Hak

"Just want you to know that our wonderful Hak died peacefully in his sleep around midnight. There was no major cause except readiness of mind, spirit and body to go."

I received this in an email this morning, from my father's aunt, Jean. The person she is referring to is her husband, my great uncle Hak. Hak was an amazingly interesting soul, and I'd like to talk a little bit about him.

Before he married Jean, he worked on a deep-sea fishing boat in the Gulf of Mexico. In the mid-forties, he was a margin clerk for Merrill Lynch, something that is somewhat humorous when you read more about his free spirited lifestyle. But despite those careers, his true occupation was art and he worked various jobs while taking classes and painting whenever he could.

In the 60s, Hak and Jean opened a gallery in their New York apartment where they displayed their work (Jean does photography and pottery) and the work of their friends. He created several underground comics and illustrated several works. At this time he supported the civil rights movement and helped men avoiding the Vietnam War draft. Later in the decade, they moved into a log cabin in New Jersey, where they have remained ever since. In more recent years he started a website and a blog where he mostly talked about art and politics.

It is difficult to describe their cabin without actually seeing it. It is simple, and reflects their lifestyle. The only sign of technology is Jean's computer and printing equipment for her photography (she's switched to digital in the last few years). A spiral staircase leads upstairs to a loft, where Jean and Hak sleep. Outside is the woods, and a bird feeder that Hak built and proclaimed that it was the only truly squirrel-proof feeder. The kitchen (filled with vegan food) and living area are in the same space, with a small table separating them. And everywhere you look, you see Hak's painting. Some are hanging, but most are stacked up against the wall. Tim and I spent an afternoon looking through them once, and we still didn't see all of them. The images sometime mix with words, sometimes the images just speak for themselves. Anti-war, anti-consumerism, anti-animal cruelty...These are just a few of the subjects that Hak brushed on his canvas.

His art is amazing to absorb - both the beauty of the colors and the messages that he left behind. His paintings have appeared in several shows, and even in concert productions in New Jersey. Back in 2001, he was interviewed by the New York Times. But as he says in that article, he didn't do it for the money or the fame. He didn't even care if his were the only eyes that ever saw his work. "I get out of bed and work in the morning and that enables me to connect with my life or existence or whatever," he remarked.

He was someone who I never truly appreciated until recently. He was someone who chose his words carefully and deliberately, sometimes with scathing hilarity, sometimes engrossing bits of wisdom...Sometimes both simultaneously. He was difficult for a child to understand. He spent the majority of my grandparent's 50th anniversary party taking a walk around their property. Some might view that as rude, but I think it just followed the way Hak thought. Why exchange the pointless chit-chat with someone you'll never see again? Hak would have rather been out in nature.Hak didn't really believe in doctors. He was 89 years old, and up until last year, he was fairly sturdy. He simply woke up this morning and said ''Ah, I'm still here.'' He knew he could be gone at any moment and that didn't scare him, I think he embraced it. He didn't die in a hospital, hooked up to IVs and machines. He died in his cabin at home, after a full productive life, and I find that such a blessing. I may not have gotten to know him as well as I would have liked, but I am so happy to have had the chance to know him. Peace, Hak.

"It just comes out of chaos. I have a vague idea of what I'm going to do, and I keep changing it and changing it until the color and the value is just right, and that's about it"