The Afterword.

We officially met in November of 1981. My mind flies back to the twenty-four-year-old student at the ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena who was first introduced to David Edward Byrd that summer. I needed to take two one-point classes in order to graduate. I chose Introduction to Electricity, where you basically needed to show up and know not to stick a fork in an electrical outlet to be able to pass. And then there was Introduction to the Poster, where I first saw David’s work. Follies, Jimi Hendrix, and the reopening of Radio City Music Hall, in particular, blew me away.

David’s exuberant color, design, and his unique drawing style grabbed me. It also made me emotionally aware of everything that I was running away from at the time. I was just coming to the realization that I was gay. This fear of exposure made me hold myself back and made me create safe, conservative, uninspired work. The excitement in David’s poster art was what I cried out for but felt I could not express. I remember feeling depressed as I left the class, with graduation a few months away. Now I only have gratitude. Little did I know that I would meet David in time for our first Thanksgiving in 1981.

It was on one of my trips with college friends to Melrose Avenue that we discovered a small neighborhood gay bar that was themed somewhere between unicorns and leather. Melrose was still a mostly sleepy commercial street, except for a few design and clothing stores. I could not stop thinking about that gay bar. After a few weeks I decided to just walk into that gay bar. I did that and immediately ran out, terrified of what I was seeing and feeling. Later that fall on one of my speed walks around the bar, I saw David standing there. I actually sat down for the first time. He was so handsome that I didn’t think that I could ever walk up to him—until he moved his arm, and I noticed that he had a tiny little hole in his beautiful knit sweater. It’s weird how all of a sudden, I saw that hole as making him real and approachable. Now what!? I noticed that David smoked cigarettes, so when someone left a pack on a table, I picked it up, walked up to him, and asked him for a light.

I graduated from the ArtCenter that January. David had just finished his Van Halen tour artwork. He was working as an art director at a small ad agency in Hollywood. After three months we were living together. We drove in from our little house in the suburb of Tujunga with our first dog, Joshua. My new commitment to David included not hiding him in the tub if someone came over. So, out of the closet I came—out as a person in love with a wonderful artist who let me hide him in a tub in the first place and, of course, my soulmate.

I worked as David’s assistant, mostly creating posters for theater. These master-class projects under David’s direction were priceless. I developed and learned to embrace my own personal sense of color and design. In 1985 we became partners in business and life. Our Temple of Dreams poster is one of my favorite collaborations. I also knew by that point that I wasn’t going to be the illustrator I thought I wanted to be.

David’s love, humor, and devotion to living the life of artists together allowed me to explore different mediums. Along with being his assistant or just a fresh eye to look at his art, I painted toys for Mattel and did production art for film and television. My turning point was one summer volunteering at the Watts Towers and cementing broken pieces of tile. I found my voice as an artist, creating public and private pique-assiette mosaics.

I lucked into a rare version of David, who opened up a life of possibilities I couldn’t have imagined. Whatever I achieve as an artist, it will always be second to my relationship with David. I wouldn’t be the artist I am today without these first forty-two years together with my love, mentor, and best friend. The light from that first cigarette continues to burn.

As I write this addendum in 2026 to my afterword for Poster Child, my David has been gone for a year and a half. The last promise I made to David, when he was only able to squeeze my hand, was that I would keep his legacy alive and build a better and more personal website and store. How I would keep that promise was another question. When David died, I didn’t even know how to get into his computer, let alone print posters and keep orders going out.

Enter my dear cousin Lisa, who flew in from Los Angeles. David had hired her to work at Warner Bros., where she became a computer whiz. She took this analog artist who breaks tile for a living and started my education—from a very well-trained monkey who had memorized the steps to print posters to a semi-literate computer jockey. She organized over fifty years of poster art into categories and folders. I had always been quality control and fulfillment, so I had that part down. The rush of seeing so much history wrapped in art was overwhelming, but it gave me a deeper appreciation for the unique brilliance, beauty, and humor that was David—and for how lucky I was to share this life with him. I intensely scanned each poster as it came out of the printer. I saw the work, and David, with a whole new depth. Through Woodstock, the Fillmore East, and New York theater, my Forrest Gump had a hand in creating timeless visuals that documented the times.

David always enjoyed including stories and context with the posters he created, as well as in his autobiography, Poster Child. The Estate of David Edward Byrd web store will continue that tradition and tell his story as a timeline of art history. David was, and now I am, thrilled to interact with younger customers as they discover the music—and with it, the art of those eras. I have accepted that David won’t be in his studio asking for more tea, or when he can have his allowed hit of pot. A hippie to the end. But knowing that his art will continue to be appreciated and out in the world will keep him alive for me, and for future generations to enjoy.

My deepest gratitude to all of the collectors and fans of rock and theater for their generous support and encouragement as I take the helm of David’s vast body of work. I will be transitioning from the pre-signed sheets of paper to an embossing and signature stamp to authenticate that this is the official Estate of David Edward Byrd Store.

This composite photo represents my commitment to continuing a brilliant art legacy, and to living my own life as a mosaic artist again, knowing that David will always have my back. The faith David had in me for 43 years—and what David called our “Love on Acid”—will continue as my second act begins.

Now let’s rock & roll.