No sooner than after Monday’s editorial on manatees, we have unfortunately found ourselves once again writing on a subject featured in last week’s “Darts & Laurels.” Monday, the world at large mourned the loss of musician David Bowie, who passed away Sunday after succumbing to an 18-month-long battle with cancer.
We believe Hilton Als of The New Yorker said it best: “This was not supposed to happen. Ever.” No, it most certainly was not. Six decades into his career, Bowie had taken on a quality of seeming immortality in a manner the world will never see again. Although there are rock stars of Bowie’s era and ilk still with us, few of them proved to be as forward-thinking or innovative as he was, nor did they possess the capacity for re-invention he demonstrated time and again, earning him the reputation of a “musical chameleon.” Bowie, both in his body of work and in his nonmusical endeavors, was a man constantly looking toward the future; there is a pained, twisted irony in seeing him go at the comparatively young age of 69.
For those who grew up with and adored Bowie’s work, Monday was a god-awfully small affair. Tributes poured in from all walks of life, with artists, the media and fans sharing in the collective grief over the loss of a beloved life that had been well-lived. Despite, or perhaps because of, Bowie’s music’s concern with the plights of vagabonds, ne’er-do-wells and other outsiders, his work was of an intensely personal nature to many. Speaking from our own experience, many tears were shed Monday. Bowie’s friend and longtime producer Tony Visconti himself said that despite knowing the end was near, he wasn’t ready: “He was an extraordinary man, full of love and life. He will always be with us. For now, it is appropriate to cry.”
Grieving, even for artists whom we may have never known personally, is a healthy and necessary ritual surrounding death. However, it is now the next day, and for those still (rightfully) grieving, it’s time to celebrate his work and all it gave us, rather than grieve his passing. We are lucky to live in a city bursting with artistic and creative people, to say nothing of our rich musical history. Several events taking place this week have already been announced, such as a double screening of Bowie’s most famous films, “Labyrinth” and “The Man Who Fell to Earth,” at Curia On The Drag on Wednesday night. For those more inclined to move than sit around and watch, there will also be a costume party at the Arcade Bar on Thursday night.
If there was a single unifying principle to Bowie’s life and work, it was change. Change can come at any moment and happens whether we like it or not. Although we would have it otherwise, death is one of the most fundamental aspects of change. It’s OK to cry when those we care about or those who profoundly moved us go away; what isn’t OK is to fixate on their death, rather than their life. Cue up the records, put on your makeup and celebrate Bowie’s life as he would have: with style.
