About

In 1992 I lost a close friend to AIDS, which had become the number one cause of death for US men ages 25 to 44. I would add my friend David to a growing list of deceased that I knew and worked with as a young photographer working at the intersection of fashion and entertainment in Los Angeles. Death was all around me then.

In the months leading up to David’s passing I made frequent visits to the apartment that he shared with his partner. In those moments we practiced “being present” and “listening actively” as well as assisting David with his planning needs — all things that many of us in our 20’s had learned, out of necessity, to be capable of.

During this time, I would bring over CDs of the Tallis Scholars, an early music vocal ensemble that specialize in performing a cappella sacred vocal music, which all three of us loved to listen to. Among our favorites were The Tallis Scholars recording of Allegri’s heavenly “Miserere” (one of the greatest choral works to have emerged from the Sistine Chapel), Thomas Tallis’ 40-part motet “Spem in Alium,” (Latin for "Hope in any other") composed in c. 1570 for eight choirs of five voices each (and considered by some critics to be the greatest piece of English early music, and Victoria’s “Requiem,” which is among the most loved and performed musical works of the Renaissance. At one point, David said aloud with his characteristic dry wit, “..god — imagine living in a time when this kind of music was performed at your funeral. It might make dying a thing to look forward to.” Listening to that music was good for us then. So too was aromatherapy and conversation in bringing about the common narrative themes that we were focused on then: making choices, the transformation of fear, and the attempt to find meaning in death.

1992 was also the year that non-profits and charities had started playing a crucial role in addressing the epidemic. One of them was Project Angel Food which provided free meals for people too sick to shop and cook for themselves. I had witnessed the service they provided and the difference they made in people’s lives was profound.

Eventually David died. And though I participated in a perfectly lovely funeral which he would have loved and approved of, I wanted to do something else for him — something that I knew would wow his wild imagination as well as touch the larger community. I began to imagine a Requiem. Not in the sense of a Catholic Mass, but rather a secular concert with music that was simply performed in honor of the dead. And why not the Tallis Scholars performing the “Spem In Alium” which we loved so much? And why not do it as a fundraiser for Project AngelFood which improved the quality of David’s life so dramatically?

I mentioned the idea to a friend in the early music department at USC (a fellow Tallis Scholars fanatic) and she didn’t think I was nuts. Quite the opposite — she offered to help me produce it and even suggested that I have a look at St. Basil’s Catholic Church, which she described as having “wild and live acoustics,” as a potential space. So I went to have a look. And a listen.

As your drive down Wilshire Boulevard toward St. Basil’s, it arises in the distance like an ancient fortress, girded with towers and bristling with jagged, three-dimensional windows of stained glass and iron. Considered by many to be a Brutalist masterpiece, the building (designed by A. C. Martin and Associates) evokes the feel of a very early Christian church or a monastery, with unadorned exterior surfaces and an interior that feels like a place of refuge. It does this in a confident Brutalist style that incorporates twelve angular, irregular concrete towers with a rough finish that exposes the aggregate.

The building’s interior was shocking to me — a colossal concrete structure with soaring concrete walls that were lit in many soft colors by sunlight streaming through the windows and skylights above. And never had I been in a space so strangely — live.

Immediately I began to imagine how the space ought to be lit during David’s evening Requiems — with a pale blue light pouring in from the outside as from some kind of powerful artificial light source (like a hovering alien spacecraft).

Over the next several months I produced the event (with assistance from my friend at USC School of Music, Agnieszka Lejman); contacted Aaron Concert Management in Boston to inquire about booking the Tallis Scholars for a live concert; raised the money to present the Tallis Scholars along with 30 additional singers; found a gaffer to help me execute my lighting design ideas; looked for creative ways to market the event — especially to audiences that wouldn’t be dead ringers to attend a concert of Renaissance sacred polyphony (as a side-bar note —we got a LOT of fashion and entertainment bigwigs to come to the show thanks to people like my friend and mentor Herb Ritts telling everyone he knew about it. Herb brought an entourage of super models with him on opening night (we had secured two long pews in the church for them); finally, I picked up a very proper Peter Phillips (founder of the Tallis Scholars) at the LA airport in my 1972 White Ford Mustang with Cherry Red interior. He got in the car and I could see he was a little uneasy and not entirely sure of what he had gotten himself into. I don’t blame him. But then it worked out.

We sold out both shows. Fully recouped our expenses. And generated a $20k gift for Project AngelFood. It was an evening that I think would have made my friend David proud.