If not, well... I am truly, truly shocked! And deeply saddened by his loss. I can't write sensitively enough to express my emotions, but at least this I can say - one of the most important reasons why I still return to this forum (albeit after increasingly long delays now that it has gone so cold) is to discover, suddenly like a start, a post from him. Rest in Peace, my friend.

Roy

My parents were also missionaries, as were his, and they were in the same Southern Baptist mission. I lived in Madrid, he in Basque Country or País Vasco. We met on an MK(missionary kid) retreat in Austria. I remember on first glance thinking he was a strange, elfish kind of guy...He was loaded down with a huge backpack that looked bigger than him and an armful of folders and notebooks. Looked like he was going off to a research expedition more than on vacation. I got to sit next to him on the airplane to Austria, and as soon as we began to talk, I began to realize what a truly exceptional person he was. I had always had a deep interest and love for art, and had never met anyone my age(15-16) who had more than a superficial knowledge of it, so to discover that same love in him, much more advanced and developed than my own, left me in awe of him. At that time, I had little or no respect for males of my same age,to me they were all ridiculous cringe-provoking clowns, so he was quite a find for me, in that sense. In that week we were inseperable buddies, our conversations of art and philosophy, religion drew us (at least me) into an introspective world apart from the babbling "MK's going crazy to be with so many american teens at once" baptisty-revival type atmosphere around us. How could I explain it? It was like stumbling onto a patch of a monet painting, after spending ages wandering over an italogothic one or something(not quite the comparison desired, but wanted to get that poetic feeling out in form of artistic metaphor).
After that, we maintained contact via email almost daily for a couple of years and saw each other a couple more times in person, briefly. Unfortunately, later I had to distance myself from him for reasons that best go unsaid.
Now, years later, when I hear the news that he is gone forever, I find it hard to accept. All those clichès about death are really becoming a reality to me. Ex. sometimes I *actually* disbelieve that he is dead. I wish I could have talked to him one last time to tell him how much he meant to me and still does. Why is it that I feel guilty about his death, like maybe I could have done something to change it? Most of all I regret not having known him more, like I said before, when I knew he was out there, I guess I always figured someday I would stumble into his little patch of monet again somehow(stupid).
I guess we are all essentially alone, and real connections with people in life are SO few and far between, and always short in intensity, that those people leave themselves etched on our minds and hearts forever, because they were able and willing to penetrate that iron cloak of loneliness and insecurity and defensiveness, and distrust and apathy and whatever else that we all wear. Perhaps i shouldn't speak so generally, but this was true in my case.
I know with this email, I am opening myself up to any kind of replies, I only hope people will respect what I have said and who no longer is here to speak. I hope CMcVay(will use the name he used)would not be disappointed or dismayed by anything I've said here.

respectfully,
jessie marie

Jessie, I think you write beautifully, one reason why you could connect straightaway with CMcVay. I laughed at your characterization of adolescent males - "ridiculous cringe-provoking clowns." He would have loved that!

CMcVay was hard to miss in this forum, not only because he was relentless, not only beacuse he never shied away from a good fight (although he later declared that he had become a "lover" rather than a "fighter"), but mostly beacuse he initiated and stoked stimulating exchanges. He stuck to his convictions, defending himself with clear expression and analysis, albeit viciously at times (something which didn't endear him to too many people) but was also gracious in acknowledgement when he could see reason in his co-posters' arguements. I think thats how I will remember him. An honest soul.

If hunted well enough, somewhere in glyphs will be found a request he made me to communicate directly via email. He appreciated my paintings - the leaping eagleman and the Nun and believed that my works display a certain 'wierdness' with which he could identify. And he wished to show me his sketches through email. This was before he could gather enough courage (as he put it) to display his works on a webpage. Somehow I didnt take up his offer - perhaps I should have. Probably would've given me a deeper insight into a fellow artist's psyche. But we did communicate later in this forum - especially during a long discussion on 'Inspiration vs copying' - a CMcVay initiated topic.

There may have been oblique references to CMcVay being glyph's 'resident troll.' If thats what he was, glyphs became a more significant place to visit largely because of his contributions. I can feel the sadness in you, Jessie, and in his nearest and dearest ones. I will also miss him in my own way.

What follows is CMcVay's own writing...

like shadows creeping in...no wait, shadows don't creep
it's the light that washes over objects, creating shadows deep
but light doesn't wash...that's oceanwater that washes, bleaching bodies
destroying bacteria, swallowing down souls from the surface...

******************************

Sincere regards,

Roy

somehow I feel quite familiar with you and all the other "regulars" in here, because over the past couple of days I have read through almost all the "threads" he participated in; one would assume, to gain more insight into his character...But I think, really, just to feel closer to him.
I did have the fortune of seeing his artwork....from many years ago however. i saw many of his sketches...he allowed me to look through the famous sketchbook he carried around with him everywhere. I felt a kinship with him in that respect because I carried a journal around with me everywhere and wrote in it compulsively.
Anyway, his artwork at the time I saw it was very intelligent and skillful. I remember he once drew my portrait, and although it was quite assured in its execution, it did have a somewhat cartoonish feel to it....
it made me smile to see all his comparisons and remarks concerning McDonalds in here....I remember he had one oil pastel of an oblique view of a giant, pale yellow, McDonald's M towering over desolate grayish hills spotted with skulls and bones.
I know what you mean about him being a cross between stimulating and spirited/vicious and perhaps contemptuous.
Believe me, in the years we kept contact through email he forced me to think my replies to the point of research and painful brain expansion otherwise I knew I'd pay for laziness in being on the receiving end of nudging remarks of impatience. Don't get the wrong idea, he wasn't a snobby, high horsed intellectual, he was just a very smart and passionate person, I think who (as a friend of mine recently put it) "lived life with a ravenous and indigestible appetite" and became easily frustrated or bored with those who didn't live with that same insatiable hunger for understanding. I think he got his biggest kicks from the feeling of having stimulated people into really pondering and feeling, and receiving this kind of stimulation himself. The easiest way to win his respect was to keep up with him, and challenge him in a discussion.
I never knew personally someone so physically, mentally and spiritually submitted to his passion. this is something I admired in him almost to the point of envy. It was as if he were a human mirror whereas most people are many-sided prisms....instead of dividing the light he received into several colors, he reflected it all back onto one point: his art...with a passion strong enough to burn through it into impacting others' vision of life and themselves.
After reading the messages and seeing some of the people from this forum's artwork, I am impressed visually and mentally....But having really *known* McVay,having felt both the (almost-intimidating) force of his passion for knowledge and the warmth of his vulnerability, having seen the light in his eyes(having attempted to DRAW those eyes), ...makes me feel a bitter and futile rage over his loss. His value was incalculable.....

i read this that he wrote in this forum:

"this world is full of intangibles...i am sitting here looking over at my bed. the harsh afternoon light is difused by translucent off-white blinds, so the whole room is sort of glowing. i got up to put my hand on the bed, because i could...but as soon as i sat back down the "having done" of touching the bed was gone, as if i had never touched it, and the room is still glowing. there was a girl in that bed not more than 4 hours ago. even with as much emotional & physical energy as was expended there, now there is nothing there again but the bed, glowing and intangible."

It makes me cry as I read it, for it basically describes his life.