Amongst everything crushing, when Barbara Hammer grabs your hand after a screening, you are reminded of what is powerful and radical and what are supreme moments of joy.

Courtesy Kelly Sears

Rest in power, Barbara Hammer. Thank you for your fierce commitment to experimental lesbian art and filmmaking, for your generosity, and force of life. I am forever grateful that you graced my film, The Cancer Journals Revisited, with your inimitable presence, and kept me afloat with your sustaining support of it.

Courtesy Lana Lin

it is with a heavy heart that i announce the death of my beloved teacher & mentor, the woman who planted the seed in me that made me the artist that i am today.

let us celebrate this death that Barbara Hammer was embracing, this death on her own terms. let us celebrate everything that Barbara taught all of us about living and dying.

gracias mi amiga, mi maestra. gracias mil.

vale, my dear teacher, my dear dear friend, Barbara Hammer …

my heart breaks, and is filled with gratitude for all of your kindness, all of your warmth, your teachings, your dear dear friendship …

with my eternal appreciation, and all my love …

Courtesy Jeremy Fernando

My aunt Barbara Hammer is one of the fiercest beings I have ever known. She died this morning but her legacy will powerfully thrive because of all the love and energy she shared with us all. I’m surrounding my aunt Florrie with so much light and love. We must all continue to make art, challenge the norms and live our best lives.

Thinking, like so many others, of Barbara Hammer.

Just knowing that she existed and was making films made me feel emboldened, like someone was up ahead, blazing a trail, cutting through the thicket of bullshit and barriers, even if I, of course, could never follow directly in her path. Who on earth could! I’ll never forget how she first approached me — with a big smile after a screening of my first film and she treated me as though I were a peer even though I was just starting out. That kind of enthusiasm and generosity from an elder in the field means a lot.

I was so grateful to get a glimpse into her creative process, her loving partnership, her life. Thank you Barbara for being you fearlessly, always.

Courtesy Astra Taylor

I guess we only met once. But I do remember well that at a screening of my film Sleepy Haven at San Francisco’s Roxy Theatre Barbara got loud. The audience of the LGBT Film Festival had expected a bit more nudity and narrative continuity than my film had to offer, got nervous and noisy – until Barbara stood up shouting at the crowd: “Shut up, folks, it’s experimental!“ – I’m still grateful, I’m still laughing. Goodbye, Barbara!

I’m so sad to hear that the brilliant, towering, revolutionary filmmaker Barbara Hammer had died. I had the privilege of meeting her when I used to work at the Sundance Film Festival and her example was an inspiration to us all. 26 years older than me, she always had the energy of someone half my age. One year in Park City, I saw her square dancing at a party one night and skiing the next morning. All week long she was watching four or five films a day and fielding questions at the screenings of her own film. Every queer artist who came along after her is in her brilliant, life-affirming debt. I’m so sad that she’s no longer with us.

Courtesy Daniel Humphrey

There are really not enough words to express how important, influential, badass, beautifully relentless, beyond, beyond, beyond, a fucking force of radical amazingness Barbara was. The first time I met her in person about 15 years ago, she said to me “I hope I live long enough to see someone remake one of your films!” Barbara pushed me hard and always with love and encouragement. Let us bask in her unbelievable legacy. Thank you for giving me the time and for SEEING me Barbara! thank you for making so many people feel special and empowered! I promise to keep fighting and fucking with strong queer feminists fists.

I volunteered to pick Barbara Hammer up at the airport in Columbus almost a decade ago. The drive back to Athens, OH solidified a friendship that I will alway cherish. In between then and now, I rode my motorcycle from Ohio to NYC to see Barbara perform at the Kitchen, I assisted her on countless projects, I performed with her, worked in her studio, cleaned prints for her, moved boxes, and one time I picked her up at home and wheeled her to the Whitney after she broke her leg jumping off a stage. Barbara was a true inspiration and a warm, welcoming friend. Her strength and resilience are aspirational but the greatest lesson we can take from her life and work is to pursue joy through creative play! She described herself this way at the screening of her film, Welcome To This House at MOMA, “I don’t want to go to the moon but I do want to have small adventures in my life”. Knowing Barbara was one of the greatest adventures of my life and I’ll be conjuring her spirit ever time I teach, lecture, and make my work in the world. She’s with the stars now, closer to the moon than ever. And I’m running my fingers over the words she wrote to me in her book to feel the tracks that the pen left on the page.

Courtesy Kris Grey

Courtesy Kris Grey