On the morning of January 7th, we lost a lightning bolt of a human being and the world feels less bright without him.
There are no words that could adequately sum up what a truly special person Dave Creek was. Those of us close to him knew how lucky we were to know someone as unique, talented, encouraging, and god damn hilarious as Dave. His sense of humor was like no one else’s, his impulsivity kept you on your toes, and the playfulness and warmth he radiated was infectious. He lived to the absolute extreme and loved with his entire, whole-ass heart. If he liked you, he made sure you felt it (usually with a bone-crushing hug). He was an excitable, happy puppy in a giant’s body and we loved him for it.
I met Dave at Cal Arts and right from the start something just clicked. It’s rare when you meet someone who just gets you on a fundamental level and we got each other right away. I’m pretty sure a lot of it had to do with our natural inclination to laugh our asses off at anything involving someone flipping out while screaming and swearing. Over the next 15 years we remained close friends and felt like an unstoppable team when we were together, pushing each other forward through our careers and relationships, while making time to laugh till our sides hurt through it all. We were there for each other through life’s highs and lows to celebrate, commiserate, or when you just needed a friend to get blitzed with and watch Deadwood. Dave was honest in a way only a true friend is willing to be. He cheered me on when I was doing well, and told me straight when I was slacking off, verbally pulling me out of my pity party by the ear and giving me a good, loving shove forward. He believed in me when I barely believed in myself. There were few opportunities to return this kind of tough love encouragement as Dave had a resolve forged in white hot energy. When he decided to do something, there was quite literally nothing that could stop him. We had each other’s back no matter what and absolutely adored each other.
Dave‘s talent was nothing short of legendary. The first time I saw his animation was the Open Show I snuck into before starting Cal Arts. It was his 3rd year film, Frenchy, Bob, and the Hat and the entire hall erupted with cheers as “a film by Dave Creek” hit the screen, with that Celtic bagpipe music that is so essentially Dave blasting through the room. I was completely floored. His work was so thoughtful, visually striking, and full of personality- I knew right then I wanted to meet him. His first year film Rooftops was also a straight up masterpiece, done completely in charcoal because Dave, being the maniac he was, felt like he needed to make the whole experience of making his first film even more challenging.
Dave was also so encouraging and a natural teacher. If you needed help understanding anything- whether it was animation, storyboarding, character design, layout, whatever- he always cleared time to show you, no questions asked. You could see it on his face how happy he was creating anything and he wanted to share that joy with anyone who wanted to learn. He was one of the most naturally talented people in animation and it poured out of him so effortlessly it was almost infuriating. As with the guy himself, there was an unstoppable energy and playfulness in everything he created- from his fluid animation, to his Bob’s Burger character designs, to his stunning treehouses, and you couldn’t help but smile while admiring his work. Dave smiled back at everyone through his work and you felt it. Being able to create anything alongside Dave was like hitching yourself to a rocket that flew so fast and burned so bright it could blind you, and you couldn’t help but be inspired and want to keep up with him.
These last few days have been a never-ending ebb and flow of debilitating grief and sorrow with periods of joy and laughter in remembering everything that made Dave such a wonderful person. Remembering the hilarious impressions he used to do that had the most dead-on physical timing and doodles he would make that made us both collapse with laughter. There’s times when I’m so angry at him for leaving us way too soon. Times when I’m exhausted from crying and feel I can’t possibly cry anymore, but more tears come. Grief is a cruel beast and it will be quite some time until it fully sinks in that Dave is gone. So I’ll end this with a note to him.
I don’t want to be writing this. I want to pick up the phone and ask if you want to make some food and watch some crappy WWII movie we could make fun of. This hurts so much and I fucking hate that you’re gone, Dave. There was no one else like you, and there never will be.
Knowing that I’m never going to walk into your place again and barely have set my bag down before you’ve yanked me across the room to eagerly show me a new bike part or new bonsai tree or beer you’ve been brewing and excitedly explain each one in ludicrous detail-
Knowing that I’m never going to draw with you and watch you create your beautiful artwork- that I’m never going to see that wide, mischievous, freckled grin of yours.
That I’m never going to hear you call me “Ash” again.
Or be lifted off the ground in one of your bone-crushing hugs.
It’s a pain so unbearable and a hole in my heart so big, only someone who lived and loved as large as you did could fill it. There will never be another Dave Creek and I will be grateful everyday that I knew you, thankful that you brought your vibrance into my life, and inspired me in more ways I can count. I love you so much, dude. You will always be with me, living in a beautiful little treehouse in my heart.
PS. If you don’t haunt me I’m going to be so PISSED OFF and wail on you in the afterlife.
