I was so moved by the first painting workshop I took with Diane Rath that at the end of the class I cried. Not one-tiny-tear-rolling-down-the-cheek sort of crying, but rather full on snot-covered-swollen-face kind of crying. I was mortified and mystified by what was happening to me and I was struggling to get it together when Diane came over to talk to me. I just blurted out that it had been one of the best experiences of my life and that her class made me wish I could paint all the time and do nothing else. She moved in so that her nose was two inches from my nose and with her immense blue eyes and her delicate voice she confidently said “you can.” I quit crying. With those two words, she convinced me.
That one workshop was a tipping point that sent me on a journey of turning my whole life upside down and backwards just so I could paint. Over the next few years Diane continued to be my teacher/mentor and also became my dear friend. After a couple more workshops with her in Putney, VT she invited me to stay with her at her home in Chicago.
Painting every day with her was such a treat and that would have been sufficient to make it one of the most memorable times of my life but then another life altering event occurred that week. I met her awesome kids, Lucy, Tyler and Annie and discovered that Diane’s youngest daughter Annie was moving to my neck of the woods to go to Boston University. Annie and I were fast friends and spent our time in Boston together cooking and eating and eating some more and talking about important things like how many toppings you can fit on one bagel if you cut it up into microscopic pieces.
Time with Annie was pretty light and breezy until her senior year when the unthinkable happened. Diane was diagnosed with the same cancer that my mother had when I was Annie’s age.
My first visceral response was feeling like a truck had hit me. Diane was my voice of passion and vision in a world filled with voices of reason. I was tethered to her as a source of courage to get off the highway and find my own path in the woods. Then a split second later I realized that a bigger truck had hit Annie and her siblings. I’m always careful not to tell someone ‘I know how you feel’ because everyone is different but I had a pretty good idea about the emotional turmoil they were about to experience. I was also the youngest daughter of three when my mom received that diagnosis and youngest daughter to youngest daughter, I just wanted to be there for Annie even though I knew there was nothing I could do or say to make it easier for her.
That was nearly five years ago and while I still miss Diane, it’s easier now to just focus on how Diane’s artistry and beauty still shine through her children, paintings and words of life wisdom. For example Annie is to flour as Diane was to paint. Annie is an accomplished baker and also a brilliant ceramicist. She can make sugar flowers that are so beautiful you almost don’t want to eat them. Almost. I don’t even like whoopie pies but Annie’s chocolate whoopie pies with peanut butter filling are eyes rolled back in the head delicious. I wish Annie still lived in my home town but now she’s busy being a grown up and taking the baking world by storm in Chicago. I’m hopeful that I will see her again in a few weeks – which is a reminder to eat nothing but kale and spinach right now.
I’m posting this today because it is Diane’s birthday. She would have been 63. Gratitude was always an important theme for Diane and on her birthday she always painted a ‘gratitude painting’ – a painting of something she was grateful for on that day.
I think of Diane all the time but especially on her birthday. I am grateful for her friendship, for all that she taught me about painting and life and for her light that still shines through Annie, Lucy and Tyler.
I’ll close with this. The one thing that every student of Diane’s instantly remembers is that towards the end of a workshop when everyone’s paintings were fairly well developed, Diane made students practice graciously taking compliments on their work. The room would be split into teams. Team A would cross the room to compliment each Team B painter on their work and all the Team B painters were allowed to say was “thank you very much.” Diane would say that if you argue with an admirer of your work and point out flaws you are indirectly telling the viewer that they have bad taste, so the only gracious response is gratitude.
Indeed. Gratitude is the most gracious response for all of our gifts in life. Thank you very much Diane Rath for all you gave me and for all that you continue to give. Happy Birthday Bright Light. I love you.
