Dan Younger

September 4, 1945 – February 22, 2026

My dad, Dan Younger, spent his life paying attention.

He was born September 4, 1945, in St. Louis, Missouri, a city that shaped his identity and never really left him. He passed away on February 22, 2026, at the age of 80, after a catastrophic brain bleed following a fall. I was able to be with him in his final days, and that is something I will always be grateful for.

St. Louis was not only where he was born, but where he built his life. He attended the University of Missouri–St. Louis as a student, where he helped found the university’s branch of Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity, becoming part of the early fabric of a young and growing campus. Years later, he would return to that same university as a professor, helping shape it in an entirely different way.

To the world, he became an artist, photographer, musician, and Professor of Art at UMSL, where he taught and mentored students for decades. He founded the studio area and was instrumental in developing new creative pathways for students, including helping build and expand the animation program. He later served as Chair of the Department of Art & Design, influencing generations of artists and helping define what the program would become.

But to me, he was Dad.

He was the person who taught me how to look at things.

He had an extraordinary ability to notice what other people missed — the small, strange, funny, or human moments happening quietly in the background. He built his life’s work around those moments.

His photographs were exhibited around the world and are held in museum collections across the United States and Europe. His portfolios, including Travel Places, Some Kids, and The Mercedes Portfolio, grew out of his belief that ordinary life — vacations, childhood, family — was worthy of attention.

I was the subject of his earliest portfolio.

I grew up with a camera pointed at me, which meant I also grew up understanding, even if I didn’t fully realize it at the time, how deeply he cared about preserving moments. Those photographs weren’t really about me. They were about time, memory, and the act of holding onto something fleeting.

He once wrote:

“All photographs are self-portraits. The camera always faces inward, even when it points outward.”

I understand that now in a way I couldn’t when I was younger.

His photographs were how he made sense of the world.

And in many ways, how he expressed love.

Before his academic career fully took hold, he was a guitarist and a radio personality at KAXE in northern Minnesota, where he shared his eclectic taste in music and developed his voice as both a broadcaster and an artist. Music remained part of him his entire life. He loved Chuck Berry, the blues, and the experience of discovering and sharing music with others.

He was deeply connected to St. Louis. He loved the St. Louis Blues, Cardinals baseball, and the character of the city itself. He loved its history, its contradictions, and its people.

His students meant everything to him. Teaching wasn’t just his profession; it was his purpose. He believed in his students and in their ability to find their own voice. Over the years, many of them became artists, teachers, and creative thinkers themselves. Many also became his friends.

He was also a grandfather, and watching him with my sons, Zemo and Zayne, I could see the same curiosity and attention he had always given the world. He was still observing, still documenting, still paying attention.

My dad lived an eclectic, creative, deeply engaged life. He was curious about everything. He never stopped making work. He never stopped looking.

His photographs remain.

His students remain.

His influence remains.

But what I carry most is the way he saw the world — and the way he taught me to see it, too.

A memorial service was held in St. Louis, followed by a gathering at Blueberry Hill, one of his favorite places, where friends, family, students, and colleagues shared stories, laughter, and memories.

He is survived by me, his daughter, Mercedes Younger-Tatasciore; my husband, Fred; and his grandchildren, Zemo and Zayne.

I miss him every day.

But I still see him everywhere.

A visitation will be held on February 28, 2026, from 11:00 am to 1:00 pm at Hoffmeister South County Chapel, located at 1515 Lemay Ferry Road, St. Louis, MO 63125. Following the visitation, a Celebration of Life will take place starting at 1:00 pm. Committal service will Follow at Mount Hope Cemetery & Mausoleum.