Victoria Nicodemus was hit and killed last night when a driver of a SUV jumped a curb to avoid hitting a bus. She was 30 years old and was out walking with her boyfriend. She was a curator at indiewalls, an online gallery that has been selling my smoke drawings for the last few years. I had just been in contact with Victoria about a pending art sale. She had been a little relentless but we talked pleasantly on the phone a week or so ago. Then I sent her a jerky email on Saturday, the day before she died.

It was a frustrating situation regarding a needed high res photo of a smoke drawing I had sold to my friend in Austin, Texas and another one I was having mailed to me from nh. We had some miscommunication and were working together to figure it out, but I regret sending that last email, where I basically said she wasn’t doing her job well. I’m sorry Victoria.

I’m writing this not only to confess but also to suggest we treat everyone we encounter with respect, at least as much as we’re capable of, and think before critizing someone. Most of us are doing the best we can and those of us in nyc are usually juggling multiple projects, jobs, lovers, or ambitions. Victoria was like a collaborator to me and I know she will be missed at indiewalls and all the artists and clients she was working with.

My condolences and deepest sympathises to her family and friends. And her boyfriend that she was walking with, who was released with minor injuries from Brooklyn hospital, where Victoria passed away. It’s clear everyone involved; other pedestrians, doctors, etc., did everything they could. This is just very sad. And there have been too many pedestrian’s killed in a pedestrarian city.

Coincidentally, I performed a spoken word poem I called, “last rites,” last night. However, mine was written for a lover and was a metaphorical death, one I don’t even want to have happen. I emailed it to the guy it was addressed to at 2am when I got back to my friend’s house, where I’m currently staying. I’d be lying if I said I’m not thinking about telling him I’m sorry too. Because it wasn’t all his fault. Actually, in hindsight, it was mostly mine.