Premdharma @ Its Prime Media

Jan. 3, 2025, 1:10 p.m.

Spirituality

Premdharma

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(28 February 1952 – 28 December 2024)

Premdharma (Richard Bolingbroke)

by Pratima

I first met PD in 1975 when he was cooking at the Community Humanistic Growth Center in London. The following year, inspired by Somendra, Rajen, and Veet Asmi, we each made our way to the Ashram in Poona. I flew and he joined the hippie bus heading overland to India via Europe, Afghanistan and Pakistan.

In Poona we began a friendship that spanned continents and decades.

PD worked in Vrindavan in Poona 1 and in Magdalena at the Ranch, cooking, creating recipes, meal planning, and collaborating on the Zorba the Buddha Cookbook.

After the Ranch he and I kicked around the Bay Area together sharing houses and apartments with other wandering sannyasins, until he decided to make the move into San Francisco to explore the gay scene there. This was at the height of the AIDS epidemic, a time of great devastation but one that forged deep connections in the community. We, his sannyasin friends, worried about him as he navigated those waters. He started a handyman business and met Sam Zifferblatt who became his first husband. PD began painting in earnest. He and I stayed close, mourning the loss of new friends who succumbed to that terrible plague.

PD was an artist to the core. He worked in his studio every day even when his muse had wandered off in the between times when one body of work was complete and the next had not yet emerged. He refused to paint for the market, following inspiration wherever it led. He was tirelessly creative. From painting to printing, etching, drawing, garden design, cooking, mosaic tiling, he could not stop himself from bringing original beauty wherever he turned. Lately he wrote a biography of a dear friend who had died.

How does one adequately describe a beloved, complex, friend? We were close, we were distant, but the love never changed. He was smart and informed (I could rely on his voting advice in State elections), he taught himself how to fix just about anything; he was reckless, impulsive, utterly spontaneous, eternally underfunded (but didn’t let that stop him). He loved travelling to Hawaii and more recently Mexico. He loved. Fearlessly. And owned his life unflinchingly. I was in awe of his trust and his leaps of faith. Sometimes it took my breath away. Sometimes I wanted to pin him down and lecture him on the practicalities of life. But I liked his carefree way better than my careful one and I envied him his freedom.

In the time I knew him he was a son, a brother, a husband, a partner, a lover, a friend, a bon vivant, a man who lived out loud, contributing all he could wherever he found himself. He supported all aspects of art and gay life in the city of San Francisco, sitting on a multitude of boards to support both communities. He was loved and admired for his bright intelligence and his peaceful style.

He brought wisdom and depth to his friendships and loves, mentored and guided where he could, spilled knowledge and love all over the place.

He leaves behind his chosen family: Steven Gaynes (lower R) his 2nd husband since 1991; his best friend and travel companion Erik Burkett (upper L); Robert Callbeck; and Paul Johnson.

Already, Steve tells me, hundreds of messages of condolence have come in.

There will be some gatherings to celebrate PD’s life and art in San Francisco most likely the first week of February. For more information contact Steve at smgaynes@gmail.com

PD died as he lived, burning his candle bright, doing what he loved.

Beloved friend, I see you dancing in the light. May you embrace this onward journey as you embraced life.

Pratima