11/30/2023
I've written in the past about my love for Larry Fink, and I had told him directly, too. That helps—knowing he knew how I felt—but still, I wasn't ready to lose him. Despite his health battles, I chose not to see it coming, and now there's just an empty hole. A Larry-less world. All that I can do is keep his memory alive inside me, and I plan to invoke his passion for life, his love of all kinds of art, and his extremely generous spirit whenever I can.
One of my favorite memories of Larry is when I contacted him to buy a print for my boyfriend's birthday. He's a musician, and over the years I’ve made many photographs of him and our friends playing music. Whenever I made a picture that looked promising, I would show it to Smoot and his response almost always was “Well, it’s no Larry Fink.” And I would laugh because it was so true. He loves a lot of Larry’s images, but particularly the one Larry made in 1966 of Grachan Moncur, Tommy Turrentine, and Roswell Rudd, a trombone player like himself whom Smoot had met and idolized over the years. When I contacted Larry to see if there was a small, perhaps imperfect print of Roswell Rudd lying around that I could purchase, Larry replied within hours saying “there are two prices: free and really expensive—you choose!” When I replied I was over the moon, he wrote back with his typical lyricism:
“Being over the moon asks you to
Be a cow Mooooo
The print is done. Where to send. Nothing is ever the end. Save for organic disappearances. Death is a fart.
After the feted smell of start Living life is an art.
Hugs. Lulu”
Not only would Larry give me the print for free, he refused any sort of payment for paper, ink, his assistant’s time, and postage fees. Within days, a gorgeous, luscious, gigantic print arrived. On the back of it he wrote:
“Birthday
The Bone Blues—
Bopping for the next year
Open your heart
Hear the news."
THIS WAS LARRY (aka LuLu)
And I will miss him dearly.
My heart goes out to his wife Martha and his daughter Molly.