My first personal one-on-one Bill Parker experience in the mid-seventies was, quite simply and emphatically, the high point of my life in art. Held captive in the back seat of our car all the way from Niagara Falls to Visual Studies Workshop, Bill allowed me to show him piles of trial and error artwork and research in progress. He responded with such overwhelming comprehension and he suggested readings tailored to my unlikely project with such exquisite precision that it would take me six more lifetimes to absorb it all.
The week before, I had driven my husband, John, to Bill’s ‘Mimesis’ workshop, planning to drop him off and drive back home. While I lingered at the classroom door, Bill, - almost hidden from view behind a quivering tower of books and slide trays - introduced the course with such astounding energy - his topics and insights multiplying and interconnecting with such stunning kaleidoscopic speed and irresistible intensity - that I signed up on the spot, sat down and did not budge all week.
Never, ever, will I forget Bill’s story of his visionary yoga experience– delivered with such powerful dramatic force that it left a number of students trembling. Into this extreme shocker Bill wove the most tenderly loving praise for Tim’s steady, enduring love and Nevil’s beauty and gift for poetry.
Throughout the eighties and nineties we loved to visit Tim and Bill and Nevil in New England, their home at once a cozy welcoming nest and a fascinating small museum and library - every shelf and corner of it cleaner than the dishes in our own house.
Neither of us have ever seen a ghost but we will keep our minds open and always hope for visits from Bill.