The Spark That Started It All
Nov 17, 2025
For Ray —
The Spark That Started It All:
A Love Story, A Legacy, and a New Chapter on the Isle of Eigg
When Ray and I started Arts Perspective magazine in 2004, we wanted to create something that reflected not just art, but the artists themselves: their hands, their stories, what inspired them and the shared vision we had as creatives. Denise Leslie graciously purchased the print magazine in 2010 and has reignited the spark into a beautiful online magazine. She captured Ray perfectly in her recent tribute, and reading it reminded me just how alive Ray’s spark still is.
Arts Perspective was more than a magazine; it was a mirror reflecting the creative pulse of Southwest Colorado—the same pulse I still follow wherever I go.
Remembering Ray
Many people who knew Ray from The ArtRoom at the Smiley Building knew that he was a steady presence every afternoon in his portrait photography studio. Sitting among images from his zine A Journal of Portraits and the cover of Arts Perspective he shot, Ray was about community.
I first met Ray when he was on the Town of Mancos board. During his tenure, he helped complete the town hall, the community center, and Cottonwood Park. Honored by the plaques that name him, what he was most known for was how he listened to all voices. And when decisions were made at the town board level, he would let everyone speak, then advocate for those who were not in the room. He amplified the softer voices, represented the Hispanic and Indigenous people, and was always just and fair. After witnessing him at many town board meetings, I knew that this Mr. Right was right for me.
Ray grew up in Mancos. He logged with his dad, Raymond, and brother, Paul—who continues to supply wood to the community. His mother, Dolores, fondly known as "Gawkie" taught Spanish at the school and was a librarian. Ray’s sister, Pam, is a nurse who works at nursing homes across Southwest Colorado. She is an angel who was with Ray and me during his final weeks, helping to comfort him with dignity and grace.
Ray and I lived in Mancos for years before moving to Durango. That’s where we started Arts Perspective—a magazine that featured the visual arts in Southwest Colorado.
Later, we spent three years in Washington, D.C., where I worked as a visual practitioner for the intelligence community and co-creator of the Visioneering team. During that time, Ray attended demonstrations and protests at the White House and the Capitol. His work in street and urban portraiture tells the story of his mission for justice—and the passionate people behind it. When I was working on big projects, he would spend time in New York City. He loved highly populated places—a contrast to the small town where he grew up.
In 2017, the day after the Women’s March, we left D.C. to take a gap year, participate in artist residencies, and travel across North America in a 1947 teardrop trailer named Flo. You can read about our adventures at OnTheRoadWithFlo.com. Upon returning to Durango, we made three world lettering tours together. I hung out with my colleagues as he captured the people, culture, and events in Copenhagen, London, and Melbourne.
When the pandemic hit, like everyone else, our lives changed. Sequestered and working from home, my immune system was at high risk. We hunkered down for the long haul. It was two years before we got COVID because we stayed home the entire time. I stopped drinking (Ray never drank), and together we lost over 100 pounds. Fit and happy, we somehow grew even closer—spending many afternoons at The Smiley Building in our adjoining studios.
Ray was the reserved, quiet type. The kind of introvert you might look past, but if you took the opportunity to spend time with him, you’d understand what a warm and generous person he was.
For many years I thought his family and I were the only people in the world who knew how wonderful he was. When Ray got sick and we started the GoFundMe, we were blown away by the immediate and generous support that came pouring in. Every morning I would read off the names and messages of the generous contributors. He would tell me stories of those I didn’t know, and I did the same for him. He would then close his eyes and say heartfelt things like,
“I had no idea people felt this way about me.”
With eyes closed and tears streaming down our faces, we felt cared for—and held.
In his final days, Ray was surrounded by family and close friends. He had the opportunity not only to tell people what he wanted to say, but also to tell many what they needed to hear. Because Ray didn’t live by the golden rule, but by the platinum rule: Treat others the way they would want to be treated.
If it’s possible, Ray had the most beautiful passing.
Ray left us with a legacy to fulfill: Travel, be of service, and above all live life with Love & Grace.
I can’t think of a better way to live.
The Journey to Eigg
I rarely left Ray’s side. And in those final days when family came to stay with us, my mother said that every time I left our bedroom, I was keening.
She mentioned it a few times. I didn’t know what that meant until she said keening was grieving, wailing, and lamenting. I did notice that I was crying, singing, and humming when I wasn’t with him. It was my first expression of grief.
A few days after Ray passed, I looked up keening because I was fully aware that I was doing it. Only now it wasn’t under my breath (except in public). I was crying and wailing quite loudly at home. It became a form of deep grief expression, and when I combined it with movement, it felt strangely comforting.
We live in a grief-denying culture, so there isn’t much online about keening. I found a “Gathering of the Keeners” website. I thought I had signed up for an online course—which I had—but it was also the accompaniment to a grief pilgrimage in Scotland. Imagine my surprise when I signed up and received the “Welcome! See you in Scotland!” email. I was going to cancel, but after reflecting and asking Ray, it was an obvious yes that I needed to go. I’m so glad that I did.
Yet, I knew within the first hour of being on Eigg that a week would not be enough. It took me seven weeks of prepping and six days of travel to get back to Eigg for the winter. The entire time I was dripping with anticipation. Then once on the road I kept thinking: Is this really happening? What was I thinking? I knew the weather would be rainy, windy, and stormy. But we had hiked in rain and hail while I was there in September, and the locals said it already felt like winter. After visiting the sacred sites on the island, I knew I needed to spend more time there. And with a bike and my hiking sticks, I could make it work.
So here I am, on the north end of the remote Isle of Eigg in Cleadale—a place I would never have known about if Ray had not passed. Ray would never have set foot on a small boat or the four-hour ferry, but he would have adored the people of Eigg—their resilience, their stories, their humor. I can almost hear him asking them questions, camera in hand.
I’ll be blogging more about my experience on Eigg in the coming months. Being here isn’t about escaping grief—it’s about letting it breathe, and listening to what it wants to teach me. Eigg holds me, allows me to express my grief, and with all the wind and water, it both matches the intensity of my grief and help carry it away.
Ray's Legacy Continues
Ray and I supported and started a number of community art projects, including Sharing the 81328 Perspective—a community photography project and exhibit that continued for years after we left Mancos. Ray enjoyed photographing people, and I enjoyed writing about him, the people we met, the places we visited, and my own bodies of work.
This new chapter brings together everything that’s been waiting quietly within me—lettering, writing, photography, and facilitation—as I continue forward with Ray in my heart, I am devoted to living out his legacy of helping others see beauty, express themselves, and live in service to others.
To read more about Ray and his love for artists and the arts, visit the reintroduction of Arts Perspective magazine:
https://artsperspectivemag.com/the-spark-that-started-it-all-in-memory-of-ray-martinez/
Images and quotes featured on this page are from Ray's solo show: Artist Statement featured in August 2025 at Studio &, just days after his stroke.
For Ray...the tide carries your spark, still bright as ever.
In the next post, I’ll share what it’s like to live and create on Eigg — where the tide’s rhythm and Ray’s presence guide me each day.
And I’ll keep writing…
After the Tide
Standing where the water once was,
the sand still breathing its memory.
Grief shimmers like salt left behind—
a trace of love that the tide could not carry away.
The waves will return; this is known.
They crash, take me down,
then cradle me all in the same motion.
Whispers of endings
and beginnings that sound the same.
There is mercy in the pull of the tide,
strength resides in the soft undoing.
It holds me—
the ebb, the ache, the quiet repair—
and in its rhythm,
Flow...breathing light in me once again.
© Heather Leavitt Martinez, November 2025
