D.E. May
Dan May passed two nights ago, just one month before his 67th birthday. He dearly wanted to be 67, 77, and 87. When Dan was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he was given just months to live. No one could have guessed that he would make it almost 3 years. He was quite well this past year, until a few weeks ago. His friends in Salem loved him and took such good care of him. His doctor and other medical staff gave him both excellent clinical care and kindness.
The first time I saw Dan May‘s artwork, I instantly loved it. I was amazed at how he managed to make abstractions with such feeling and emotional content. Shortly after that, I met Dan and again felt love and amazement for his his truly original mind and spirit. I was blessed to work with him for many years.
Dan spent many hours in the library looking at books and magazines. He said he didn’t read, but I think he was reading in his own way. He was gathering visual information, just as he did on his long walks and bike rides around “Island Salem,” as he called it. There was really no separation between the man and his art. Being in is live-work space was like being in one of his artworks. It was full of stacks of cardboard document boxes, each carefully marked in black ink; small cellophane bags of found paper scraps, hanging in neat order; a cardboard screen over the window, and very few signs of domestic life. He was blessed with the complete clarity that art was his lifework, his preoccupation, and his destiny.
Dan was humble, charismatic, and much loved by his friends and peers. He was incredibly devoted to both his relationships and his art making.When going into his studio, I would see a piece that I thought was wonderful, and he'd say, 'Oh no, it's not done.' The next time I'd come, the piece would be finished, with just one small precise line added. He would wait until a piece was just right--until it looked like it'd evolved itself over time without the overly conscious intervention of an artistic hand. Dan had little patience for art speak. He wanted his art to speak for itself, and it did. It is a testament to the quality and trueness of his work that those who pursued it were serious collectors, other artist galleries, and people in the arts.
Anna Gray and Ryan Wilson Paulsen recounted how important Dan was in giving them confidence in their own work. It is just the kind of story one hears over and over about Dan. We will all miss him but remember his way of being and of course and most importantly to him remember is artwork.
The photo is of Dan and Curtaor Amanda Hunt arranging his grid of drawings for the Disjecta 2014 Biennial. He didn't like pictures of himself but he did like this one.
