Some people in this world lead quiet lives. They grow up quietly, live quietly, and they die quietly. Some people do not.
Brian Gianelli did not lead a quiet life.
I would be lying if I said that I knew him well. I simply knew him by association. He was a good friend of my sister, which meant that I got a few random snapshots into who Brian was.
What those snapshots showed me was a very creative and expressive person. He was an artist, as well as a poet, and a musician. Brian did not live in the world according to others. He was like a whirl-wind blasting through town. People saw him coming, were caught up by his enthusiasm for life, and remembered him for long after as a truly unique persona.
In 2004 Brian and two friends decided to go canoeing down the flood waters of Granite Creek during a winter storm. He hit an eddy, tipping his canoe and submerging him into the cold water. The next day rescue workers found his body.
His death was a great loss to the community, and especially to those who knew him well. My sister no longer had her friend to dance, sing, write, and create with.
So when my mom sent me a Yavapai College memo stating that his art was being shown in the Library Commons through the month of April, we both knew that it would mean a lot to my sister to see it, even though she is living in Wisconsin. Today I went to the college and snapped pictures of all the paintings they had of his.
So Nikki B, these are for you. Unfortunately all the paintings are behind glass (due to risk of damage) so the pictures have the inevitable reflections in them:
Clicking on the images will take you to a page which includes the text that was placed next to each painting.
Some info about the artist:
I still have a CD of Brian's music that finds its way into my speakers on occasion.
"..but it dissipates, disperses, disappears, before it reaches the end. Turn off the moonlight, it's too bright and drains out all the colors ... " - Brian Gianelli