memories
Beth
I met Peter in 1996 when we both went on college year in Nepal. Peter was the most fearless, passionate, artistic, ambitious person I had ever met. We shared so many wonderful adventures all over Nepal together. I will never forget his laugh, the sparkle in his eye and his love for art. I'm deeply saddened to hear of his passing but also grateful that I knew him.
Victoria
Peter As I write, I can see your smile, infectious as it was. I am grateful to have spent more time with you when you went back and forth to New York City. We were talking of collaborating with radio signals and the language that transmission brings. These instruments you made… Geometric sounding bodies omitting radio frequency all talking together in your studio , in a room, the choir cacophony. your curiosity and immense talent. and the dialogue… I'm still listening
Lu
When I moved to New York from Portland, Peter would come and we'd hang. Always dressed in bright colors, and with his boy-ish grin, he gave me the comfort of home as he introduced me to my new one. I got a sense that New York was renewing itself for him. One of those places was Riis Beach / Fort Tilden. We catch the bus from Brooklyn with fresh cut mango and some cold drinks in tow. It is my first time dawning my no-nipple chest, post surgery, and this feels unexpectedly special to do with Peter. Comfortable and cool, we lay around, loving on the scene that this New York City beach is giving. Lucky me, I am hanging with Peter at his best: under the sun, salty tongue, sticky sunscreen, sandy ass mango slices, and half naked people everywhere. So here we are practically asleep, and the tide comes bounding in engulfing us and our things. Drenched -- our laughter iss big, and we scream in delight, that somehow our cell phones are spared. The ocean was telling us that it was time to go. Peter --- I am going to rage at the beach this summer and at Soul Summit in your honor for as long as I am around here. And in a quieter space remember too, all of the things you loved, that you shared with me over these years.
Ranu
I loved working closely with Peter at CCA, but my favorite memories of him were off campus- connecting with him at exhibitions and crossing paths in different cities. Eating ramen in Los Angeles and looking at Tala Madani's paintings together, introducing him to friends at my opening in New York and finding that we had so many people in common across the country. He was the most generous and loving person.
David
Shortly after I moved to New York for grad school, I was moving my things into the studio building at Hunter and I saw flyers for a party hanging on the walls. I was eager to engage with my new school, so I went to the party and that's when I first met Peter. He was one of the first people I met in the city, at that party, and he didn't know me at all but he was still a very gracious host. That was a long time ago, in 2001. Since then, there have been many stories about his impact on my life, and I wish I could recount them all here. I don't think I can. But I would like to share that I spent a lot of time with Peter the summer before he passed. I gave him vegetables from our garden that I was so glad he wanted, I went to an art opening and after party with him, and I enjoyed spending time with him at a barbecue at my place. He really was a presence with me last summer. I will always cherish that and be haunted by it. The last day I spent with him was at Rockaway beach. He loved the beach as I'm sure most of you reading this know, and I think I'll always think of him when I visit there. I hope I do. We were there, my partner Jenny Vogel and our daughters, who have known Peter all their lives, among a group of friends - because Peter always had groups, he was so magnetic. We danced at the food stands after swimming (well, not me, but certainly Peter) but the enduring memory of that day is Peter with our girls. Jenny and I were laying in the sun, enjoying being able to just do that, just to relax, when our daughters Emilia and Josefine, asked to go into the water. Now, you want to do things for your kids, you want to make them happy; but sometimes they ask things of you that you wish they wouldn't. When you're laying on the beach in the sun, you don't necessarily want to get up and get into the water. Well, instead of either one of us, Peter took them. We got to remain on the beach, knowing that our dear friend would make our girls happy, and would keep them safe. A lot of things terrify me when it comes to the welfare of those girls, and the ocean is one of those things. But I knew that if they went into the water with Peter, I didn't have to worry, because Peter would keep them safe. We all miss Peter deeply. He was a wonderful and unique person. His absence is a profound loss.
Sarah
Gina
Wayne
Goodbye, good night, Peter Simensky, resplendent artist with radiant eyes. Here you were, here you are, never to be forgotten, sitting across from me at a restaurant in Portland, 2017. And, in the second photo, here you are on West 22nd Street, a suddenly materialized presence, en route in 2022 to the New York Art Book Fair: a surprise encounter: the bliss of your smiling, unpredicted manifestation. Love to everyone who knew Peter in this brief life.
Flora
I was working in Portland, and Peter being generous and hospitable person that he is, brought me to his favourite beaches and showed me around. 2014, Short sands beach, portland OR.
Lauren
I took this photo of Peter on the way home from the beach back in July. I hadn’t seen him since before the pandemic and I, Esperanza and him spent the afternoon catching up - we talked about art and work and life since the pandemic and dating and surfing and the waves in front of us…which were heavy that day. He had been bicoastal for a few years and refused to surf Rockaway with his regular access to superior Northern California surf. I shrugged off and didn’t argue with his surf elitism - typical Peter - he was opinionated like that. After the beach we ate ceviche at Beach 97 and made our way back to the A train for Brooklyn. I can’t believe this would be the last time I would see him, and how now I would cherish the memory of that afternoon so much. Peter was a brilliant artist - kind, thoughtful and critical. We met in 2008 during the LMCC Workspace Residency and I always admired his work. He succeeded at the difficult task of making work that was both clever and profound, while also having a sense of humor that wove through it. The work was astute and wry, like the artist that made it. He had so much more to do. I’m proud to own a small piece of his from his project Neutral Capital. Peter seemed to be really thriving and I, along with so many, were stunned and saddened to learn the devastating news of losing him. Goodbye, Peter. We were just reconnecting in the sand by the sea…this makes no sense. I fumble with ways to honor someone I respected so much. I wish you would have stayed with us longer.
Jeanne
Something I loved about Peter is that he always made everything fun. Even in the last few years, when neither of us drank very much, and we tried to maintain some veneer of professionalism, we would often find ourselves giggling uncontrollably, often at some art event. I remember last spring, we went to Mika Rottenberg’s opening of the Contemporary Jewish Museum and made the last-minute decision to bail on the artist talk. Instead we got the whole museum to ourselves, and both delighted in the interactive kinetic sculptures, until the security guard told us to stop lest we break the work. The Chair of Grad Fine Arts at CCA and the Wattis Director getting chastised at a museum. Peter had the rare gift of bringing joy to others without hurting anyone in the process.
Jacqueline
In 2019-2020, Peter and I found ourselves in the same program chairs' meetings, every once in a while. But in 2021, we both were in a Wattis Institute faculty research group, organized to consider the work of Lorraine O'Grady. I got to know him best when we were on a search committee in 2022-2023. At one of our committee's last meetings in November, he looked at what I was wearing and said: "I like the blue." I had on a blue pinstripe shirt and broad wale corduroy pants that flared over shiny, blue-black John Fluevog ankle boots. I will never wear that shirt, those pants, and those boots ever again and not think of Peter--sweet Peter.
ruben
We worked together several times over the years and had plans for more. He even threaten to be my producer in whatever feature I woudl dream up. We worked In Oregon Caves, in Taxco Mines, on a shore of the bay area, PICA, his studio and mine. I still remember how annoyed he would get everytime I sipped the coofee, because I slurped it loudly and finish it off with a sigh of satisfaction. Everytime. And everytime it would drive him nuts. "you dont have to drink that loud" and would show me how to drink properly. I honestly kept slurping, still do and I think of him every morning because of it.
Cara
how to choose just one!? Ok, one excellent silly memory is from Snowpocalypse the winter we overlapped in Portland, maybe Jan 2017... It was snowing and freezing rain for days in PDX, schools were closed, roads were closing, and everyone was staying in. Peter had a different idea. He insisted I meet him for karaoke in town. He'd rented a private room. I thought this was nuts. Nevertheless, I got into a lyft with a very brave driver, who practically skated me across the city, after dark, on the icy roads. I walked into a completely empty bar - I thought it must be closed. The bartender pointed me to a door with a purple halo glowing around it. I opened it and found Peter and three other friends having the TIME OF THIER LIVES. I jumped in and we sang, danced, and laughed our hearts out, for hours and hours. The night was unforgettable. Peter did this always and everywhere, warm and bright. What a star. (The picture I'm sharing is from Snowpocalypse by day - sharing in an cold cold dog walk probably some time in that same week).