I woke up Thursday morning and found that one of my favorite artists of all time had passed away. 55-year-old Radcliffe Bailey out of Atlanta, Georgia, died of a brain tumor. And it broke my heart.
Some years back, Bailey came to Wichita, and had a show at the Ulrich Museum. And the Ulrich, in their infinite wisdom, purchased a piece by Bailey from the show called Exodus, which they own today. It's quite large and quite beautiful. And I was really proud of that.
After that show was over, they had an after party at the Fisch Haus, and my wife and I decided to go down there and have a good time. We got there late and as we approached we saw Mr. Bailey out on the dock in front of the building, standing with no one but himself. So I approached Radcliffe Bailey, introduced myself, and he immediately asked if I was related to Brad Clontz, who was then a pitcher for the Atlanta Braves. I said, No, I spell my last name with an S rather than a Z. And we talked about baseball for approximately 20 minutes. The conversation became pretty lively when I told Bailey I was not an Atlanta Braves fan in any way, shape, or form. We had a good time.
We spoke nothing about art, nothing at all, and it was one of the best art conversations I've ever had.
So today, that's what's consuming my thoughts. He's gone. I'm heartbroken. But I can still go visit his work at the Ulrich.
