Dedication

It's been a crazy couple of weeks here since Dennis Hopper passed on May 29th. As a family member of my oldest, closest friends here in Taos, Dennis was someone my children and I saw on Christmas Eve in a very un-Hollywood context, on and off for many years. Last year, as I watered the garden outside Human Line Studio on Bent Street, where I worked at the time, Dennis was attending the Summer Of Love opening at the Parks Gallery next door. When he saw me, he came over and asked if he could hang out for a bit and smoke his cigar, away from the fray. He left for a minute, to find his son, Henry and the three of us spent about fifteen minutes chatting about nothing much until we were joined by his brother David, his late wife, Mary and the photographer, Lisa Law. The subject turned to the old Mabel Dodge House days and his predilection for guns. "A myth!There were no guns!" Deadpanned Dennis."Not what I've heard!" I retorted.His bright blue eyes twinkled, "I've got a gun story!" He chuckled.He became quite animated as he described the night he'd come down into the Plaza after a long poker game which involved a lot of alcohol and a few tabs of LSD. The old tree in the middle of the Plaza, at the time, had appeared monstrous under the combined influence of drugs and booze, and Dennis' response had been to simply shoot it. Shots fired, he returned his gun to his pocket to find himself handcuffed and marched off to jail. The ending to his story does not jive with that of the family member who bailed him out, but rather involved the wife of a famous country singer who drove him to Las Vegas. Perhaps that did in fact happen later, but the true facts are far less romantic and far more disturbing. The Taos cops beat the living crap outa him. As he was telling his tale, others began to make their way over to the wall where we sat, and I watched Dennis shut down. Looking at his watch he realised he was late for his second Hopper At The Harwood appearance and said goodbye. As he was leaving, I told him a mutual friend was playing in Albuquerque the next week. He brightened as he asked the date. That was the last time I saw Dennis. I hear he did go to see the gig in Albuquerque the following weekend and that he had a little time with our friend. I've spent these past two weeks with members of his family and close friends. He has been very much around. In the aftermath of his moving and very private funeral, a few of us have gathered here and there sharing memories, tears and lots of laughs, as we celebrate this extraordinary man, who touched the lives of so many. As I rehearse The Land in the evenings, I'm calling on his generous spirit to guide and inspire me - this upcoming performance is dedicated to his memory. A brave and brilliant artist, Dennis knew that in order to make great art, one cannot be afraid to step over the edge; He continually and courageously revisited places he had already healed, in order to make authentic, powerful work. As a family member and a friend, he was kind, generous and loyal. He made amends to those he had hurt and was a wonderful, loving father to his children. He is missed but his bright light shines on.