I could spend hours looking at a Sylvia Ortiz painting. One wouldn't just "see" her work. Her pieces pulled you in, flirted, howled and picked fights. Her subjects were often beautiful women, torn and twisted into shapes. The impossible fluidity of her line and proportions combined perfectly with darkness and beauty. She also gave great hugs.
Her work survives. Her body, after years of fighting could not.
I met Sylvia during Sophomore year at Parsons and soon after that, I met her boyfriend, Lucho. Making new friends could be a little tough for me. I still had some residual culture shock that came with my move from Caracas to New York. They immediately made me feel welcome.
Over the years, I haven't seen them as much as I have wanted, but I hold them in my heart.
My thoughts are with my friend, her husband and love of her life, Lucho. A great artist and a great man.
I love and miss you, Sylvia.