Ericc Tascott. A Man of Legendary Heart.

Ericc Tascott...

A man of grand sight

And sweeping scope!...

His visions proceed him...

Watch as his hand cuts

A stunning mountain

With holes cut through it

Like swiss cheese,

And with swift stretch of arm

An entire field of peculiar flora and

Fauna thrive on paint alone...

A prickly petal bursting,

An exotic stamen bubbling and

Infiltrating the desert eye

So sly but faster then a blink stampede

O, yes indeedy!...

This man was my mantra...

Like a sutra thread whistling

Back to the source

He fed my mind and body

And eyes with dots,

Always electrifying

And supplying me with his

Newest psychic infusion...

This man who loved his cat,

And fed all the neighborhood strays...

This man who taught his cat to

Perch upon his back,

And stretch his

Kitty spine by pulling at

His own tail that was held

Securely in Ericc's loving hands...

He held the keys

To the grand alternative

From the hustle and bustle

Dog eat dog...

He wasn't squatting over his visions

Like a rain sapped branch

Promising himself that one day he would

Get off the pot, and take a chance

On that faraway dream,

He was living it 24/7!...

His art vibrant and distinctive as his

Fashion sense...

He often wore his abstract art,

Draping it's aboriginal designs over himself,

But never talked about it unless prompted...

Staring back at you as you'd enter

His museum like abode

With all knowing eyes

That this was the right way,

And he had found it...

His pie in sky all laid out on his walls

For all to see...

It was never just the art though...

The man was a profound listener...

He wanted to know always what was

Going on with me,

Rarely talked about himself except in jest,

Always thought the smallest aspects

Of life were hilarious, and seemed

Fascinated in all the intricacies

Of human nature...

We talked Family Guy...

Celebrity gossip...

Philosophy,

Music and the Grand Rapids

Underground scene all in one

Breath, and I always

Felt welcome and

In the warm embrace of a friend

Who truly cared...

My eye would always wander while

We jawed and guffawed,

Catching a painting or odd detail I'd

Never noticed and he'd tell me

With that clear as bell memory

Where he was and what he had

Been doing on the day he breathed

Each vibrant and breathing work into life...

Music went hand in hand with his art...

He taught me a handful of musical

Experiments that were as unique as

I'd ever heard from the rarest of

Underground musicians,

And always had a tape player hammering

Out a tune

While he splattered his soul

Onto the canvas at a rhythmic, but

Thoughtfully steady pace...

It would take him days upon days

To apply his dot technique

And create this mystifying effect...

Such an enamoring gift...

Reduced to an ash of himself

I visited him with my then pregnant wife

After he had been diagnosed with

Parkinsons...

He had refrained from painting

At this time...

The shaking taking the place

Of the spasmodic creativity that

Once ruled his life...

His eyes now plagued with fear

When once they were brimming beatific

And rich with life's answers...

Generous to a fault he sold me his

Painted jacket that was a life achievement

And transcended any

Clothing art I had ever seen;

He had confided in me once that he had

High hopes that Mick Jagger

From The Rolling Stones would buy it

From him if he could talk to the right people,

And I never doubted that if Mick had seen

It that he would...

This was to be our last meeting with Eric

For the next five years...

He was forced to move with family because

Of his debilitating disease,

And then I was to discover very recently

That he had developed terminal cancer,

And was very close to death

At St. Mary's in the Hospice area,

And choking back the tears

I fled to see him with my wife and child...

My boisterous boy Rémy kicking and screaming

While my loving wife respectively

Tried to calm him outside Ericc's room

As I pushed back the door to reveal

What I assumed

Would be a withered shell of what I once knew...

But no!...

Here he was so beautiful and almost floating

Towards the ceiling...

His chest lifting like he was drifting on a cloud

So proud!...

His face with mouth wide open

Taking in every breath and energy

That he was allowed in his short time...

His eyes closed but not sealed...

His daughter once seated, saw I was in need,

And swiftly rose from bedside

Saying I could have my time...

A sublime gift...

She left and gave us space...

I took out the drum I had brought

That Ericc had gifted along with

My purchase of the jacket...

I remembered him beating it between

Paintings, and it had his love

Radiating from it...

I started thumping away at it as I

Told him about all the good times

Trying never to show pain...

Ericc's edges of his face lifted in a smile

And his hand gripped mine,

As I continued to share our adventures

That meant so very much...

That was all I could ever ask for...

This and I hope he goes very swiftly in the night

Knowing that I am forever grateful

And transformed...

I hope he's as without burden as his

Thin angelic flesh seemed to be...

I'll always thank him, and be in hope

That I can see him in the next life

When it's time to check my bags...

3/13/24

Bunny Villaire