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David Gulassa: Passionate Fabricator Hearing of the tragic drowning of David Gulassa only weeks after we celebrated his works in the details of the Bellevue Art Museum, I sat speechless and thought of his uniqueness as an artist. David was a sculptor who worked in disguise from the position of a fabricator. He had more imagination and talent than most artists; in his zeal for making and collecting he was swift and shocking in his creativity. I remember the afternoon we spent in his shop working out the pick pocket covers for the chapel of St. Ignatius. I had brought a crude model that looked awkwardly like a potato. David intuitively knew it needed sculptural improvement; he grabbed a wooden fishnet float from his wonderful collection of objects, walked over to a band saw, split it cleanly in half and with his characteristic grin held it up—with a notch for the bolts it would be perfect! He made the bronze castings and intentionally we left the trace of wood grain from the original float. Working with David was a rare joy. He not only knew all sorts of fabricating secrets, he had a skill and sculptor’s sense of plastic shapes that was profound. David’s charisma was visible, heartfelt, with industrious depth. His workspace was, in spirit, a towering space, filled with miniature altars of his inspirations. I was reading the poet Paul Celan’s “Threadsuns” when the telephone rang and a friend told me David was gone . . . I stopped on this sentence which seemed to be his: SILENCE, old hag, ride me through the rapids, Lid’s fires, light up the way. |