Bowie, My Bowie: Eight years that influenced my life

I’ve written this tribute nearly a week after David Bowie’s death. It’s only now that I’ve felt able to put my feelings into words. While his death was a shock, nothing prepared me for the shock of my own emotional response and the concealed depth of feeling I held for this man. Never before have I been so moved by the death of one of my heroes. The passing of creative heroes, such as Warhol, Lou Reed and Lennon, all resonated with sadness and reflection but I just moved on shortly after. Bowie, I now realise, is very different. Unlike Warhol and others, Bowie feels like a friend and creative mentor, complex but accessible. It has led me to experience the strange and untypical sensation of butterflies in the stomach and a feeling of loss. This was amplified by the fact that I’d been listening to his latest studio album, Blackstar, over the weekend of his death and felt I’d reconnected to his consciousness through his music, or so I thought. This was in itself unusual, as I hadn’t listened to any of his albums in their entirety since the early 80s. Continue reading