Little Loud.

A year ago today one of my best friends passed away.

He left behind a loving family, an infinite amount of friends and an infectious smile that will be seared into our memories forever. Not to mention all the Miller High Life beers and Parliament cigs that were spared.

Kelley embodied what it means to be a Superbeast. Creative, hilarious, conscious, and always willing to push the envelope for whatever he cared deeply about. He didn't follow paths, he cleared his own with a big, dull machete.

He and I first met about 10 years ago at Grumpy's Bar in downtown Minneapolis. He was hanging out with Flora and some other mutual friends. My first impression of him was that he was a loud and unrelenting asshole. "Who is this punk?"

About 4 years later we crossed paths again. This time at portfolio school. I introduced myself and asked him if he remembered the first time we met. In his own special way he looked me over and exclaimed "Holy shit, you got fat!" Then he slapped me on the back and said "what's up man!" That's what was so great about Kelley. He had this innate ability to get under your skin, but then make sure you knew he was with you.

We immediately hit it off. We would often talk about art projects and music over beers. For school work, we would burn serious hours at coffee shops and at my office in the Grain Belt Building in Northeast Minneapolis. He was super talented. Not just as an art director/designer, but as a thinker. He would often have an idea that we would both get excited about, only to see it appear in Communication Arts a week later. That happened like 5 times while we went to school. It was a running joke. Kelley was the guy that thought of big ideas but didn't share them with the world fast enough.

In one of our first classes together, our teacher Randy Gosda assigned a semester long art project. Kelley never told anyone what he was working on until the night of the presentation. While I was killing myself trying to restore a set of antique theater chairs, Kelley was quietly creating a masterpiece. That night Kelley assembled an entire carnival baseball toss game inside the school. It was amazing. Students lined up to throw baseballs at the plates and stenciled bottles. It was the art of destruction. A perfect way to relieve frustrations after a grueling semester.

I hope to continue writing these little memories of Kelley. There are many. In the past year I have connected with his Mother Diane, and keep in contact with his buddies Pat and Tom through Facebook. They are great reminders of how special this dude was.