My friend of many years, Marcelo Aviles passed away very suddenly a little over a week ago. I am still in disbelief of this as reality and feel very far away from “home”. Grief has been this persistent sticky thing in my life the last 3 years. Just when I think I have a grip on it, it finds reason to surface again, each time, at first like a punch in the gut, followed by nauseating waves of disbelief and nostalgia. It is disruptive, and ever disorienting yet always somehow different. Now it seems to be this thing that is always just beneath the surface. Wincing faintly until it flares and expands in new shapes, smells, and awareness, forcing me to reassess.
Marcelo, or Celo as many people called him, was one of my first roommates in San Francisco where I lived for almost 10 years. We remained good friends ever since. He showed up to all my performance art events, always with his giant warm smile. I remember he attended a food performance I did at Meridian Gallery called “Huele, Oye y Jama” to honor my grandfather’s passing. I made enchilado de mariscos (seafood stew) and had participants play my grandfather’s records. He arrived early, stayed through the whole event, insisted on making sure I was hydrated and would feed me spoonfuls of his food. He always said he loved that seafood stew.
Up until I moved out of California we didn’t let too much time pass without seeing each other and catching up. Sometimes that meant going to a show, try an obscure restaurant, sharing a bottle of wine, having a cocktail at the Royal Cuckoo bar, going dancing or a hike in Pacifica or Glen Canyon or weed his backyard. He knew I loved a garden hang.
Huele, Oye y Jama, Meridian Gallery 2011
There were several times where Marcelo helped me get through rough patches of housing instability or was just a quiet nonjudgemental source of support through difficult times and questionable relationships. He was easy great company, never critical but his face said everything he was thinking. He was comfortable with himself and knew how to be present. He made being his friend very easy.
During covid we visited each other. He came to hang with me in Ventura. Modeled some ceramic wares for me and even commissioned my first set of matching cups and plates. Shortly after I went to SF and stayed with him. If you were single and alone through any part of covid, being able to commune with a friend had so much weight. It really helped make the loneliness of what felt like a never ending global isolation bearable.
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more excited about live music and he made that his life. He was an accomplished Program Director for the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival for almost 2 decades. He had excellent taste in music and would break out into a funny dance at any moment, with a clap, knees bent, arms up, little bounce, wide smile.
I can honestly say, I am so fucking lucky to have known him and had such a lovely platonic friend ship with such a great person. To me and many, San Francisco will not be the same without him.
I hate having this awareness but while grief is an absolute bitch it is also a teacher. This time it is telling me to dance more, go see more live music, call my parents, attempt to make a roast lamb even remotely close to as good as Marcelo made it, be of steady, selfless service to my community advocating for what I love and smile.
Local SF station KALW’s DJ Wonway dedicated this great show to him including some of his favorites artists and songs. It’s a great representation of his spirit. I encourage you to listen and even dance if you feel compelled. https://soundcloud.com/wonway/in-celebration-of-marcelo-aviles
Thanks for reading. This was a tough but necessary one to put down.
xo- Cristina
Image of me acting a fool out in Pacifica by Marcelo Aviles