Max Ranft died on June 23, 2022.  He was 93.

You might think that a guy that old was a fossil.  But Max was nothing like that.  He was a giant.  I knew he was special when he was alive, and the farther away we get from his passing, the more I realize how truly great he was. 

I used to think our family revolved around our mother, but I was wrong–we were all revolving around him.  He was the center and we were continually turning to meet him.  There was something grand about him, like an ambassador or an old count.  He would have hated this observation, but it’s true.  There was just something about him that made you feel like you were encountering an older time when civility and hospitality and deep conversation about Ideas meant something.  

He was widely read in philosophy, and politics, and art.  He loved classical music.  He loved his wife and his kids.  And he loved to paint.  He was always painting.

Sorting through his studio last year, we found enough paintings to fill 13 minivans.  And then there were the drawings and the etchings and the sketches.  This website represents just a fraction of his life’s work.

I hope you enjoy it.

-Kate