|
After John liebrand died I wrote an obituary for P-Form magazine. I also wrote an account of events that took place. They choose to print the account which is aslo availible here. Below is what I came up with for an obituary.
John Liebrand Performs Nightly
What the hat that John wore seemed to fit me
as well. We were nerds electrick, not acoustic, with things to be shouted
for intention. I look to the work I have known him to have done and I
see the brilliant shine left by artists great and small. The person? I
knew him less than I could have but John had walls in place to keep most
out. What we did share was sometimes caught up in profession
and that of going on stage to find out why we were artists. I see the
piles of constant obsession filling his rooms, the comic books, the records,
the suitcases and bicycles that create to most a huge puzzle that rhymes
without reason. I never got to the reasons either. But the smack against
your head of things told aloud by John Liebrand was a thing to behold.
The test of endurance of an audience to get to the meat of what was presented.
John knew what art was for and he proved it to us.
Edit out the applause please. That part can hurt even in the small hollow reaches. If you ever saw him perform take those feelings with you as you go. He grabbed at something that most never try for. I felt the sting of that reality busted over my head many times or more. The stories that get told of the things he did may well be the history of all all that is needed. Miss the man that did those things for you and me and barely asked for much more in return. To perform is to ask too much of an audience. John's shine was often that he asked the most possible. There was an investment in his work that was accidently wagered by all those that sat before his art. Stare at him, he stared back with what counts, for all it's worth to live.
Early March 1995 and John took his own life. A piece I had seen him go through early on in his art career. Presented for the audience of one, he leaves the earth this way and I miss the man dearly.
Brendan deVallance
|