03 Dec Brother Ray

I am in state of shock and dismay to learn of the passing of my friend Ray Abeyta. Ray died in New York City on Monday, the result of a motorcycle accident. Ray was 58 years old.

 

Ray Martin Abeyta was an exceptional person. When we first met, in 1980 or ’81, he was part of a crowd of artists, writers, musicians and theater people centered around the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. There were a number of talented painters in this group but it was quite obvious to most—if not all—that Ray was the best, the most talented. In addition to his talent, it was easy to admire Ray. He was friendly, hospitable, attractive—charismatic, in short. We were in a Sam Shepard play together. We were in a band together for a while. We were attracted to the same kind of women—the most beautiful ones. Ray had style and I always looked up to him.

 

Ray moved to New York in 1986 and I was at a party at his house just before he left. There were a lot of fairly wild parties at this house and I was admiring a large painting of Ray’s that was hanging on the wall. I asked if he was taking it with him and he said no, it was too big. I told him I was concerned about it being left in the house and he thought about it for a moment and told me to just take it. I did and it has hung in every home that I have had for the last 25-plus years.

 

I lost track of Ray for a while after he moved (this being the pre-intraweb era) but when I looked him up several years ago I wasn’t at all surprised to find that he had prospered. By all reports he was a well-known and well-loved figure in Brooklyn and was highly regarded amongst the habitués of the local vintage motorcycle scene. He had made a strong career for himself as an artist, married and had kids, was profiled in the New York Times, kept close ties with his homies, kept it real. I saw Ray in August of this year at the opening for a show of his paintings here in Santa Fe. He looked great and greeted me warmly. It was good to see him but it was Ray’s night and a lot of people were going to be competing for his attention. I gave him a hug, told him his show looked fantastic, and left. It felt like the right thing to do at the time but now I wish I had lingered a while longer.

 

It’s hard to lose people. I don’t know if it’s just that time of life that I’m getting into or what, but it seems to be happening with increasing frequency. This is a tough one. Rest in peace, Brother Ray.