3 Bikini

Musings on Art and Commerce in Brooklyn.

Monday, August 14, 2006


Photo by THS Tom THS on flickr

I had planned on writing a cheery recap of the Dean Street Block association meeting today, however an unlikely turn of events has shifted my concern from 10 year projects to the present. A co-worker who is somewhat poorly pieced together, or rather comes apart easily (a sign of a highly creative and thus neurotic soul) experienced the tragic loss of his son.

While Louis and I have very little direct contact, we shared an office wall for several years and I was privy to everything from intimate family conversations to battles over the failed realization of a director's vision. What makes Louis stand out is his selection of adjectives and employment of hyperbole while on the speakerphone. In an office with a view of a park, he chooses the clutter of personal plants and tapestries to the treetops.

I have passed his son in the hallway when he visits- a handsome, cocksure teenager with rebellious eyes and dark shaggy hair. The kid was feisty, always ending phone calls with a snarky comment for his dad, never letting his old man get the last word. Their battles were playful and witty, rarely meanspirited. I was entertained by them, suppressing giggles and rolling my eyes behind our shared wall. They didn't know I listened, but it made the day go by. I felt like the canned laughter from the audience that bolsters the show.

Thus it came as quite a blow this afternoon to learn that Louis' son was found face down in a pool. I can see it in my head, but have a hard time reconciling the angsty voice on the speakerphone with the image of a lifeless body in a suburban pool. All of the feist escaped into the water and a great kid silenced forever. It is indescribable tragedy. I will miss his voice, and can only conceive of a fraction of the loss.


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