He was never just the funny guy on your TV. Martin Mull slipped between sitcoms, studios, and stages like it was all one big, strange canvas. On Roseanne, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Arrested Development, and Veep, he played men who seemed ridiculous until, suddenly, they weren’t—until you saw the ache under the absurdity. Offscreen, he poured that same restless intelligence into music and painting, releasing offbeat comedy albums in the 1970s, touring with Frank Zappa and Billy Joel, then retreating to the studio with the discipline of a Rhode Island School of Design–trained artist.

His death after a long illness, announced by his daughter Maggie, feels like the loss of several people at once: the comedian, the actor, the musician, the painter. He is survived by his wife, Wendy Haas, and a body of work that made people laugh first—and only later realize they’d also been moved.