Renee Brooks Lofaso Massey
Renee Brooks Lofaso Massey, 45, of Kerrville, Texas, has died.
Renee was buried in the private Grant-Lofaso Cemetery, June 14, 2024, surrounded by loved ones. A Celebration of Life will be held at the home of John Murray in Tierra Linda on July 13, 2024, from 6-9 p.m., 331 Turkey Valley, Kerrville. Guests are encouraged to bring mementos and share stories of Renee, the Yard Art Lady.
On May 31, 2024, against the night sky of the early morning, the moon waned between Saturn and Mars. The temperature steadied in the mid-80’s, the humidity thickened the air and lightning smacked and spread across the clouds of the hill country. The deer (she had named them all Sarah) tilted their heads. In Rubbermaid containers of compost, the red wrigglers wriggled through the dark. Valentine, the dog, may have jumped upon the couch and, as the penned chickens went back to sleep, the spirit of our dear Yard Art Lady lifted above the heart of her home.
A year earlier, Florence Lofaso Murray, her mother, passed away, as well. Catherine Lofaso, Joseph Lofaso, Charlotte Massey, and her pets Mickey, Sushi and Sado preceded her.
Born to a High School Teacher and a Ceramics Artist in Metairie, LA, Renee grew up painting abstracts, cutting collages and feeding on oysters, crawfish, po-boys and beignets. She attended school and camp and, like most kids, occasionally found herself in the newspaper. At age 10, her mother married John Murray, a Coast Guard Pilot, just six months after their initial meeting at a church function. Murray would take the two to National Parks across America and later move them to Eureka, California. In 1993, due to a new military assignment, they moved again – this time to Montclair, VA where Renee attended high school, studying photography and the arts, and making friends to last for, what would be, the rest of her life. By age 16, her parents granted her wish to be emancipated. With this freedom, she moved back to Louisiana to live with her grandmother. Soon after, when Renee was around 19 years old, Murray adopted her. For the next several years, Renee lived between Louisiana and Texas, attending school at the Dallas Art Institute where she focused on videography while making herself locally famous as the only traveling topless dominatrix bartender in Texas.
Renee painted rocks and canvasses, collected bones and street signs. When she lived on Alice Street, on particularly hot days, she left drinks in coolers for city workers at the end of her sidewalk. For the winter holidays, she erected a community tree. Her yard, decorated with collectibles, mementos, antiques and paintings, eventually caused a stir around her neighborhood. A long strenuous battle began between The City of Kerrville and Renee Brooks Lofaso. They called it junk. She called it art. Renee, armed with a well-balanced moral compass and a strong sense of justice, took paint brushes to her truck in protest. She practiced philanthropic shenanigans in defiance. She paid it forward in fast food drive-throughs and, when her case finally went to court, after months of fighting for the freedom of speech and artistic expression, she won.
And rightfully so.
Later, she moved to Medina and became a microgreens farmer, taking care of chickens, wearing a gun on her hip and a handkerchief in her pocket. She drank iced tea and energy drinks on the porch, drove a pickup through town and cooked slow creole meals on her courtyard grill. She often hunted for fossils (like her mother), once finding a racoon sketch on a flat rock. Deeply into local politics, and turning many prominent community members into friends, she regularly attended City Council Meetings in person, reading from hand-written speeches and sometimes just spit-balling about the subjects that mattered to her. What mattered to her? Equality, diversity, forgiveness, support for the under-serviced, under-valued, the under-appreciated and a love for all kinds. She demanded justice for all. She made others feel seen and heard, comfortable to be authentic and was a loyal friend who was known to talk well of others behind their backs.
Often misunderstood, when pressed to make a label for herself, she said, “I’m just Renee.” Renee was just Renee. She refused labels to her identity. She off-roaded. She carved paths where there were none before, gave gifts made of feathers and bones, shot a bird from the sky just to give you a skull for your wedding tiara, brought you to every fast-food joint within a ten-mile radius on your thirtieth birthday for the free gifts. If she saw you on the road, she honked and probably yelled out, “What up, bitch?!?” If she knew you, you were special to her.
Never shy to be honest, she inspired courageous vulnerability in the rest of us. She was the first to tell you she was a recovering addict who suffered a great deal of trauma. She was unshockable. An unmovable force. For presents, she gave away weapons and magical rocks. She was a vigilante first-responder – saving the lives of many friends and strangers in her lifetime. Whether a person became severely injured, lacked the will to live or relapsed into addiction, Renee offered everything she had. She was a caretaker, a storyteller, a truth-sayer and a bullsh*t-slayer. Those who knew her loved her. Those who loved her needed her. She was, perhaps, the most honest and compassionate person in our lives.
She loved Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco, The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones. Her eyes were glassy blue. She wore cut-up vintage t-shirts, baggy shorts, worn-out flannels, a trucker hat and reading glasses. Tattoos ran up her strong arms and spread across her back. They read “Little Renee was a happy girl,” “Everything happens for a reason,” and “Deny me and be doomed.” She had the number 3 tattooed on her left wrist and a 13 on her right for her March birthday. In her last days, she gave herself a sharp haircut, sent her friends loving texts and planned a meal of Chicken Clemenceau.
Renee is survived by her partner Kara Grant, her adoptive father, John Murray, her best friends, Kendra Tuthill, Erika Kluthe, Kristinna Young, Ashley and Becca Stringer, her lifelong Silver Diner friends, Andrew Frostman, Brian Verschuren, and Krysta Relyea, her family, Emily Lofaso Rogers, James T. Rogers, William, Sally, and Lindsey Murray, Kareen Hart, extended family members, Marilyn Bunel and Yvette Kinchen, her dog, Valentine, 24 chickens, 3 cats and, of course, the infinite Sarahs.
As Renee would say, “Thank you, more please.”
#WORD
Kerrville Funeral Home
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