jessica grace wing

Sorry everyone... site vandals have won for now. This page will be static until we find a more secure bulletin board system. In the meantime, please send anything you'd like to contribute to Jessica's mother: jenn ifer jenni ferschn eiderdotc om

Sebastian and I are doing all the things I thought we were supposed to be doing with you. The hole just doesn't go away. I miss you very much and think about you all the time. And I'm grateful for this website. Thanks to those who maintain it.

You are the one the one i love you and me no can hung

I was rereading Katherine's piece from the San Francisco Bay Guardian and decided to post it for those of you who haven't seen it. It really captures Jessica's essence.

WHEN I MET Jessica Grace Wing in 1993, she lived in the Mission District in a flat on Guerrero Street, a few apartments down from the neon beacon of the 500 Club cocktail glass at the corner of 17th Street. She liked to say that all music could be divided into three types: weepers, bangers, and noodlers.

Jessica worked as a sound engineer for a black-maned electronic musician called Naut Human, whose studio lair was forebodingly known as the Compound. She performed her own ambient electronica with a group called Weird Blinking Lights at places like Anon Salon.

On July 24, 2003, the night of what would have been her 32nd birthday, about 20 of her San Francisco friends held an informal memorial for her at the Orbit Room Cafe on Market Street. One of her former bandmates brought a commemorative flyer advertising the long defunct group's current gig: Weird Blinking Lights, Jessica Wing Tour of Heaven, July 2

Back in those pre-really-big-money dot-com days, Jessica was an intern at Wired and the music editor at the then-print zine bOing bOing. But it was her own arch Web site that got her written up in a cyberculture column in the New York Post. Her personal site deliciously mocked look-at-me, I-am-so-beautiful vanity pages. And she pulled off the joke – making fun of you for looking, but still making you want to gawk.

I wrote about Jessica, too, in my very first Bay Guardian column back in May 1997, which was a paean to the local art of fast-forward self-discovery. I grinned at her many different incarnations: exuberant Friends and Family raver, corseted goth princess at Roderick's Chamber, and punk rock star of a very obscure Stanford undergrad band called the Turgid Miasma of Existence.

When you write a column like Culture Shocked covering local eclectica like self-help groups for magicians, nude-modeling marathons, an perverted nerds, a.k.a. nerverts, you're often asked how you come up with your ideas.

Aside from obsessively scanning event listings on Craigslist, the real answer is you get to know people who are doing more interesting things than you are. And when you're really desperate, you cajole an indulgent friend to help you make up a spoof. If you're lucky, at least the two of you will be amused.

Back in 1997 Jessica helped me write a goofy send-up of our own lives as recent transplants to the Bay Area in our twenties, including sardonic predictions about what the future would hold. It was a takeoff on the old board game Life, with this headline: "The Game of Life."

I remember writing that column with her at the desk where I am typing this now, kitty-corner from the blue velvet couch she helped me pick out. (Her lingering goth-lite influence means I also own a pair of very macabre sconces that hold candles just close enough to the wall to make even the most laid-back landlord sweat.)

In our mock fantasy of Bay Area life, we noted important milestones, like spreading rumors about which stores on Haight Street are head shops, abandoning your futon on a street corner in the Mission when you finally get a "real bed," and registering your own domain name, preferably an ominous one.

The game was supposed to end many stages and many decades later in Colma, where local teens, dressed up as vampires, would take moody pictures of each other next to your gravestone. "The Morrissey graffiti doesn't bother you now. Soon you'll be reincarnated as a repressed individualistic type in the Midwest who dreams of moving to the Bay Area where you'll be able to just be yourself."

As one of Jessica's friends in New York wrote on a memorial Web site for her, "She held my hand when I got pierced and always helped me feel cooler than I was." I'll second that. She was an intrepid coconspirator, always up to something new. I can't imagine my early Harriet the Spy-turned-columnist years discovering the Bay Area without her.

Jessica died of colon cancer July 19, 2003, at her apartment in Brooklyn, less than a week before her 32nd birthday. In the final days of her life, she finished writing the music for a new opera based on the Hansel and Gretel story, titled Lost. But she didn't live long enough to see her last work debut at the New York City Fringe Festival early this August. I haven't been able to listen to the songs for Lost yet, but I hear they're all weepers.

This is my last Culture Shocked column, so this exploration of local subcultures, idiosyncrasies, and idiocies is over. But this month I'll go to New York to see Jessica's opera with her family and friends. And you'll still find my writing here in the Bay Guardian, usually in Being There, the travel column.

E-mail Katharine Mieszkowski at km@salon.com.

We have met Jessica years ago - young, enthusiastic and full with life and short time before her death - young, enthusiastic but knowing that time is too short to bring to the world her creation.

We remeber her leaving after our meeting, knowing that we may not seeing her anymore, but also knowing that part of her - the important one - has been eternalized in her music and in our hearts.

Leah and Beny Gavish
Israel

Happy belated, Jess. I still cannot believe you are not here.

Gregor has moved into an awesome office of which I'm a big part... and naturally we can't help but think of you. A week or two ago we went out for drinks and talked about you and cried all night.

This creative space is somehow incomplete without you. We both know you belong here. When it comes to this sort of thing, words are woefully inadequate.

I know you'd be proud of both of us. I think my html could finally give you a run for your money.

But I doubt it.

Sebastian

Jessica, thinking of you on your birthday.

With love, Burt

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." ~Kahlil Gibran

Jessica, I have been thinking of you and know that anniversaries can have that effect. Please know that you are held in a light of love that includes your mom and Ben too. I wish you well on this new adventure.
Steve

My name is David and I'm Jessica's cousin. I first met her when she visited my family in Israel when we were both teenagers and again a few years later. she was always full of life, smiling, with a good sense of humor and full of curiosity.

This is how I'll always remember her.

I was in Mindslam with Jess at Stanford ... she really was a kindred spirit... an inspiration to really live and celebrate life's aesthetics... it breaks my heart to find out ... Does devastation bring liberation? I dunno, but thanks, Jess, for everything. I'm grateful that I got to share a brief part of your existence.

My friend Paula, who knew Jessica from babyhood, asked me to post this message:

For Jessica - 4/20/05

The forsythias emerged into bloom slowly this year because of a late spring. Slowly, but surely, they appeared all over Westchester -- and though they seemed to show their hesitant yellow buds all at once, they opened their flowers more fully, depending on their location with regard to the sun. One day early last week, I was driving along on a non-descript road, accomplishing a non-descript chore, when in the corner of a non-descript property I saw the most beautiful array of yellow flowers! The sun seemed directly overhead, and the flowers and light were in full splendor. I had to stop. And then I thought of you.

That was it! From this moment on , as day by day I watched the forsythias open their clusters of gold, I associated the moment of beauty with your memory.

But there are other flowers of yellow and gold that you surely loved at this time of year. in Monday's New York Times, on the front page, was a picture of one of your favorite places -- the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. There, stooping over a fairly large boulder, camera in hand, was a young woman, who could have been you, trying to capture the moment. You would have loved the title of the Times photo, which was "The Call of the Daffodils."

We all know how fervently you welcomed the coming of spring!

Paula Schouten

I was going to add this as a comment to Srini's 9/29/04 post, but I'm getting an error so I'll try it as a post. (This way I can upload a picture as well.)

I never got to know Jessica that well (at least not directly), but as Srini's nerdy freshman year roommate I have a few stories to tell. I'm still getting mileage from the story of Srini, Jessica, Garrett, and Steve starting up a punk rock band called "The Turgid Miasma of Existence" in my freshman year dorm. I remember their first concert in the Soto lounge--Steve didn't even have a drum set yet--I kid you not he was playing on Wilbur Food Service china!!! I must admit I thought the group was doomed, but to my surprise they stuck with it and improved immensely over the next year. Jessica was clearly a force in the group, as Srini was always mentioning things about her wanting the group to do something. (In some ways I thought of them as an old married couple, not always agreeing but realizing that they had a lot in common and both had good ideas.) I last saw the group at Rinc-A-Delt on 4/6/91 on Wilbur Field. (Rinconada was a dorm on campus.) I know this because I bought a tape from them and they all signed it. (Note that the group had mysteriously renamed itself "Mindslam" and the album was titled "This.") I remember Jessica seemed a little shy about giving out her autograph. I couldn't have guessed that years later that autograph would tell me her fate; I saw that a "Jessica" had passed away in Stanford magazine, but I couldn't remember her last name and kept thinking, no, it couldn't be that Jessica. It took me a while to track down the tape, and when I found it and opened it up there was her autograph and I knew.

It's hard to believe, but at least Jessica really lived while she was with us.

I broke out their tape and listened to it tonight. If anybody is interested I could probably convert it to CD or MP3 format pretty easily--as long as Srini promises not to sue me for copyright violation. Boo F Who, man. (Inside joke with Srini there.)

Jessica, a Time Magazine reporter found you online while searching for young people facing death who accomplished extraordinary things during their remaining time. I was glad to talk with her about you. Your story appeared in the March 7 "Connections" section. I still cry when I see your picture or tell people about you, but I am so proud of you and so glad when other people learn about your courage and your accomplishments. You are a tremendous role model for living your life to the fullest during difficult times, for facing adversity with positive thinking and with creativity. I miss you so terribly much. I listen to your music and remember our conversations about writing music and your enthusiasm for your work. One of these days someone with resources will hear the music of "Lost" and will again bring it to the public eye.
Much love,
Mom

Jessica, we went to your mom's birthday party on Friday, February 4th. I remember meeting you at a birthday party for your mom perhaps four years earlier. I still have the photo taken of us and your mom. You and she both radiant in each other's presence, with a resemblence that could not be mistaken. I am glad you finished the opera. I am glad you survived the ordeals of 9/11 and your own personal challenge with such dignity. But I missed being able to hug you or hold your hand at this most recent birthday party. I am good with hypnosis and at the party I would "space out" to see you there with us at Vi's house; you next to your mom, smiling and putting your arms around her whenever she looked introspective. Where or whenever I see your mom, I look for you until I feel your presence. It is alway so comforting to feel and know/feel that you are always with her, helping her survive those tragic events and your physical absence. You are magic. Because I see you wherever she is.
SG

Wherever I went for the last 15 years I carried Jessica in my mind. I vividly remember the last time we hung out at her moms. It was the Fourth of July 1991 and she had a little party at her moms. Many of the Stanford crew were there (they had all just gotten back from Mexico and the eclipse, they camped out on my fathers hotel room floor) We sat on the balcony and talked the night away. I, like many others was strongly touched by her amazing spirit. We met at a party the summer before she left for Stanford and quickly became inseperable. We went to concerts and travelled from Tucson to Stanford and back. We saw the dead together and danced many a night away in Tucson clubs. I have met many of the people who posted and I know you were all touched as I was. I have a box full of pictures and I will try to upload some. I will leave you with this small anectdote, once at a party jessica fell down, without missing a beat she hopped up and stated "Grace is my middle name". I am saddened that I lost touch with her, gladdened that she more than realied the potential I knew she had, and I will forever carry her in my memory as the brilliant, gifted, kind, and generous person that she was.

Nathan Nolan

I can't believe I had to do this: I had to disable anonymous posting on the site due to abuses by spammers. I can't tell you how disgusted this makes me feel about some of the people "out there".

I hope people will continue to post their thoughts on occasion here - you can still do that if you log in.

It's hard to believe it's been a year and a half since we lost Jessica. I think I miss her more now than ever, and I don't know that I'm anywhere near really accepting her passing. She continues to be in my daily thoughts, and I can't imagine that will ever change.

thank all of you for writing so far.

this one's for damian.

damian, i only met you at the memorial, but your reminiscences of jessica bring tears to my eyes. those of us who knew her at Stanford are all SUPER STOKED that she found a companion such as you before she left this world. it really sounds like you caught the jgw magic as well, and perhaps in a purer form than any of us were priveleged to understand. thank you so much for making jessica's life so special; you will always be a brother to me because of the times you shared with her.

not a day goes by that i don't invoke her in my thoughts. she shaped me as she shaped many others during her Stanford years and her influence is a blessing we all share. we lugged amps across campus because we never had a car. we rocked absurdly, nobody could understand us, which makes me so proud like we were in the Residents together or something. i remember working on a punk-rock cover of "fast car" by tracy chapman with her back in '89. now, admit it! that's FUNNY!

it is hard to take seriously that she's "dead" - she has been an important factor in my life for the last year; i hear her singing along as i record... we learned so much about MUSIC and SONGWRITING together. there was a two-year period where we were just plugged into one another and laughed and made really amazing music that perhaps will never get heard. when we first got to our freshman dorm Jessica and I hit it off immediately and as soon as a few guitars were in our hands we set about totally revolutionizing the campus with a music - and attitude - that the two of us and very few others had even heard.

i'm talking too much so i'll stop. the point, damian, is that YOU are INFUSED with the spirit of an INCREDIBLE WOMAN and that makes you SERIOUSLY LUCKY. the loss of jessica is unbearable, but THANK GOD WE KNEW HER, AND PLEASE GOD KEEP HER TALKING TO US. amen.

-s

Dear Jessica, we saw your mom last week. We went for a walk in Sabino Canyon National Park, and then to dinner. Her leg and knee are healing but she still has to take it easy. Your mom lost some weight, making it so easy to see your face in hers. You didn't fall far from the tree... and we are glad to be one of her leaves.
Steve and Joy

After reading, studying, and teaching St. Exupery's  THE LITTLE PRINCE, and after seeing these verses by an anonymous author, I couldn't help thinking of Jessica. I feel that this is what she would have wished us to know:

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.  I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there;  I did not die.

Paula Schouten
Aug 30, 2004

I met Jessica at Cornell admissions camp when I was 16 years old. Back then I was Beth Stickney and was extremely shy. She was so outgoing and friendly! We hit it off right away and had a great time at the camp. After that experience, we wrote back and forth for a while and then, as we lived so far apart, we lost touch. I have often thought of her and the fun we had that summer. I never knew what had become of her until today. I decided to type her name on Google and see if I could find her. I wish I had done it years before.... What a remarkable woman she became! My heart goes out to all of you who have suffered such a terrible loss. I have moved around a lot, so I am not certain how long it will take me to find them, but I will look for the pictures I have from camp so that I can share them with you....

Elizabeth Devecchi
2004/08/26

Jessica,

Your mother has come to visit me in San Francsco this weekend July 31-Aug 2 2004. She is thin again and she looks beautiful. The mother daughter resemblance is right here. She is making strides in creating the quiet life she seeks as her deep love for you and loss of you surrounds her. I don't think any of us realize the the impact of love and loss. She is enormously satisfied however, in knowing, trusting, that the short life you had here on earth was extraordinary, rich, and that you put so much into it; what few create in their normal lifetimes. With your death, she has gained the rich perspective, her truth, that her life too, has been a good one, a rich one and asks little more for herself. She is satisfied.

Your spirit is here in my home. Your music and your talent brings me to a state of awe when I listen to your cd. You left us all some magnificent gifts.
My love to you Jessica, Joyce Lichtenstein

Jessica's life, creativity, positive attitude, and fighting spirit have touched me greatly, as seen through her mother's eyes. Her example came to mind when I was diagnosed with cancer this year -- inspiring me to value friends and family, live life to its fullest, embrace the uncertainty, and exercise my gifts. My heart goes out to all of her loved ones on her birthday. May there be "relics of joy" to ease the pain of your loss. (See poem below)

THE SCENT OF ROSES

Let Fate do her worst; there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.

Long, long be my heart with such memories filled,
Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled --
You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
--Thomas Moore

It feels like forever since you've left us all. Maybe it's partly because I became so involved and at times overwhelmed with my life that I forgot to celebrate yours over the years. I feel ashamed that my busy life kept me from celebrating your beauty and talent. I'm truly the one who lost out. I hope you do know how much. I love you and miss you! I'm glad that I had the opportunity to live with you as a teenager growing up. I hope that you can forgive me and realize how much I really love and miss you!

One thing I remember most fondly about Jessica was her silly side. I think she liked to surround herself with flawed eccentrics, myself proudly included, because it brought out her own weirdness. When she and I played dorky country songs together, she committed herself completely, like a method actor. But the fact remains that the endeavor was silly to the max. I wrote "Women's Prison Blues" and "Two-Headed Frog" for her to sing, and I couldn't quite believe it when she sang those songs with as much gusto as she would her own. After all, my lyrics about cellmates who reek of potatoes were a far cry from the more poetic, respectable offerings with which Jessica is normally associated. People often recall how Jessica influenced them. But I think it's also amazing how open she was to new experiences and to new people. She approached life with eyes wide open, like no one else.

A second, pretty much unrelated, memory of Jessica is of her generosity, particularly with compliments. She once described me as having a "strong inner life." Really it was just social ineptitude (I fall silent midway through most conversations), but the compliment touched me deeply and, perhaps ironically, I think of it often. Thanks, Jess.

I've known Jessica since she was about 15, through Jacqueline Sharkey, my mentor from journalism school, and her longtime companion, Bill Wing, Jessica's dad. Anyway, I auditioned for one of Jessica's movies, "The Long Road Back," a hilarious caper she had written. I was shocked when she actually chose me for the part of Ilona, the ex-wife of one of the two main characters. Jessica had decorated Ilona's bedroom with great care. She wore miniskirts and fancy cowgirl boots, and liked to sleep in silk nighties. Ilona also had a white ceramic unicorn, with a gold horn, lying in repose on her dresser. Jessica laughed and laughed about that unicorn. She found humor in its "kitschy coolness" and the fact that a grown woman would have such a girlish memento as a unicorn on her dresser. Well, call me kitschy, or call me cool, but I became rather attached to that unicorn during filming and asked Jessica if I could have it as a memento of my first speaking part in a movie when the filming was done. Of course, she agreed, and I have carried it around with me with for six or seven years now. The unicorn, which I named Grace after Jessica died, sits in my bathroom where I can see her everyday. It is such a lovely reminder of Jessica, and fitting in that a unicorn is a majestic, magical, unique, strong and beautiful creature, just like Jessica was.

When in love and together, time has wings... and when apart, time is on crutches. A year without Jessica is way too long. My heart goes out to her mom, Jennifer, her wonderful Damian, and so many loving friends that have shared their hearts here. We will always love you and think of you.
Steve g

There is no compensation, there is nothing to write that doesn't seem desperate, outgoing, heavy with effort, trying so hard to fill something that doesn't get filled. But Damian I loved reading about your first date. Maybe there's the content - just memories. You two were a force, funny, together, in love, idiosyncratic so incredibly specific and different. I loved you in her life, so strong and always imploring: downshift, drive forward, live. You two were like voracious carnivores for life experience. I still feel corrupted, still feel that nothing will ever be the same, still can't think sometimes, words gone dry and useless and here comes spring, can't help itself, here it comes anyway.

Jessica has visited me several times in my dreams. She has a constant presence in my life. My office mate has teeth that resemble hers. I see her smile and I feel Jessica close. (Silly to remember someone by her teeth?) She was my step-sister, younger than me but she never let herself be babied by me. She was my intellectual superior by far. I was almost embarrassed to talk to her because I believed she would think I was an idiot. She never gave me reason to believe that. It was just me. Jessica and I were so far apart in distance and frequency that we saw each other. When we came together, it was always a wonderful reunion. Because Jennifer lives in Tucson with me, I would always learn about her projects and challenges. I bragged about her often. I still feel like she is here on earth, just on the other side of the country.

To all Jessica's friends and loved ones. Thank you for sharing. Damian, my heart hurts for you. One can only pray to be loved half as much as you loved Jessica.

Tonight was our anniversary. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve barely spoken to friends or family for weeks. Human contact requires too much pretense, or else too much honesty. In the same way, I’ve avoided looking at this site since Sebastian first built it because I just couldn’t take it. Its very public for me, but now that I’ve sat down to write something here I guess I’m going to really let the dogs loose so apologies in advance for the length and the self-indulgence.

I spent the day working on the music mix of the recording we made of “Lost”. It feels good this work, good to make something and have it be connected so intensely to Jessica. I worked hard, concentrating on the music, and I didn’t think again until it had grown dark and late. Leaving the studio I decided to celebrate instead of going home as I’d planned.

On our first date Jessica and I had dinner at a small French restaurant in the meat-packing district called La Luncheonette and then went to see the play “Hedwig and The Angry Inch” and then ended up at 3am at an old bar called the Red Lantern. We had a little ritual of going back to that restaurant every year. I went and had a bourbon at the bar and thought about that night, the two of us talking and then kissing for the first time on the dilapidated Victorian couch by the window, a heart-stopping moment when my hand moved warmly along her rib-cage, not knowing then but maybe suspecting that this woman would change me forever and infuse me with a belief in true love and show me what it means to feel something without a shadow of a doubt.

They were playing some pretty bad music there tonight but the bar was the same with its red-lit chandeliers and textured wallpaper. A huge fat man came in selling flowers saying “roses, red roses, keep romance alive…” and I talked to him for a minute and then went and had dinner at the restaurant.

I had duck for an appetizer and venison for dinner, wanting to eat wild things and having missed out on my annual haunch of deer meat from my mother’s bow-hunting friend, and the food was so good and the owner called me honey and I was suddenly surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. I was sitting in the corner three tables from where we sat that first night. There was an older couple there, a bearded balding guy in his fifties wearing leather pants and a slightly younger woman wearing big glasses with a loud and musical laugh. They seemed to be in love. I remembered how nervous Jess and I were, how both of us were unsure we were on a date at all, how stunning she was with her raven’s wing hair and lunar beauty. People will tell you to live in the present but I think the amazing thing about the human mind is that we can live simultaneously in the moment, in the resonance of memory, and in thoughts of the future.

I took the train back to Brooklyn after dinner and said goodbye to a friend leaving in the morning. And now, late at night, I decided to look at this site and I read all these incredible things written by Jessica’s friends and lovers and family and I decided, unwisely, to add all of this.

So- if you’re still with me, here are the lyrics to three of the songs Jessica Grace and I sang the night Chris wrote about below. They are three of our favorites.

Irish ballad by Tom Lehrer (my nieces’ favorite too)

About a maid I'll sing a song,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
About a maid I'll sing a song,
Who didn't have her fam'ly long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did ev'ryone of them in, them in,
She did ev'ryone of them in.

One morning in a fit of pique,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One morning in a fit of pique,
She drowned her father in the creek.
The water tasted bad for a week,
And we had to make do with gin, with gin,
We had to make do with gin.

Her mother she could never stand,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
Her mother she could never stand,
And so a cyanide soup she planned.
The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
Her face in a hideous grin.

She set her sister's hair on fire,
a-Rickety-tickety-tin,
She set her sister's hair on fire,
And as the smoke and flame rose high'r,
Danced around the funeral pyre,
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin.

She weighted her brother down with stones,
a-Rickety-tickety-tin,
She weighted her brother down with stones,
And sent him off to Davy Jones.
All they ever found were some bones,
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,
Occasional pieces of skin.

One day when she had nothing to do,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One day when she had nothing to do,
She cut her baby brother in two,
And served him up as an Irish stew,
And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
Invited the neighbors in.

And when at last the police came by,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
And when at last the police came by,
Her little pranks she did not deny.
To do so she would have had to lie,
And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
Lying, she knew, was a sin.

I’m on Fire
by Bruce Springsteen

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
I'm on fire

Tell me now baby is he good to you
Can he do to you the things that I do
I can take you higher
I'm on fire

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby
edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
through the middle of my soul

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
and a freight train running through the
middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire
I'm on fire

I See a Darkness
By Will Oldham

[FIRST VERSE:]
Well, you're my friend
And can you see
Many times we've been out drinking
Many times we've shared our thoughts
Did you ever, ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got
Well you know I have a love, for everyone I know
And you know I have a drive, for life I won't let go
But sometimes this opposition, comes rising up in me
This terrible imposition, comes blacking through my mind

[CHORUS:]
And then I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Do you know how much I love you
Cause I'm hoping some day soon
You'll save me from this darkness

[SECOND VERSE:]
Well I hope that someday soon
We'll find peace in our lives
Together or apart
Alone or with our wives
And we can stop our whoring
And draw the smiles inside
And light it up forever
And never go to sleep
My best unbeaten brother
That isn't all I see

[CHORUS:]
And then I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Do you know how much I love you
Cause I'm hoping some day soon
You'll save me from this darkness

And here’s a little note I wrote to Jess in the first days when we were courting. I meant to have Bisan sing it at the memorial in Arabic so I could share it and still maintain some decent sense of privacy but here it is in its original highly imperfect and naked state displayed for all to see like a shameless hussy.

More Simple Words for Jessica Grace Wing

The smell of night and
The dark woods is strong on her;
Her lips are filled with blood.
Moans spill from them like sap from the trees.
In the salt of her skin,
I taste the beginning of all things.
I hunger for it. A blind wolf,
I know nothing but hunger.
The urge to devour her is strong,
It is stronger than love and
I hold it tight between my jaws.

It was a hard night for me tonight. I seemed caught between my sadness and that moment when we first kissed and my hand moved along the warm smooth skin beneath the breast of the woman I seemed to have been looking for without knowing it my whole life. It was good to read what you have written here though. Thanks. And thanks Sebastian for the work and art.

d

hi all-- added a bunch of new photos to the photo section of the main site as well as a couple links to reviews of 'lost' in the 'lost' section.

best,
sebastian

There were so many times over the last couple of years when I looked at Jessica and thought, "Wow, this fabulous funny talented woman is my new sister." This picture is from a week most of my family spent in Cape Cod.

We built a bonfire on the beach and sat around trying to remember songs. Most of the time, we could only come up with a line or two, but Jessica, the theatrical trooper, would just keep strumming away trying to pick out the tune. Of course, she and Damian knew a couple themselves, there was a Bruce Springsteen song and some scary disgusting song that my neices loved. I miss Jessica so much and I think about her every day. She brought so much to my life, and the life of my family and especially the life of my brother Damian that I just cannot believe we have come to the end of the shore. I looked out over the ocean last night and I could still see her smile reflected on the dark waves and hear her singing on the wind.

In January 2003, I left New York City, where Jessica and I had been very close friends, to start a new life in Texas. It was hard to leave her behind, knowing that her prognosis was not good. She and I had attended many chemo sessions together, and many more nights making country-fried music. She knew her time was short (although I don't think she knew *how* short) and knew she had to plan the coming weeks and months very carefully. Her time was precious. So it was an incredible honor that she and Damian attended my wedding in Texas on February 1.

Jessica appeared in such good health then, and no one knew she was sick, either at the party the night before or at the ceremony itself. She gave a tearful toast at the reception, acknowledging how difficult the past couple of years had been, and thanking me for being there. It was touching and heartfelt, and although most of the attendees didn't know just how hard those years had been, all were moved by toast. We hugged. We cried. And that was the last time I saw her until July, when I made a sudden trip to New York on the day of her death.

The months between February and July were hard. While Jessica was dying, I was settling into married life 2,000 miles away. We fell out of touch for a little while. Then she called me and expressed how upset she was that our friendship had faltered. From that day forward, we had weekly phone dates. Sadly, this lasted only a few weeks, until she became too sick to talk. The last few phone dates were actually between Damian and me, with D giving me updates on Jessica's health, and Jessica occasionally speaking a few breathless words into the phone.

It was very important to me to see Jessica again before she died. And I did, although only by a few hours. She was one of the best friends I've ever had, and she worked hard to preserve that friendship, even from a long distance away and while suffering immensely. I've held off on contributing to this testimonials page because I didn't know where to begin. She was so wonderful, in so many ways, to so many people. I'll miss her.

Noah

Hi everyone. Sorry I've been out of the loop. Finally made some updates to the main site and uploaded some beautiful pictures of Jessica that Jennifer, Jess's mom, sent me. Seeing those pictures made me shed tears all over again-- and I realize that the loss of Jessica isn't something that can just heal in time. I guess I'll always carry a piece of Jessica around with me.

Thinking of her this holiday, and wishing everyone out there a happy and safe holiday with family and loved ones.

regards,
Sebastian
(webmaster)

The Christmas card I've just sent out to friends has a photo of Jessica on the front. It was taken on her last birthday, July 24, 2002, by her soulmate Damian. Here it is.

Jennifer

I received a wonderful rememberance of Jessica on a holiday photo card sent my her mom, Jennifer. It is a lovely photo that warms my spirit with the gratitude of having the privilege to know this gifted soul. Life will go on... and so will Jessica... with us.
Steven Gurgevich

Iknew Jessica when she was born, and over the years loved to hear about her and her brother Ben in letters from their mother. I jumped at any chance to see them, and was lucky to get together with Jessica a few times in New York. When she had been in the city only a few months, her mother arranged for us to spend a day together, something that surely was much more exciting for me than it was for her, but she was charming and warm. We met in the studio apartment she was subletting on 13th Street and took the A train up to the Cloisters. I was amazed at how easily she had learned to get around the city in such a short time.

We looked at the marvelous old statues and tapestries, and I asked her a million questions, because I knew enough about her erudition to know that she would know the answers. We ate at the little restaurant in Fort Tryon Park. The Cloisters that day were luminous and alive, I'm sure because I was with Jessica. I went again last weekend and they seemed dry and lifeless.

Back on 13th Street, Jessica played some music she had written that demonstrated some masterful counterpoint, and then she sailed off on her skates on a dozen errands connected with her work.

It has always amazed me to read about gifted young people who arrive in New York and build careers in the arts. In a short time Jessica had the place on a string. She was a player among players. It is quite a thrill to see someone you have known from babyhood staking out a claim in the city that attracts the best in the world.

The last two years of Jessica's life have shown us that, yes, God has played dice with the universe, and we wonder what we can believe. Well, we have the music. Just like the tapestries, Jessica's luminous, complex music is there, like a host of flowers bursting forth, and nothing can take that away.

I was fortunate in sharing much of Jessica's growing up years. I first met
her when she was nine. She was brilliant and creative, but most of all, a
lovely and caring person. She was always kind to me and my three daughters
and used her unique sense of humor to ease the sometimes difficult process
of blending two families. Not being her "real father," I could smile at the
blue hair and nose ring she wore in her early 20's. I am proud of her many
achievements.

Together with her mom, we visited Maui and I remember our 38-mile downhill run on
bikes from the top of Mt. Haleakala. We were suited up like space travelers to
protect ourselves from the early morning cold. Sensing my reluctance to make
this trip, she encouraged me with her warm smile.

I last saw Jessica in New
York just before the horrendous attacks on the WTC. At that time, I think
she knew she was saying goodbye.

Jessica, I miss you very much.

Burt

I just found this interesting interview with Jessica on ABC News.com, from last year. You can read it on
http://abcnews.go.com/sections/living/Healthology/HO_youngcancer_030226.html
Jennifer

I just found this montage Jessica created in a photo class she took at Stanford in 1992. It makes me think of Jessica looking down at us from heaven.
Jennifer

I only met Jessica three or four times, but she left a vivid memory--she was beautiful, exotic, and fun to talk to. I truly enjoyed the moments I spent with her. One of the saddest things about an artist's death is the loss of the work she might have created, especially when death comes too soon. I know Jessica would have created much beautiful work.

- Victoria Strauss

she was my only sister, and i loved her so much, and always will. we grew closer around age 21, and stayed that way ever since; we lived together for many years in san francisco during the 1990's. death at such an early age, in such an unfair way, is just so wrong.

i miss you more than i can say.

love, ben

photos from 1973, 1981, 1988, 1998.

Although I only met Jessica once briefly, she has made a lasting impression
on my life.

Her mother's love for her and pride in her talents has been a topic of
regular conversation between us over the years. She truly left the world a
better place in her short stay with us. I am grateful to have known her in
her mother's eyes.

Kathy Norgard

I first met Jessica at a fashion show we were participating in (Dark Garden corsets) and she was truly otherworldly in her beauty. I was totally surprised when she came right up to me and started talking as if we had been friends forever, giving instant affection, being totally accessible. It was so hard to believe that someone that stunning would be so kind, and then to add to the impossibility, she was also brilliant. I want to say that she is gone because she was too good for this world, but actually... she was just the opposite with people - she was humble and sweet... and much needed. The regrets are so many, they strain my heart.

I met Jessica first through her mom and email. I met Jessica in person. I met Jessica again through her art. And I keep meeting her through the kind and loving words of respect for her in Spirit. I am very grateful and so blessed to know this lovely, loving artist.
Steven Gurgevich

I knew Jessica. And I know she would be proud to know what I have finally come away with from all this. Loving people is the most important thing. If you're lucky enough to have found someone you can love, don't hold back. Tell them you love them everyday. Cross an ocean to tell them. Show them in any and every way you can. Don't take for granted this chance life offers you.
I wish I'd told Jessica more.

Here is a photo of Jessica that I like.
Jennifer

It's been over 3 months since Jessica's death, and this is the first time I've had the courage to visit this site. I'm so grateful for the many nice things Jessica's friends posted on this site, and for the sorrow expressed by people who hardly knew her. I would love to see postings from people who knew Jessica and recall any anecdotes or experiences they had with her.
Jennifer

It's amazing how one person may touch the lives of many. I never knew Jessica Wing, but a friend of mine said she saw "Lost: the Musical." So moved by the performance, she spoke to me about the music and the composer, and how she recently passed away. Having my father battling his life for the past year and other personal tragedies, I really needed something to bring light and hope into my life. I happened across the website in memorial to Jessica, and I read on. By the end I was brought to tears, that such a beautiful individual with so much to offer has left us. Then I smiled. I realized she has not left us, and that her story and life still continues. I decided to share this with the ones I love, and sent an e-mail with her message. In it I attached a link to the wonderful story in the "Tuscon Citizen." In the article, I was moved by the fact she worked arduously until the day she passed, stating "Now I can really say that I am a composer." I never knew Jessica Grace Wing, I wish I had, but I know I didn't to be touched by her life.

You can watch a videoclip of the story here, which gives a taste of what "Lost" looks and sounds like: http://www.msnbc.com/news/957714.asp

Jessica Grace Wing has left us. Yet, if her name is descriptive of her destiny, she is aloft forever, her art her legacy and her memory precious. Fly fast and far, with Godspeed, Miss Jessica.

Ivan Abrams
Tucson, Arizona

You never really know how much you will regret not establishing a relationship with someone until it is way too late. I only really met Jessica at a family reunion in Denver when I was 5 or 6 or something really insane. Turns out she is only ~2 years older than me, but when I met her and Ben I felt alot younger than that. I can remember them introducing me to Kiss and "The Hobbit", and I remember having a great deal of fun with them. Then we went our separate ways in life and were only connected by the advent of email and the internet a few brief moments in time.

Jessica sounds like someone I would have loved to hang with. To go watch a show or listen to music or to see perform in her bands or whatever. Sadly enough I did not make the effort, even when I was in NYC on business. There is a life lesson in here somewhere, hopefully I will be wise enough to act upon it.

Jeff Petters
Raleigh, NC

It's funny and sad, about three days ago I thought about her-You know how every once in a while you might think of an old friend in your past and wonder how they're doing. I remember we were friends in summer camp at Camp Adventure. We would hang out, have fun, have sleep-overs, be silly and laugh as young girls tend to do together. Then I was lucky enough to go on to junior high with her at Utterback. We didn't share many classes togther, or even lunch hour, but I shared the bus ride home with her. We would talk about our days. Who we liked. What we liked. We talked about boys. We talked about music. I would share my imaginary life with faries that I played when I was younger and sometimes even share my poetry with her. I felt as she would never judge me no matter what I did or said. Jessica would make beautiful beautiful sketches of their faces, their her untamed hair, their beautiful eyes. It was way obvious she was a talent then. We had so much fun together. I am so saddened by this. But she lived her life. She wasn't afraid to live. Most people are. Most people are afraid to TRY. This we can learn from. She was a brilliant woman. Yes, this beautiful person was my companion, my friend, and I let her go, like we let so many people in our lives, when we move on in our lives, change schools, move, and get involved with different people. I remember she was so fun and silly and goofy. I remembered that she had so many freckles and I wondered what she looks like now. I won't let her go because her memories will remain in my heart and I feel honored to have the opportunity to learn from her life, how short that it may have been.

This was just printed yesterday:
http://www.tucsoncitizen.com/index.php?page=living&story_id=082603e1_jessicawing

To the friends and family of Miss Jessica...I am so sorry that I was not able to attend the memorial on the tenth of August. I would have loved to be surrounded by the amazing individuals that filled the life of an amazing individual like Jessica. Jessica was one of the first students I met when I moved to the big city of New York and began Columbia University's Film program. This gorgeous woman offered so much kindness and support to me that I was suddenly put to ease in the City and the huge endeavor of film school. Most importantly, Jessica INSPIRED me. Her sense of self was so strong yet so calm and "all-knowing" - she truly is an inspiration to me. Jessica's spirit will always live on in my heart and undoubtedly in the great hearts of her friends and family.
My world would not be the same without Miss Jessica.

I can't believe it... I was just thumbing through Time Out New York and came upon a terrific review of LOST. I got to the part where it said "and the music, by the late composer JGW, so enchantingly surrenders to the simple storytelling". I was totally shocked. I had no idea she had passed away. I immediately started searching the internet and found all the info. This is so tragic. She was so young. I knew her briefly during an INVERSE show I worked on with her.
-----------------------------------
A few years ago I had the good fortune to work with Jessica on THE DEATH OF DON FLAGRANTE DELICTO. I was thrilled to be part of that project and to sing her beautifully crafted songs. She was so much fun to be around, and always made me feel that I did her songs justice. This is such a great loss. I will always remember her as a remarkably talented and beautiful person.

-Kathleen Hunt

An article about Jessica's play/musical/opera in the New York Times (thanks, Sebastian):

http://www.nytimes.com/2003/08/11/arts/theater/11WING.html

I'm so sad, and moved, and pissed off at the loss of Jessica, and I'm not sure I can even figure out why. I didn't know her at all. Maybe it's just that she seems like someone who I would have been blessed, and honored, and lucky to know. Or maybe it's because the spirit that she, by all accounts, embodied is something that touches me to the core. Whatever the reason...I don't know...I just wanted to put this out there.

I did not know Jessica well. She asked me to shoot a film of hers once and I was tied up.

Nevertheless, i was shook up when I learned that she died. Not so much because I was a good friend. I think it was because because she was young and a peer and she suddenly disappeared. I am no longer so young myself to believe that I will never die. But it usually dones't feel so close.

I took some time to visit Jessica's web site after her death. I am a music lover and I was immediately drawn some of the MP3s. One - the theme from "The Burnt Woman of Harvard" immediately froze me. It was beautiful, melancholy, even a bit painful. For a moment, even though I did not know Jessica well, I felt as she spoke to me through the wails of the cello. I don't cry often but I did when that MP3 ended.

I consider myself an artist. With the highest hope that something I created will move someone, somwhere to feel something. Jessica did that with a 15 second excerpt from a song.

Of course I now deperately wish that I grown to know her better. To work with her. Or just be able to experience more of her art. (And she appears to have been pretty damn prolific judging from her website.) But it will have to wait for some moment in the future our paths might cross again.

i had the immense pleasure and honor to play in a band with jess, weird blinking lights. playing in front of people is a bonding experience, and playing completely unrehearsed, improvisational music even more so. when one-third of WBL moved out of the country, he recommended jessica to fill his shoes, and fill them she did. our popularity grew. she was a completely gifted musician and engineer. i think one of the best compliments i have ever recieved from anyone was her praise, and her saying that she really liked what i did and liked playing music with me. until then, i felt a little like an amatuer, i suppose. i had been in a lot of bands so far in my life and i hadn't been given that compliment in quite that was and it was really wonderful. i've never apprecated the respect of a fellow musician more, and i treasure the hours upon hours of DATs of our shows, as well as the memories they convey.

i added her picture to the altar at the most recent friends & family party, we played many FNF gigs. also i have added her name to the 2003 memorial plaque of past burning man participants who have gone before us on the inevitible leap from this mortal coil. she'll grace more altars, so to speak.

I hadn't heard about this until just now, so I thought I'd point it out for others:

http://www.nytimes.com/2003/08/03/nyregion/03WING.html

Well, Jess, it's great that you're in hyper-spirit-space here. Floating around on the wires and waves.

Jess and Sebastian and I once worked on a film project called 27 Secrets. Jessica came up with this excellent component of the script -- that the result of time travel could be that we're all turned into antimatter. And that if we visit another time, we only move backwards. I don't know anything about antimatter, but we really loved the idea of a person only revisiting a time backwards.

In another film project Jess and I worked on, she asked me to produce a music video remake of "Careless Whisper", covered by some Miami-based up and coming musician who was being managed by some Italian guys she had met. They were putting up $10K, or something like that. She wanted me to find a really cool laundromat. I went all over New York City looking for a really cool laundromat. We went together looking for really cool laundromats. Eventually, the Italians disappeared, or at least, didn't make the project. Why is it that I love that story so much? But I do. Of course the Italians didn't do it.

How many thousands of little stories. I have a thousand more moments with Jess. She and I purchased tulip bulbs online together. We talked about seeing Molly Ringwald shopping for plants in the East Village. We met all the time at the Mission Cafe on 2nd Avenue. She made my web site - we traded numerous emails about whether the page blue.html was actually blue.

Jess was a great friend. I'm angry without her. I want to kick garbage cans over and break streetlamps. Spend a night in jail.

Gregor Clark

People always seem know how to react when you lose a family member, but they usually assume that losing a friend somehow has less of an impact. Jessica was as important to me as any member of my family. Even though it's to be expected, it bothers me that many of my acquaintances don't realize this.

I miss you terribly, Jess.

This whole thing breaks my heart. We all miss you a lot.

Jess was one of those friends that was so rare in that she shined so bright. She held my hand when I got pierced and always helped me feel cooler than I was.

I just remembered that Jess and I collaborated on a long ass paper on Hitchcock for film school. We got an A+ I'm happy to report. When I got the paper back it was interesting reading through the prof's comments. Everything Jess wrote was bracketed with a 'brilliant,' 'wise deduction,' 'insightful observation' etc. My contributions received 'hmmm? really?' or 'i don't think so' or 'did you see the same movies as i did?'

I don't really know what else to say. Jessica was lovely in all ways and I miss her dearly.

Sebastian

but here's a photo of jess in tucson a couple of years ago