Stephen Irwin
altered vintage magazine pages
27.9 cm x 21.6 cm
Skin Exhibition
15 Jan- 5 March 2011
Galerie Stefan Röpke
Cologne, Germany
I went to Cologne this weekend. I had no idea it was Carnival. I went to see the exhibition of my dear friend, Steve, who had recently died. I was unable to go to the States for the memorial and thought I could gain some closure by being in the presence of his work. I was torn when I left the gallery. I didn't expect this experience. I could tell Steve wasn't there. He was outside where the life was. I remember him telling me once that he didn't feel that connected to his work once it had been sold. He let it go...free to live its new life and make its own experiences in its new home. I knew he would want me to make some experiences of my own, so I thought I should make the most of the Carnival festivities.
As I hurried to catch a train so I could drop off my valuables, a freak accident occurred. A guy dressed as Superman was joviously pushed by one of his mates. This knocked him into me. The force with which I was moving forward was quickly changed to a sidewards motion causing ME to fly through the air rather than the man of the steel. Somehow being aware of the danger, my reflexes kicked in and my body automatically became a shell folding around the camera and the images; both of which I knew were irreplaceable. I heard a horrible sound. It sounded like a camera hitting the ground and shattering. Somehow it miraculously emerged unscathed, but I hadn't. Everyone was asking me if I was ok. I was more worried about the camera than myself. I was puzzled by the concern on their faces. They could see the black eye I am now sporting coming on.
The experience reminded me of the time I had been at Steve's house. We were making dinner and I decided to run home quickly and get a spatula. Energetically I bounded down the very long staircase...or at least the first two steps. I missed the rest and landed in a heap on the floor at the bottom. Steve came running down to see how I was. Unable to move anything except for my mouth, I said, "I'm ok." He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and my reaction. It was obvious to him that I wasn't "ok." Funny how the body protects us when we need it. Wonderful how our friends can see the truth even when we can't.
Somehow I came back from Cologne with some closure...it just wasn't where I thought I'd find it. I was happy to find out that all the work that had been for sale was sold. It would now go on to have its new experiences like Steve would have wanted. The camera is ok. I'll be ok. The marks on my face will heal. My heart will be scarred, but will mend eventually. And, most importantly, the images and memories are safe in the hearts of all those who, like me, loved him so.
