![“Kate's 4th of July Dream,” 1979 Holy Cross Brothers' Lake House, Austin, Texas. Photograph © Rick Williams](/cms/asset/dc397989-b730-4b00-8839-a995fe985e26/hvcq_a_1526565_uf0001_b.jpg)
The email's subject line had one word, “Rick.” For the past six weeks, I've been trying to process the impossible: my dear friend, teacher, mentor and father figure Rick Williams, is gone.
I met Rick in 1988 when he guest lectured in my first photography class (which was taught by Julianne Newton); but our heart connection went back further than that, because he had been a childhood friend of my mom. When we met, I could see and feel the fondness he had had for her once, and knew that his big heart also had room in it for me. For the next 30 years, Rick and Julie were my teachers and mentors and became my family.
Rick taught me more than photography. By his example, and through his talent and compassion, he taught me to see, which means to feel. At its best photography is alchemy – transforming light (the physical) and vision (the metaphysical) into something tangible to look at and feel as something more than line, shape, form, texture and color. Rick brought deep perspective and emotional tone to all his work. He knew we saw images with our hearts, because that's how he saw all things. As his daughter so beautifully said, “he listened with his eyes, taking in every form of language being offered.” He listened with his eyes and saw with his heart and taught thousands of students to try to do the same. Rick's theory Omniphasism is the academic articulation of what he knew and embodied in his life: that the intuitive and rational are equally important not just in cognitive development and understanding, but in functioning fully as a human being.
Rick was a light that recognized and appreciated the light in others, in all the different ways it shines. My life was forever changed by Rick Williams, and we are all blessed that he could share so much of himself through his teaching, writing and photography.