NOTE: Michael Breyette was an artist who left behind a powerful visual legacy, a legion of fanatically-devoted appreciators of his art, and a world in dire need of his particular beauty – the images of hope, of lust, of summer, of love – and always, even after his departing, of life.
It’s been a few months since we lost him, and I finally decided to post a letter I wrote to him after his death – my own way of grieving and hoping to heal, and trying to convey to his husband, and the world, how much he is missed. Artists may live on in their artwork, and there is some solid bit of solace in that, but when you know the artist, when you adore the person, that doesn’t diminish the great pain of missing them.
Dear Michael –
Once again I find myself writing to a friend who left this world too early, and once again I feel at a loss of how best to say something that meets the sorrowful moment at hand. Despite a couple of decades of correspondence, I’d only ever met you once – at a gallery show in Provincetown. In person you were just as kind and friendly as your messages – a happy and increasingly rare circumstance of a favorite artist living up to the image and idea of a favorite artist. You were one of the first artists to immortalize me, seeing some bit of beauty in the raw assemblage of bones and flesh that once comprised my physical being. It came at a point in time when I wasn’t sure who I was – and you saw something that was somehow worthy of your artistic pursuit.
I’ve always fancied myself an artistic spirit, but never a great artist. You saw beauty in my words, and suddenly I could begin to see beauty in what I created. The fact that an artist I’d so admired might share a similar appreciation of beauty in me did more for my ravaged self-esteem than just about anything else.
Your talent didn’t always seem wholly of this world. It was fantasy and hope and the embodiment of carnal desire. It was both pure and naughty – a celebration of sex, eroticism and lust. Above all else, it was the expression of beauty and love – and beauty would always be your gift to the world. It remains your lasting, immortal legacy – the physical creation of a body of work that makes living in our world so worthwhile – which is why your sudden absence is so keenly felt by all whom you touched.
Whenever I needed a jolt of inspiration, whenever I wanted a reminder that there was passion and artistically-brilliant execution in motion, and whenever I just needed some reassurance when times felt dark or sad, a visit to your website and a perusal of your work was all I needed to right myself.
It wasn’t talent alone that drew me to your creations, it was the heart of the man behind them. Only one who truly loved others would ever be able to so magnificently render fellow human beings in such a splendid manner. That became evident in our correspondence and shared admiration. When you asked me to write a foreword to your book ‘Summer Moved On’, it was an honor, a privilege, and a humble gift that would never quite do your exquisite work justice.
In that work, and in so much subsequent work that would come in the years that followed, your spirit and love for life would shine through. It was a thrill to watch as you gained rightful recognition and success in such a harsh and competitive industry. Throughout it all, you retained your uncompromising vision – portraying us in unabashed scenes of love and beauty and idealism. You put the best versions of ourselves forward, committing them to paper and canvass for all time, in scenes that inspired, moved, intimated, teased, celebrated, and lived in the way that the best artwork does. You did it so well, and with such remarkable consistency, that perhaps we took your gifts for granted, the way humans tend to do when the greatest artists live among us. I hope you knew how much your work mattered, how much it resonated and touched so many of us lucky enough to view it. I hope you understood how much you meant to me, and to so many people who had the honor of being in your presence or the presence of your work. In so many ways, you remain the living sentiment that beauty never dies, that art always matters, and that good people remain in our hearts even after they are gone.
