Kip was a beautiful force. He lived 88 remarkable years through wildly disparate eras, with an extraordinary consistency of self. Born in 1939, shaped by the Depression, the war, and the 1950s, Kip reinvented himself time and again, with curiosity and presence. From Weston quarterback to RISD art student, from Beat Cat to Aspen ski Patrol; from hopping trains across Keroack's "America" to Soscalito houseboat-society, from meditating in Fez to organizing happenings in 1970s SoHo. From NYC loft-life with his "judy-girl", to realizing the dreams of the back-to-nature movement in his beloved “Shangri-La” on Christian Hill, to the realities of parenthood and the building of a business. From beautiful son to irreverent artist, loyal husband to passionate businessman, present father to proud grandfather, and finally, to a quiet and peaceful death. What an incredible time to be on this earth and to have made so much of it... the sum of his life experiences blending into one emmersive canvass that has been Woodbull. The milestones of Kip's life can be traced in his timeline, but the extraordinary way he moved through the world cannot be captured in dates and facts. His lifelong commitment to self-exploration, his appetite for the unfamiliar, his dry sense of humor, his eye for beauty, and his deep curiosity about what lay beyond the known were part of everything. We have never known anyone else who so naturally embodied his own personal code while living so completely free of the shackles of convention and societal expectation. He both loved us deeply and followed his own life's course with absolute constancy. Kip and Judy had a love affair for the ages. We were privaliged to see the world through his lense and to get to see him engage with it- as a master craftsman who's medium was life. From Kip, we inherit our love of travel, our hunger for the untasted, our drive to know ourselves through the perspective and relativity that only wandering can bring. We inherit his genuine openness to the “other,” his fearless curiosity for the unknown, and his instinct to find beauty where others might not look. From Kip, we get our values and our motivations. He is still our magnetic north. Kip died peacefully at home held by Judy and his family. We had days of comfort, music and love. We filled the room with stories, watched old slideshows, listened to beat poetry, and heard his granddaughter sing him folk songs. We imagined him as a bodyless form of his own energy, being rejoined with that of his son Zeven, the loved ones he missed, and his old horse hoot. ...And we imagined him in the sunshine on his beloved rooftop in Tangier, listening to the call to prayer, looking out over the alleys of the Soco Chico, with an idea for a new painting in his mind. Please share your memories of Kip here. We will gather them over the winter, and in the spring, we will come together at Wood Bull for a memorial and celebration of his extraordinary life.