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!
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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!!!!!!!!!!!....”
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 hin, 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 did'nt 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.
Thank you, Pierre, for leaving your thoughts of Chris. I will put a copy of your comment into the main section of the blog. I remember similar noises when staying at Chris' apartment. I don't think he would've wanted that apartment any other way than noisy and lively.
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