – January 9, 2011
It was with great shock and sadness that I read in the paper today that we have lost one of the all-time best: Richard Hamilton has left the building. Hamilton was the Rock Star of art teachers, the Grandmaster of his little corner of Ukiah High School. He was truly a rare breed. Without him, myself and countless others may never have graduated, made it through the system at all. He welcomed all the outsiders. If you didn’t fit in with the jocks, the A-students, the preppies, the farmers, the future-establishment-kids, then you could talk to Hamilton, he would understand. If your hair was long, if you dressed strangely, if you felt like an outcast then Hamilton had a place for you in his class.
Officially we were creating art, but not always in the traditional sense. While others were honing their life-drawing skills, or painting like the Impressionists, I struggled wearily to find any physical medium to express myself; but Hamilton stuck with me, stayed behind me all the way. In the end it may have been this very struggle to find my identity through my rebellious nature, my dissent from authority, my fight against The Man that became my art, and I can’t thank Hamilton enough for the encouragement, and for just being there, for helping me out.
At times it seemed like a collaborative effort, us against the world, a few outsider students and a couple of art teachers, challenging the status quo, the 1980’s Reagan era/business as usual/walk the narrow line to success style of thinking. In the art department we built a refuge from that world, and Hamilton was our leader. To call the man inspiring would be a huge understatement. His moments of greatness were legendary and numerous. One in particular is worth remembering…
He often railed against the Superintendent of Schools, an official who considered the art department to be a needless expense. Hamilton knew that the Superintendent had an affinity for tigers, so he asked his most talented students to create a large work of magnificent defiance: a large canvassed portrait of a bloody, mauled, dead tiger. Graphic and highly detailed, it was a disgusting, brutal work that hung on the classroom wall for a week or so. I remember feeling a bit shocked at first. But we all knew that Hamilton wasn’t glorifying violence and gore, that he wasn’t a closet hunter with a dark heart, or hatred of animals. There was a powerful message in this grotesque image; showcasing his students’ extraordinary talents, simultaneously demonstrating the importance of art while slyly slinging a personal attack at a colleague of dubious distinction. It was such a punk-rock thing to do, and I thought I was the rebel!?!
I’ll never forget the many priceless moments, all the times he confided in me and let me in on the joke. He was the teacher, a mentor, but he really treated me with the respect of an equal. And that’s the most crucial lesson of all, one that’s almost never taught in schools: that you really are important, an individual, not just part of a machine.
February 18, 2011 at 5:01 pm |
Amen Brother.
February 19, 2011 at 12:07 am |
R.I.P. Moon Baby! What a guy to have affected our lives so much, truly a mentor and a solid man. Tricky Dick has left that good ol corner building at Ukiah High for good…..
February 26, 2011 at 9:40 am |
Thanks for putting some of my thoughts and feelings into words. It makes me want to start workin’ on a mangled tiger, or try drawing a walnut again.
March 18, 2011 at 5:00 pm |
Matt, that is quite an eloquent remembrance from a guy whom I remember as almost speechless. I remember when you decided to do more than just watch from the sidelines and ran for a student body office. I still have the campaign button I made and wore.
Dick would have been proud.
March 18, 2011 at 5:15 pm |
Matt:
Can’t seem to get the Lopes website to let me respond, so here’s my idea: create an ongoing scholarship fund for art students at U.H.S. in Dick’s name. Recipients can be judged by any criteria you choose: need, ability, attitude, etc.
Or, a yearly donation to the department would really supplement a meager budget. Attack the beast in a subtle and sideways manner; it will be more effective. This beats naming the art building after Mr. H., attacking the administration or some other such high profile but essentially meaningless gesture. We always needed money to fund the students, however little it was was helpful.
September 17, 2011 at 2:52 pm |
That was perfectly written…
I seem to have forgotten most of the details of my high school days. Whether I have early altimeters or just an effect of all the parties, I’m not sure. But the one thing I do remember is Mr. Hamilton, his art class and the electric energy that existed there.
This was a time in my life when the growing fire within was finally allowed to consume and transform who I would be. I have always considered my self an artist, first and foremost and it wasn’t until Mr. Hamilton’s class that I realized this. Somehow, he provided a sacred place for his students to blossom and be born.
I don’t remember exactly what he did or how he did this, but this time in my life felt like the beginning of something real, something beautiful, something magic. Mr. Hamilton respected his students for who they were and created an atmosphere where I felt unique and talented. I felt like I belonged to a group of people that all shared a common goal. It was like we had a special magic language that we alone could understand.
I’ll never forget him and the influence his art class had on me.
Thanks Mr. Hamilton