By Cyrille Gulassa, David's sister

So, my brother died this month. 40 years old. He died kayaking home after a particularly lovely party at his shop under a brilliant midnight sky of stars. I know, as I was there, at the party in Seattle, talking deep, lovely dreams with him and Lukas until he left, a silhouetted figure drifting down the street, kayak in hand. I also know the sky was beautiful.

My brother David was called a genius, brilliant, a Buddha, an extra-ordinary man. After an amazing tribute memorial to him that is regrettably impossible to describe with words, I realized the standing-room-only church of 800 guests were equally as affected by him, enchanted as I, endeared, in awe.

David was inspiring. He was reckless and risky in all the right ways, and with art and aesthetics he absolutely ruled. He was a designer, a fabricator, an engineer, an architect, an artist in the truest sense of the word. And after this outrageously gorgeous tribute to him in Seattle, I realized all the people who were swept asunder by his magnetic charisma were affected by him because David believed in himself, he used himself, his talents, he pushed his every limit. And interestingly, I now understand the beauty of David was simply that he required the very same of others.Respectfully pay a tribute to yourself:

Believe in your talents, your gifts, your voice.
Live as Grand a Life as you can Imagine.
With much Love,

cyrille gulassa
January 2001