09/24/2026
With the recent passing of Peter Max, I’ve been reflecting on his extraordinary creative legacy—and on a portrait he created of me that carries a remarkable story of its own. Peter’s bold, joyful, and instantly recognizable art helped shape the visual culture of a generation.
My husband and I knew and worked with Peter during the 1980s, and during that time, he created this large portrait of me.
Years later, while we were living in Malibu Canyon, we were forced to evacuate during a wildfire. The sky had turned orange, smoke blotted out the sun, and fierce winds swept through the canyon as flames burned along the hillsides. We made our way toward Pacific Coast Highway—me in one car and my husband in a borrowed open-bed truck carrying a few belongings from our home.
As we traveled north on PCH, an enormous gust of wind lifted the framed portrait from the truck and carried it across the highway.
My husband pulled over and ran to retrieve it. The frame had been smashed to pieces, and the portrait was wrinkled—but remarkably, it was still intact.
We had it reframed and chose to leave the wrinkles exactly as they were. Today, they are part of its story: a reminder of Peter, a frightening chapter in our lives, and the memories and meaning that treasured objects gather over time.
I feel very fortunate to have known Peter and to have this personal reminder of his remarkable talent.
