
For more than three decades, Dylan Prtichett walked into schools, museums, historic sites, sanctuaries, and gathering places with the steady presence of someone who understood the weight and wonder of history. He told stories not to perform them, but to restore them—especially those handed down through African American and ancestral memory. “Let’s be true with truth in our story,” he once reminded fellow storytellers. “Our ancestors are listening.” That belief shaped everything: the research he pursued, the characters he embodied, and the reverence he carried for the people whose voices had been quieted. When he spoke, audiences leaned forward because they knew he spoke with love, depth, and intention.
To those who worked beside him, Dylan was more than a performer—he was a guide. Curators like Martha Katz-Hyman remembered how his encouragement carried them through difficult and delicate work. “Dylan was always there, encouraging us; his wide smile and kind words made me proud of what I was doing.” Michelle Carr Clawson, who called him her brother of 41 years, said they shared dreams, prayers, and the responsibility to “tell the other half of the story.” And from decades of friendships formed in Colonial Williamsburg, the Fifes and Drums, and the National Association of Black Storytellers, the testimony was the same: Dylan lifted people. He listened fully. He inspired confidence. He helped others see the meaning in what they were doing, because he saw the meaning in what he was doing.
Yet it was his approach to life—gentle, steadfast, deeply rooted—that people return to most. His daughter Shannan described how he insisted they know where they came from, not as an academic exercise but as a grounding of identity and pride. Friends remembered how he would say, “Breathe…” when someone needed space to settle. Dylan himself modeled reflection with a clarity that felt like wisdom spoken softly. After visiting his son on his 34th birthday, he wrote: “What mattered was I took the time to say what I said and do what I did. The moment was more meaningful to me in the doing.” He understood presence as a kind of love. He understood memory as inheritance.
Dylan also lived with an awareness of life’s fragility, shaped by losing his father at a young age. Each year he honored that memory by urging others to cherish the people still within reach: “For those you love… love them! For those you relish in friendship, find time to laugh with them. For those you need to forgive… forgive them… It don’t take long to go away from here.” Yet even in this honesty, he carried resilience. During difficult times he wrote, “We’ve been this way before… depending on the community to provide the basic necessities of life and hope was a daily occurrence.” His faith—quiet, unwavering—was a compass that pointed him toward compassion and service.
And so, when people describe Dylan Pritchett now, they use words like peacemaker, brother, mentor, griot. They remember a voice “like drumming through the darkness,” as poet Lara Templin wrote. They remember the laughter, the steady leadership, the way he filled a room without ever needing to dominate it. They remember how he made stories feel alive—how he made them feel alive. His family invited the world to celebrate him not in black, but in cowry shells and kente, because joy mattered to him. Spirit mattered to him. And story mattered most of all. Dylan Pritchett lived his story boldly, beautifully, and generously—and now it continues in every person he taught, encouraged, or inspired to keep the stories going forward.
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You can see more details on Dylan Pritchett with the Story Artists Memorial.
Enjoy this video featuring Dylan Pritchett that includes an interview and performance:
Do you know a Story Artist who has passed on and want others to remember them? Memories? Pictures? You can submit names and memories of Story Artists who have passed on through our online form.
I remember meeting Dylan Pritchett at the National Association of Black Storytellers’ 41st conference—the first time in its history that NABS gathered in Salt Lake City. Dylan was instantly unforgettable: jovial, grounded, and effortlessly organized, a true pillar of strength for that landmark event and for every moment that followed. His spirit continues in the community he strengthened—with every storyteller he encouraged, every truth he lifted, and every room he brightened simply by being in it.
Dylan Pritchett still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.


