I am Christian's cousin. My name is Pierre and I'm living in Montreal. I always had a close affiliation with Chris because of our philosophy of life. Actually I smoke my first joint with him, at my aunt's place in a high rise near the twin towers. Boy was I stoned!
He came and visited me in Montreal a few times. He was such a sweet and unusual guy. Always loved him. I went to crash at his place in Brooklyn a few years back. Around midnight as I was trying to get some sleep, a band started to jam right above his apartment. It went on for hours...the drum, electric guitar; it blew my mind. Next morning I ask Chris what the fuck was going on upstairs, how did he managed to find sleep under all that noise and how come nobody complained? He told me they were russians that recently moved in and they dig music and in the building there's sort of an unwritten code allowing everyone to do as they please. It was perfectly normal for him. Good thing I didn't travel with my mom because she would have raised hell. Still that was Chris to me. Live and let live. He had the kindest smile. I'll miss him.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
reflections from brother Peter
I realize that Chris was very special to a great number of people; family, friends and acquaintances alike. I must confess, I am a little jealous of his popularity.
I know that Chris preferred to look at life with a sense of irony and a humor all his own. Although I've always suspected he experienced occasional loneliness, Jocelyn's sharing of his letter brought this tragic fact home for me and I'm just sorry I didn't know enough as a brother to reach out to him more decisively. God knows I had every chance.
I could not have asked for a more amazing older brother. He and I existed within an arms reach of each other for a span of some seven years. Sometimes I called him, and sometimes he called me. The calls were few and far between, but always a great yearning went out from my heart toward him and for the untried relationship that now can only be a spiritual one. He and I shared many interests, chiefly art, but also movies and music. Not a day goes by when I am not haunted by the expectation which I know Chris had for me to master my creative instincts, as I have all of his paints and art materials.
'To be like Chris' I think it is the secret fantasy of a great number of us. Obviously, there can never be another like him. Who could possibly fit that mold? Yet cosmically, karmically, I know of no one else who lives so deep inside the heart of so many.
It often alarmed me to see how skinny, even frail, Chris always seemed even to me (no fatso myself). Even the material circumstances of his life were embarrassingly spare. The irony is that his character was so robust and full.
Even in terms of the anarchic Punk culture which he so admired, with its credo of "Live fast, Die Young" he seems to have made good: I still remember what for Chris must have been memorable times ( they are for me ) in Boston, where he began his career as a muralist. He was so euphoric about the Punk scene and he would play me these battered, recycled looking cassette tapes that lived on the floor of his AMC Eagle without a single case, all while tearing around pre-Big Dig Boston at illegal speeds. It was all so deliciously random. Small wonder he later broke the axle of his car. Well, I feel certain he must have a white and gold Porsche in the Spiritworld by now.
I know that Chris preferred to look at life with a sense of irony and a humor all his own. Although I've always suspected he experienced occasional loneliness, Jocelyn's sharing of his letter brought this tragic fact home for me and I'm just sorry I didn't know enough as a brother to reach out to him more decisively. God knows I had every chance.
I could not have asked for a more amazing older brother. He and I existed within an arms reach of each other for a span of some seven years. Sometimes I called him, and sometimes he called me. The calls were few and far between, but always a great yearning went out from my heart toward him and for the untried relationship that now can only be a spiritual one. He and I shared many interests, chiefly art, but also movies and music. Not a day goes by when I am not haunted by the expectation which I know Chris had for me to master my creative instincts, as I have all of his paints and art materials.
'To be like Chris' I think it is the secret fantasy of a great number of us. Obviously, there can never be another like him. Who could possibly fit that mold? Yet cosmically, karmically, I know of no one else who lives so deep inside the heart of so many.
It often alarmed me to see how skinny, even frail, Chris always seemed even to me (no fatso myself). Even the material circumstances of his life were embarrassingly spare. The irony is that his character was so robust and full.
Even in terms of the anarchic Punk culture which he so admired, with its credo of "Live fast, Die Young" he seems to have made good: I still remember what for Chris must have been memorable times ( they are for me ) in Boston, where he began his career as a muralist. He was so euphoric about the Punk scene and he would play me these battered, recycled looking cassette tapes that lived on the floor of his AMC Eagle without a single case, all while tearing around pre-Big Dig Boston at illegal speeds. It was all so deliciously random. Small wonder he later broke the axle of his car. Well, I feel certain he must have a white and gold Porsche in the Spiritworld by now.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Memories of Chris by his friend Tom Phillips
Tom's friendship with Chris goes back many years and of anyone who knew him well, Tom probably knew him the best. Here is his memorial of his best friend:
How do you recap a 29 year(!) long friendship especially in the face of shock and denial that it’s over? Where do you start? What is proper to say and not say? This feels crazy but here goes….
Chris was my best friend over nearly all that time- from when we first met in Burlington, Vermont around 1979 ….and right through the 80s-early 90s when we both lived in Boston reunited by some strange twist of fate….and then all through the mid 90s ‘til now when we both called NYC home. We were kindred spirits, not exactly “rebels” within our own families but restless free-spirits linked by our attraction to the frenetic energy of punk and rock ‘n’ roll music and a simultaneous rejection of suburbia and a settling into a kids & mortgage parametered lifestyle. Neither Chris nor I ever felt contempt for our own brothers who were raising families or had “careers” or conventional commitments; instead, we both chose to chase the night and somehow understand everyone who somehow saw things differently be it by their own choice or by the cards they were dealt. What a long strange and fantastic trip it’s been!
Over all those years, Chris always spoke very lovingly of his family even if he was quite adept at compartmentalizing his closest friends far away from his blood relatives. He did introduce me to Peter, and Tony Roy in his art lair across from the Coven Café in Nyack, NY, and later around 2003 or ’04 Serge, Michel, his beloved mom Jacqui, Lindsey, and others who were so delightful in Truro. (I also met, I think, Monique and Paul around their marriage date at a July 4th barbecue under the Williamsburg Bridge.) It’s doubtful that he ever mentioned, when visiting family, characters like Emil the Egyptian or Al Grew or Habib the falafel guy or Robin the German or Haydn or Roberta Nelson or GG Allin or The Wards or Daniel Galvez or Cyril or Felix or Jay at the Marz Bar or Jay at the Rathskellar. These were all important people to Chris for a long time because he loved their spirit and they loved his. Different faces in different cities and places who all loved the essence of Chris- all that positive energy and full presence and interest in what you had to say. Chris would lean toward you to focus on you and your words.
Chris loved, in no particular order: stylish leather boots, scarves, hip sweaters and hats, writing on his dashboard with chalk re: his next appointment, Japanese dating services, bodega “loosies” and fragrant cigarettes, O’Douls or cranberry juice in social settings, rambunctiously tossing non-harmful objects in uncontainable appreciation at his favorite musicians, avoiding airplane travel, good conversation with strangers, The Sex Pistols, edging up ahead of other cars at red lights, revving his engine loudly when he started the car, Bob Dylan, The New York Dolls, my wife Tanya’s Sunday dinners, driving on bald mini-tires for hundreds of miles,
2 AM phone calls with his latest guitar chord, beeping his horn to come out and play in whatever city we both lived in at the time.
Chris definitely did not like: getting stopped by police, mean people, total art ignorance, Rudy Giuliani, when friends got married and couldn’t come out at odd hours when Chris beeped his horn, New England blue laws, snowy weather that thwarted his nightly car crawl, rude and close-minded people, karaoke hosts who got upset when Chris toppled the sound equipment in a spirited tug of the microphone when singing “Wild Horses” in a Queens, NY dive.
I counseled him through: car accident frustrations, apartment relocations, errant police raids at his (the wrong) apartment in Chelsea, MA, business dealings with unscrupulous business associates, crazy roommates, slow times for his “Window Design” company, unrequited love interests he’d pursue…..
And Chris, in return, offered me hope through: divorce, unsure geographical relocations, career shift decisions, a horrific car accident and other numerous stresses that are part of life in NYC. In many ways, Chris was the brother I could always rely on even as a first option before checking in with my own three brothers.
Above our brotherly bond, we sure had a lot of laughs and plenty to celebrate! Chris did some incredible mural work in lesser-known places like Parrots (a Caribbean restaurant in NYC) where he drew incredible tropical scenery, the lowly White Castle fast-food restaurant window in Downtown Brooklyn (that STILL has his incredibly alive birds and tulips brightening a forgotten part of NYC) or even Sid’s Hardware (also in Brooklyn that has Chris’ signature Spring colors illuminating the dreary streets to this day). Not many people know that Chris was a significant contributor to a famous mural in Cambridge’s (MA) Central Square orchestrated by famed muralist Daniel Galvez- known for painting a renowned mural of Malcolm X in the very Harlem Audubon Ballroom that Malcolm was slain in, all commissioned by the civil rights leader’s widow. Then there’s Habib’s Falafel Stand in the Lower East Side where Chris was the artist of choice….that helped him long forget his lone concession to “selling out” to a 9-5 job at Boston’s Seaboard Company (one of the few times Chris actually was part of a sign-painters union). He did briefly belong to a similar outfit when he first came to NYC and was most proud of being part of a 20-story high painted ad for the Bowery Savings Bank (Chris helped draw the stacks of bills in a bank safe). We drove around many times looking at that ad down by Canal Street!
Chris provided the illustrations for a 1987 poetry publication (Rent Free) I put out with poet Raffy Woolf. I still have some of the book’s original pen-and-ink drawings Chris did at the Pine Street Inn where I worked at the time. He spent many hours connecting to the clients there …..and continued this wherever I ended up working even in NY. At one event in 2005 in Brooklyn, Chris came to a Client Recognition event of my employer (Women’s Prison Association) and drew countless portraits for kids whose moms had recently been released from prison. Of course, all the children loved Chris.
Of course, Chris and I ventured to an empty Lower East Side pub late in the late 1990s on a Sunday night where I met my wife Tanya! Within weeks, Chris forged an immediate bond with his other family- my wife Tanya’s family and extended network of friends. Chris was loved beyond words because he never put on airs and was always a gentleman kind and honest beyond anyone’s comprehension. Chris was, for over 12 years!!, there at countless house-parties, barbecues, beach sojourns, dinner parties….and many more evenings at our home having dinner, watching movies, etc. More than one time, Chris would outlast either Tanya or me in spirited discussions of politics, entertainment news, etc. ….all the while nonchalantly pulling out his sketchpad mid-conversation to document the event. Not least significantly and on my wedding’s eve, Chris helped me hang yards and yards of fabric in our wedding’s loft location. He even put on a suit for the occasion the next day and looked quite dashing.
In the end, Chris will outlast us all. The memories, the literally thousands of days we shared as friends, will certainly last whatever days I have left around this Earth. Chris closed his sphere of activity significantly in the last 1-2 years….with his neighbor and buddy George (who I never met) reaping the benefit of his camaraderie….but Chris is alive with Tanya and I in so many ways. What a beautiful person we were privileged to spend so much time with!!!!
RIP Chris!!! And, as you would say upon hanging up the phone….
“Hey!!!!!!!!!!!....”
How do you recap a 29 year(!) long friendship especially in the face of shock and denial that it’s over? Where do you start? What is proper to say and not say? This feels crazy but here goes….
Chris was my best friend over nearly all that time- from when we first met in Burlington, Vermont around 1979 ….and right through the 80s-early 90s when we both lived in Boston reunited by some strange twist of fate….and then all through the mid 90s ‘til now when we both called NYC home. We were kindred spirits, not exactly “rebels” within our own families but restless free-spirits linked by our attraction to the frenetic energy of punk and rock ‘n’ roll music and a simultaneous rejection of suburbia and a settling into a kids & mortgage parametered lifestyle. Neither Chris nor I ever felt contempt for our own brothers who were raising families or had “careers” or conventional commitments; instead, we both chose to chase the night and somehow understand everyone who somehow saw things differently be it by their own choice or by the cards they were dealt. What a long strange and fantastic trip it’s been!
Over all those years, Chris always spoke very lovingly of his family even if he was quite adept at compartmentalizing his closest friends far away from his blood relatives. He did introduce me to Peter, and Tony Roy in his art lair across from the Coven Café in Nyack, NY, and later around 2003 or ’04 Serge, Michel, his beloved mom Jacqui, Lindsey, and others who were so delightful in Truro. (I also met, I think, Monique and Paul around their marriage date at a July 4th barbecue under the Williamsburg Bridge.) It’s doubtful that he ever mentioned, when visiting family, characters like Emil the Egyptian or Al Grew or Habib the falafel guy or Robin the German or Haydn or Roberta Nelson or GG Allin or The Wards or Daniel Galvez or Cyril or Felix or Jay at the Marz Bar or Jay at the Rathskellar. These were all important people to Chris for a long time because he loved their spirit and they loved his. Different faces in different cities and places who all loved the essence of Chris- all that positive energy and full presence and interest in what you had to say. Chris would lean toward you to focus on you and your words.
Chris loved, in no particular order: stylish leather boots, scarves, hip sweaters and hats, writing on his dashboard with chalk re: his next appointment, Japanese dating services, bodega “loosies” and fragrant cigarettes, O’Douls or cranberry juice in social settings, rambunctiously tossing non-harmful objects in uncontainable appreciation at his favorite musicians, avoiding airplane travel, good conversation with strangers, The Sex Pistols, edging up ahead of other cars at red lights, revving his engine loudly when he started the car, Bob Dylan, The New York Dolls, my wife Tanya’s Sunday dinners, driving on bald mini-tires for hundreds of miles,
2 AM phone calls with his latest guitar chord, beeping his horn to come out and play in whatever city we both lived in at the time.
Chris definitely did not like: getting stopped by police, mean people, total art ignorance, Rudy Giuliani, when friends got married and couldn’t come out at odd hours when Chris beeped his horn, New England blue laws, snowy weather that thwarted his nightly car crawl, rude and close-minded people, karaoke hosts who got upset when Chris toppled the sound equipment in a spirited tug of the microphone when singing “Wild Horses” in a Queens, NY dive.
I counseled him through: car accident frustrations, apartment relocations, errant police raids at his (the wrong) apartment in Chelsea, MA, business dealings with unscrupulous business associates, crazy roommates, slow times for his “Window Design” company, unrequited love interests he’d pursue…..
And Chris, in return, offered me hope through: divorce, unsure geographical relocations, career shift decisions, a horrific car accident and other numerous stresses that are part of life in NYC. In many ways, Chris was the brother I could always rely on even as a first option before checking in with my own three brothers.
Above our brotherly bond, we sure had a lot of laughs and plenty to celebrate! Chris did some incredible mural work in lesser-known places like Parrots (a Caribbean restaurant in NYC) where he drew incredible tropical scenery, the lowly White Castle fast-food restaurant window in Downtown Brooklyn (that STILL has his incredibly alive birds and tulips brightening a forgotten part of NYC) or even Sid’s Hardware (also in Brooklyn that has Chris’ signature Spring colors illuminating the dreary streets to this day). Not many people know that Chris was a significant contributor to a famous mural in Cambridge’s (MA) Central Square orchestrated by famed muralist Daniel Galvez- known for painting a renowned mural of Malcolm X in the very Harlem Audubon Ballroom that Malcolm was slain in, all commissioned by the civil rights leader’s widow. Then there’s Habib’s Falafel Stand in the Lower East Side where Chris was the artist of choice….that helped him long forget his lone concession to “selling out” to a 9-5 job at Boston’s Seaboard Company (one of the few times Chris actually was part of a sign-painters union). He did briefly belong to a similar outfit when he first came to NYC and was most proud of being part of a 20-story high painted ad for the Bowery Savings Bank (Chris helped draw the stacks of bills in a bank safe). We drove around many times looking at that ad down by Canal Street!
Chris provided the illustrations for a 1987 poetry publication (Rent Free) I put out with poet Raffy Woolf. I still have some of the book’s original pen-and-ink drawings Chris did at the Pine Street Inn where I worked at the time. He spent many hours connecting to the clients there …..and continued this wherever I ended up working even in NY. At one event in 2005 in Brooklyn, Chris came to a Client Recognition event of my employer (Women’s Prison Association) and drew countless portraits for kids whose moms had recently been released from prison. Of course, all the children loved Chris.
Of course, Chris and I ventured to an empty Lower East Side pub late in the late 1990s on a Sunday night where I met my wife Tanya! Within weeks, Chris forged an immediate bond with his other family- my wife Tanya’s family and extended network of friends. Chris was loved beyond words because he never put on airs and was always a gentleman kind and honest beyond anyone’s comprehension. Chris was, for over 12 years!!, there at countless house-parties, barbecues, beach sojourns, dinner parties….and many more evenings at our home having dinner, watching movies, etc. More than one time, Chris would outlast either Tanya or me in spirited discussions of politics, entertainment news, etc. ….all the while nonchalantly pulling out his sketchpad mid-conversation to document the event. Not least significantly and on my wedding’s eve, Chris helped me hang yards and yards of fabric in our wedding’s loft location. He even put on a suit for the occasion the next day and looked quite dashing.
In the end, Chris will outlast us all. The memories, the literally thousands of days we shared as friends, will certainly last whatever days I have left around this Earth. Chris closed his sphere of activity significantly in the last 1-2 years….with his neighbor and buddy George (who I never met) reaping the benefit of his camaraderie….but Chris is alive with Tanya and I in so many ways. What a beautiful person we were privileged to spend so much time with!!!!
RIP Chris!!! And, as you would say upon hanging up the phone….
“Hey!!!!!!!!!!!....”
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Thoughts from Paul's parents
These thoughts about Chris come from Paul S. and Lu Yeaton:
We are the mother and father- in- law of Monique, and on January 15, 2000, Paul M. and Monique became man and wife in a little church in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. Many friends and relatives attended. After the service, everyone came to our house for the reception in Belgrade including Ann and Tony. And including Chris. We all had a great time. What a nice man Chris was. When in conversation with him, I just knew that he was giving me his total attention. Talking with him was easy and fun. And when one views his artistic product, there's no doubt that here is a man with immense talent and capabilities. And his characters were so happy and that were just enjoying the simple pleasures of life--lots of joie de vivre. It just warmed the heart to view them. While his friends and family had several years with Chris, it should have been many more. I'm sure everyone misses him dearly. I know we are sad.
Paul S. and Lu Yeaton
We are the mother and father- in- law of Monique, and on January 15, 2000, Paul M. and Monique became man and wife in a little church in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. Many friends and relatives attended. After the service, everyone came to our house for the reception in Belgrade including Ann and Tony. And including Chris. We all had a great time. What a nice man Chris was. When in conversation with him, I just knew that he was giving me his total attention. Talking with him was easy and fun. And when one views his artistic product, there's no doubt that here is a man with immense talent and capabilities. And his characters were so happy and that were just enjoying the simple pleasures of life--lots of joie de vivre. It just warmed the heart to view them. While his friends and family had several years with Chris, it should have been many more. I'm sure everyone misses him dearly. I know we are sad.
Paul S. and Lu Yeaton
Saturday, February 16, 2008
He was a friend of mine
Here are the lyrics to the song "He Was a Friend of Mine." This is the song that Serge referred to in his eulogy of Chris during last weekend's memorial. He mentioned that when Chris played it during the week he was at his mom's home over Christmas, his singing of it was so moving that his mother asked him to please stop.
One wonders what ties Chris had with the song. Now it's almost ironic that he's the friend we will all think of when hearing it. It is a traditional folk song, originally probably recorded by Bob Dylan, but also sung by The Byrds, Bobby Bare, the Grateful Dead, and Willie Nelson among others. It was also on the soundtrack for the movie "Brokeback Mountain." If you want to hear a beautiful version of it, Bob Dylan has one on his Bootleg Series, vol. 1-3.
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I think about him now
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine
He died on the road
He died on the road
He never had enough money
To pay his room or board
And he was a friend of mine
I stole away and cried
I stole away and cried
'Cause I never had too much money
And I never been quite satisfied
And he was a friend of mine
He never done no wrong
He never done no wrong
A thousand miles from home
And he never harmed no one
And he was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I hear his name
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine.
One wonders what ties Chris had with the song. Now it's almost ironic that he's the friend we will all think of when hearing it. It is a traditional folk song, originally probably recorded by Bob Dylan, but also sung by The Byrds, Bobby Bare, the Grateful Dead, and Willie Nelson among others. It was also on the soundtrack for the movie "Brokeback Mountain." If you want to hear a beautiful version of it, Bob Dylan has one on his Bootleg Series, vol. 1-3.
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I think about him now
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine
He died on the road
He died on the road
He never had enough money
To pay his room or board
And he was a friend of mine
I stole away and cried
I stole away and cried
'Cause I never had too much money
And I never been quite satisfied
And he was a friend of mine
He never done no wrong
He never done no wrong
A thousand miles from home
And he never harmed no one
And he was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I hear his name
Lord I just can't keep from cryin'
'Cause he was a friend of mine.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Caroline's thoughts on Chris
I received this email from Caroline Roy shortly after we learned about Chris:
This is a sad time for us. We all loved Chris and his gentle soul. He touched us all. Lindsay and Renee were able to spend time with him over the holidays and for that I am very happy as they are. I had not seen Chris in some time, but one of his drawings hangs in my living room so in a sense he is always present. It is a drawing he did when he was living with us in Brighton when we were first married. He would go to the Boston ballet practices and sketch the dancers as they went through their routines. I love this drawing. It is hard to know why these things happen when so unexpected. As you both say, it makes us step back and realize the importance of being grateful for having those we love in our lives, as well as letting them know that every day. We do tend to forget and take for granted.
This is a sad time for us. We all loved Chris and his gentle soul. He touched us all. Lindsay and Renee were able to spend time with him over the holidays and for that I am very happy as they are. I had not seen Chris in some time, but one of his drawings hangs in my living room so in a sense he is always present. It is a drawing he did when he was living with us in Brighton when we were first married. He would go to the Boston ballet practices and sketch the dancers as they went through their routines. I love this drawing. It is hard to know why these things happen when so unexpected. As you both say, it makes us step back and realize the importance of being grateful for having those we love in our lives, as well as letting them know that every day. We do tend to forget and take for granted.
Jocelyn's thoughts on Chris
I hope Jocelyn won't mind that I copied her words to put here:
Loneliness is a thing, I guess what we have all had sometimes, and I can remember that there were moments when I would complain about being lonely. I live in Europe, and I do sometimes feel very far away from you all (even though it has been my wish to live here, and there is no doubt that I want to live here) I remember telling Chris about my loneliness, and he told me, look Jocelyn, you really are blessed with a beautiful family, you have kids, a partner, and you have everything going for you. Don't complain, live!! Of course I knew that what he was saying was true. I am blessed. If there ever was a person who could say truthfully that he or she was lonely it would have been Chris. It must have been so for him sometimes, I guess. But, what I loved about him is that even though he didn't have the family or love that he longed for, he had the ability to make things happen for himself so that his life was good, and he could feel happy about his life. He didn't complain, he looked for the things that made him happy. Life is too precious. I am grateful to Chris for showing me that.
Well, here is his letter in which he tells about himself. love, Jocelyn
[Chris' email to Jocelyn]
Thijman plays a cello WOW!!!
When U come to U.S. (and I'm just assuming you'll bring the children $$$ an issue) if Thijman brings his instrument we can sing a couple of songs together, as I've much improved my electric guitar playing over these 8 or 9 years practicing one. I find singing and playing (even just to yourself- well I'm sure other tenants in my apartment lean an ear to their window to listen sometimes, and have had a comment or two from them on occasion) is so much fun and fulfilling therapy (almost) it can just about cure any down or feelings you are having (loneliness too, which everyone experiences I believe in life and I'm almost an authority on the subject) - so you pick a couple of songs mentioning those things and it's almost like exorcism when you sing them ( into a microphone, of course for better affect- I have one always set up in my living room) Oh yeah, my art functions that way too, but it seems now I'm almost split in half with art and music, whereas before it was all artwork.
Your daughter sounds delightful also and wish with all my heart her well being throughout her whole glorious life in this topsy turvy world we live in. creative And clever- those are nice traits, for sure.
My artwork or work on windows (sometimes painting flowers or birds and such on pet stores or salons, really a wide range of store types) is going so well really and gaining popularity all the time. I talk to people all the time who are curious ,on the streets, when I'm drawing and painting and I'm just gushing as you can imagine when they exclaim "You're so talented- we love them".
It gives them a break from hectic city life and the dirt and grime and allows them to enjoy a little beauty and charm , even if only for a short moment or two. That's how I look at my purpose in life. And since I have a ball doing it- I don't even think of it as job- and so will continue to till I guess I can't. I could do more concerning my own "personal " artwork at home- and should throw out my TV and kick myself in the ass and DO IT!!!!
Let me stop here- send me your PH. NO. and from there things can happen. O.K.?
Love you and your family jewels you have there with you-
Chaio CHRISTIAN
Loneliness is a thing, I guess what we have all had sometimes, and I can remember that there were moments when I would complain about being lonely. I live in Europe, and I do sometimes feel very far away from you all (even though it has been my wish to live here, and there is no doubt that I want to live here) I remember telling Chris about my loneliness, and he told me, look Jocelyn, you really are blessed with a beautiful family, you have kids, a partner, and you have everything going for you. Don't complain, live!! Of course I knew that what he was saying was true. I am blessed. If there ever was a person who could say truthfully that he or she was lonely it would have been Chris. It must have been so for him sometimes, I guess. But, what I loved about him is that even though he didn't have the family or love that he longed for, he had the ability to make things happen for himself so that his life was good, and he could feel happy about his life. He didn't complain, he looked for the things that made him happy. Life is too precious. I am grateful to Chris for showing me that.
Well, here is his letter in which he tells about himself. love, Jocelyn
[Chris' email to Jocelyn]
Thijman plays a cello WOW!!!
When U come to U.S. (and I'm just assuming you'll bring the children $$$ an issue) if Thijman brings his instrument we can sing a couple of songs together, as I've much improved my electric guitar playing over these 8 or 9 years practicing one. I find singing and playing (even just to yourself- well I'm sure other tenants in my apartment lean an ear to their window to listen sometimes, and have had a comment or two from them on occasion) is so much fun and fulfilling therapy (almost) it can just about cure any down or feelings you are having (loneliness too, which everyone experiences I believe in life and I'm almost an authority on the subject) - so you pick a couple of songs mentioning those things and it's almost like exorcism when you sing them ( into a microphone, of course for better affect- I have one always set up in my living room) Oh yeah, my art functions that way too, but it seems now I'm almost split in half with art and music, whereas before it was all artwork.
Your daughter sounds delightful also and wish with all my heart her well being throughout her whole glorious life in this topsy turvy world we live in. creative And clever- those are nice traits, for sure.
My artwork or work on windows (sometimes painting flowers or birds and such on pet stores or salons, really a wide range of store types) is going so well really and gaining popularity all the time. I talk to people all the time who are curious ,on the streets, when I'm drawing and painting and I'm just gushing as you can imagine when they exclaim "You're so talented- we love them".
It gives them a break from hectic city life and the dirt and grime and allows them to enjoy a little beauty and charm , even if only for a short moment or two. That's how I look at my purpose in life. And since I have a ball doing it- I don't even think of it as job- and so will continue to till I guess I can't. I could do more concerning my own "personal " artwork at home- and should throw out my TV and kick myself in the ass and DO IT!!!!
Let me stop here- send me your PH. NO. and from there things can happen. O.K.?
Love you and your family jewels you have there with you-
Chaio CHRISTIAN
Monique's eulogy
I wrote this to read at the memorial but was too moved to get up and speak:
As many of you already know and what you will also notice in the slide show that I put together: Chris was not just a gifted artist and lover of music, but he was also a brother, a son, and a friend. Although he had created no family of his own, he was very much a family man. You could tell he liked being with his family and didn't make any distinction between close or distant relatives.
I was mulling over the word "brother" the other day, when thinking about Chris. Yes, he was my brother. But he wasn't just a brother through blood, but he was also a brother in the way some people use it to mean "very good friend." He was the type of man about whom you could say: "Chris is like a brother to me," because he would be there for you, he'd listen, he was someone whose opinion you valued, who impacted and influenced you for the better, and who wanted the best for you.
What I loved so much about Chris was that he would show such an interest in you and for that brief moment of togetherness be WITH you, 100%. He would devote all of his attention to you during that short span of time. Young at heart, often cheerful, always friendly, he really was the nicest man I've ever known. Even so, I think he was picky about who he became close friends with, so you could consider yourself lucky if you were chosen. But with almost everyone he was both compassionate and sympathetic.
If my mother were still here, she'd tell you her feelings for Chris, which ran deep. Although all three of her step sons were dear to her, I know that she held a special place in her heart for Chris. Chris was always invited to any get-togethers we had. Perhaps it was because he was single and could get away more easily, but I also think he liked being there and we liked having him.
When I first moved back to the States almost 20 years ago, Chris took me under his wing. He would come up to see me, driving about 75 miles up to Rifton, NY where I lived at the time. He started to sketch a portrait of me that he never finished but he came up several weekends in a row to work on it. He would often take me down to the City and we'd go see a band or check out the downtown pubs.
Even later, after I'd gotten settled in my life here, whenever the opportunity arose to either be in New York or to have a family gathering, Chris was a part of those experiences. I wish now that we could've had more of them. It's still hard to imagine we won't have those anymore.
Thanks, Chris, for being my brother. For being you.
~ Monique
As many of you already know and what you will also notice in the slide show that I put together: Chris was not just a gifted artist and lover of music, but he was also a brother, a son, and a friend. Although he had created no family of his own, he was very much a family man. You could tell he liked being with his family and didn't make any distinction between close or distant relatives.
I was mulling over the word "brother" the other day, when thinking about Chris. Yes, he was my brother. But he wasn't just a brother through blood, but he was also a brother in the way some people use it to mean "very good friend." He was the type of man about whom you could say: "Chris is like a brother to me," because he would be there for you, he'd listen, he was someone whose opinion you valued, who impacted and influenced you for the better, and who wanted the best for you.
What I loved so much about Chris was that he would show such an interest in you and for that brief moment of togetherness be WITH you, 100%. He would devote all of his attention to you during that short span of time. Young at heart, often cheerful, always friendly, he really was the nicest man I've ever known. Even so, I think he was picky about who he became close friends with, so you could consider yourself lucky if you were chosen. But with almost everyone he was both compassionate and sympathetic.
If my mother were still here, she'd tell you her feelings for Chris, which ran deep. Although all three of her step sons were dear to her, I know that she held a special place in her heart for Chris. Chris was always invited to any get-togethers we had. Perhaps it was because he was single and could get away more easily, but I also think he liked being there and we liked having him.
When I first moved back to the States almost 20 years ago, Chris took me under his wing. He would come up to see me, driving about 75 miles up to Rifton, NY where I lived at the time. He started to sketch a portrait of me that he never finished but he came up several weekends in a row to work on it. He would often take me down to the City and we'd go see a band or check out the downtown pubs.
Even later, after I'd gotten settled in my life here, whenever the opportunity arose to either be in New York or to have a family gathering, Chris was a part of those experiences. I wish now that we could've had more of them. It's still hard to imagine we won't have those anymore.
Thanks, Chris, for being my brother. For being you.
~ Monique
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The whole of the moon
These lyrics by the Waterboys remind me very much of Chris. I learned recently that the song was a tribute to C.S. Lewis, who incidentally also died rather young:
I pictured a rainbow, You held in your hands
I had flashes, But you saw then plan
I wandered out in the world for years,
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent, You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
You were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
I was grounded, While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths, You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley, You saw Brigadoon
I saw the crescent,
You saw the whole of the moon!
I spoke about wings, You just flew
I wondered, I guessed, and I tried, You just knew
I sighed, But you swooned
I saw the crescent,
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To reach too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
Unicorns and cannonballs,
Palaces and piers,
Trumpets, towers, and tenements,
Wide oceans full of tears,
Flag, rags, ferry boats,
Scimitars and scarves,
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
You climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
I pictured a rainbow, You held in your hands
I had flashes, But you saw then plan
I wandered out in the world for years,
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent, You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
You were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
I was grounded, While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths, You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley, You saw Brigadoon
I saw the crescent,
You saw the whole of the moon!
I spoke about wings, You just flew
I wondered, I guessed, and I tried, You just knew
I sighed, But you swooned
I saw the crescent,
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To reach too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
The whole of the moon!
Unicorns and cannonballs,
Palaces and piers,
Trumpets, towers, and tenements,
Wide oceans full of tears,
Flag, rags, ferry boats,
Scimitars and scarves,
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
You climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high, Too far, Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon!
Share your stories of Christian
I invite anyone who is interested to share a memory, story, anecdote, or whatever you wish of Christian. Use the comments feature below or email me something at myeaton@comcast.net and I'll post it for you.
Memorial in Cambridge
On February 9 we had a memorial party for Chris at his mother's house in Cambridge, MA. Many of his family members were there to view his artwork, listen to the music he played, talk about the things we knew about him, and meet all the folks who loved and admired him.Each of us did our share: brother Serge arranged for the food and shared with us some of Chris' last moments on this Earth; brother Michel read a wonderfully detailed and moving tribute to Chris that he'd written, describing all the ways that walls played a role in his life, from walls for murals to a wall in his apartment for keeping the names and numbers of his friends and family handy; sister Jocelyn flew 3,000 miles from Holland just to be here; brother Peter had played a large role in being in touch with the authorities after Chris died and helping square away the apartment; I as a sister wanted to showcase Chris' art as well as photos of him with his art and family and put together a slide show that could be viewed during this event. The images in the slide show are accessible from this site.
Especially wonderful was that Chris' best friend George came up from Brooklyn to attend and share with us some of the things he'd learned about this complex and interesting person who many of us didn't know completely.
Thanks to all who attended and also most of all to Jacqui who hosted the event at her beautiful home during this difficult time.
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