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Richard Bellamy

HE NEVER SEEMED TO AGE; they would continue to call him boyish right up to his death, at seventy, this March. Richard Bellamy’s youthfulness was as much spiritual as physical: he remained filled with wonder to the end of his days. He was an anomaly, the loose round peg in the tight square grid that the art world became. He was called an art dealer because he ran galleries, but that was hardly his vocation: he was the artist’s confidant who, when it was absolutely necessary, could negotiate the real world on behalf of those even more alienated than he. In truth, he was a terrible salesman, so disastrous in fact that he was still losing money when he decided to close the legendary Green Gallery in 1965. Losing money wasn’t easy to do, since at the time Green represented, among others, Mark di Suvero, Claes Oldenburg, George Segal, John Chamberlain, Lucas Samaras, Donald Judd, Robert Morris,

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