Greg Rennick

Farewell tremendous light. Farewell to an artist, and a  friend. 

 The lights are going out, it seems. All over. This month, so precious, with its leaves, the golden leaves and their smell, and the way they feel underfoot. October, and its precious hours of dwindling light, and the smell of the leaves which is golden.

You held your glass in such a particular way, as if it contained something precious, but it was only what we had given you. You laughed. It was a resplendent laugh, golden and precious. Our ears were filled by it, as if by something precious. Something golden.

In ink black. In lines curved and straight. Praising what others had done:

My heart is pounding

is what you would say. What we believed. Your conviction convinced us. And how could we be anything but hopeful of the pounding. It was your heart, after-all, that mastered lines curved and straight; that made golden the black ink. Unparalleled mastery, but never mind. Crimson petal and white. Falling leaves. You gilded the hours. Now sleep.

["Gregory Joseph Rennick died 16 October 2008 at the age of 43. His work was certainly on par with Canada's premier print-makers; a master of his chosen medium, and an artist of immeasurable talent." -Bruno Tedeschi]