Last Breath

February 22, 2008 by

I found this today as I was going through old Shifter issues.  Crispin used to be a frequent contributor.  I miss him!-RitLast Breath 



December 18, 2006 by

Here is a picture of Crispin’s work that Meg and I put up at Flux Factory for the month in a tribute to this wonderful person. They are from a show we did here in 2004 called REFUSE. I am including the link to our website so that you can see better photos of the works along with descriptions that are in Crispin’s own words–generous words that were typical Crispin (see especially Coke Bottle Player). The works were lovingly installed by Meg Duguid.

Happy Birthday

December 13, 2006 by

to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Crispin. Happy birthday to you.


My crispin video

December 9, 2006 by

I went to school with Crispin here in Ohio and lived with him for two years after that. I made this video for the service at Mount Vernon.

Crispin Video

ars longa, vita brevis

December 4, 2006 by


December 3, 2006 by


Ode to Crispin

December 3, 2006 by

jolly soul to find
in those summers-on-hudson
in a brick building behind
we played like children in the night
each of us in our rooms
pounding metal, painting, making things from
we dug deep in dumpsters
with treasures we would find
hopes for transformation
with kinship guiding walking blind
Knew you’d be there in the late
napped and full of caffeinate
to meet you on the pavement or in the open door
telling tales
being who you were
what comfort you have given
and it was counted upon
a survivor seeking
you inspired
may your loving soul live on.

Elisa Lendvay


December 2, 2006 by

Hey man. Everyone really misses you. The Bard crew have been getting together a lot lately, talking about how sweet it was to know the big guy. You’ve really made us think hard about what a family we truly are. Sure, we may be a comically, intensely fucked up and emotionally WACKY family, but we’re tight in a crisis. Looking at everyone during the memorial, I couldn’t help being struck by the talent and sincerity that was represented there. I think you’ve made us all better artists, better people, better friends. You’d probably laugh at how all of us seem to need to own a part of you, to the point that if you added up each of the memories we all have of you there would probably be like a dozen Crispins. A sort of “loaves and fishes” thing, I think. Of course, there was a fair bit of the weepy stuff. Mea culpa on my part. You know I’ve never really been very good at managing loss, and I guess when the sadness hits the rage is never far behind. Please forgive my anger, I was just mad at myself for not spending more time with you.

Do you remember our secret goodbuddy handshake? Palm over fist and then fist over palm? As you put it that day, that was “random cool”. We were always just two midwestern boys who didn’t want to leave our backyard rocketship projects, even when our mom’s were calling us to dinner. We once joked that you would always be The Skipper to my Gilligan, and then you saved my bike from the Bard Security Graveyard. Y’all is my hero.

I can’t really buy that you’re very far away, because you left so many great toys to play with. I still crack up when I think of the day you showed me the hard-drive-in-motor-oil sound piece. I said; “Yeah man, but WHY?”, and you sort of grinned and told me that you just had to see if it worked, and that it was working “just fine’ (and just for the record, I personally think the Amacher Cigarette Butt In A Jar sculpture was the best thing ever seen at Bard, but that’s just me). I guess the others will think I’m losing it (well, more than usual), but I actually still expect to hear from you. I listen to the spaces between sounds when I’m working, and put my ear up to bottles and other mad things like that. You see I know in my heart if anyone could ever figure out a way to get a message through from the other side it would be the guy who could hear what sound was coming from from a broken cell phone, the guy who could make old machines talk in coded lingo, the guy who could offer up a thirty gallon big yellow baptismal bucket, designed perhaps to renew weary old cowards like me. Please get back to us as soon as you can. I’ll be right where you left me.

November 30, 2006 by

here are some images of crispin at ubs this past summer (06). he sat around with me and talked me through some foulish moods, calmly scanning image after image and printing out his thesis statement for his board. it took him much longer than he had planned on, but he seemed pretty ok to settle in and wait for the printer.


messing up

November 30, 2006 by

it’s only a couple minutes before we leave to go to your memorial.  i’m sitting in the basement at my place because it’s the only place to be alone, and because this is where you used to help me see new perspectives about my art and my methods.  i miss you, and I’ve been grouchy all day and especially to sherry and james, more so as i try to write this.  i know you’d make a weird face and ask my why i’m doing that – it’s not their fault you died.  and you’d be right.

i guess, i just want to thank you again – for all the insight and comfortable conversation, for the easy friendship you offered, and for the way you taught me through your actions about being available to people, being always curious and interested, and somehow being honest and opinionated without being offensive.

you said in one of your e-mails (the one posted about your thoughts on death) that eternal life make more sense when it is viewed as eternal growth, that life isn’t a state of being – so much as a state of motion/exploration/growing.  as with all of your opinions (at least all those I was privy to), you had this amazing way of simply stating something you were living.  thanks for that – because it is so easy now to picture you doing the same thing for eternity – being so amazed by the new things you are discovering.  i even get this image of god laughing as you get all excited by the new discoveries.  as if He is enjoying you being you – and i am happy for you.  and sad for all of us – who miss you deeply.

it’s true, what the bible says – that we do not mourn like those that have no hope – that intermingled in our sorrow is the undercurrent of the certainty that you are ok, and better than ever.  but we all still mourn your absence.

i’m happy for you, and smile through quite a few spontaneous tears.   see you soon.


Oh yeah – i called this entry “messing up” because you had talked to me a bit about how you were (for some reason unknown to yourself) always trying to mess things up.  but to your astonishment, they always seemed to work out even better, no matter how hard you tried.  you said you thought god did that to remind you that it is his doing that made you successful as an artist and as a person.  though it’s obvious you didn’t choose to die – i definately think most of us would say that it messed things up a bit.  but now so many people are “doing something” spontaneously, moved by your life and example, moved by the sadness and the shock, and moved by our need to act on these emotions and not just sit passively in sadness.  you (or you would credit god) has yet again used this “messing up” to accomplish the very thing you worked for in life – to get people to do something – to not worry if it is ok or right or correct, but simply to act out of the heart and personality.  and you always connected so many people – and even now (especially today) so many people are being brought together by you.  so things may not be as “messed up” as they seem.  and maybe god is still at work in that crazy way he works – where he doesn’t so much control as he makes good come from the very things that cause us to lose hope.