Visiting Kurt's memorial was the main reason I came to Seattle. I found many other things to spend time on, but this was the centrepiece. I took the bus here and walked through the quiet, expensive neighbourhood to the green space and descended the stone stairs to the lower level of the park (there are two levels, the more visited lower level, and the quieter upper level, reachable by the stairs or by the dirt path).
It was very moving and amusing and fascinating to see the messages left by those who visited before me on the four benches in the park. Loving messages, and angry ones, and funny ones, and sad ones. Little drawings and stickers and quotations and lyrics that mean a lot to someone. Flowers, candles, cigarettes smoked for Kurt. All the evidence of the impact he made, and makes, in people's lives with his band and his music, music that expresses so much of what's hard to articulate and to own up to.
He said it himself: "The feeling and the vibes that we're giving out I think has a lot of compassion and emotion. And I would consider that soft and romantic. Even though it seems negative and hateful."
Nirvana's music was and is a powerful outlet for "dangerous" feelings that many people share, but find difficult to express. Empathy doesn't have to be hand-holding and hugs and sweet words. Empathy can be screaming and breaking things and saying what no one else has the guts to say, and doing it in front of the world: making yourself into an outlet valve for the collective pain of humanity.
It's not glamorous. It didn't end well. All the sickness of Seattle, collectively - their opiate addictions, their suicidal depression, their homelessness, their passive-aggressiveness and social awkwardness - all collected like drops of rain in Kurt's wide-open soul and weighed him down so much he collapsed in on himself. He had his own pain to deal with and humans can only take so much. To paraphrase the Kinks, "He should have been made of iron or steel, but he was only made of flesh and blood."
And yet, somehow, despite, or rather because of, everything he was going through internally, Kurt managed pretty often to be a kind and empathetic human being. Which is why so many people go out of their way to visit this little secluded corner of reality to pay their respects: because he paid some respect to us.
"If any of you in any way hate homosexuals, people of different color, or women, please do this one favor for us -- leave us the fuck alone! Don't come to our shows and don't buy our records."
There is much to learn here for anyone who wants to be remembered, and remembered well, after they are gone. It makes me sad that the city of Seattle is too snobby and cheap to commission a proper memorial statue to place in the park, where fans can direct their tributes. A few wooden benches, appropriated for the purpose, are not an adequate memorial for one of us who contributed so much. I saw a rather nice DIY mural of Kurt in the city while I was there, soon to be erased, and a lovely private one, in a shop. Why not commission a proper public one? Liverpool has fully embraced its Beatletude, and I think Seattle needs to fully embrace the Nirvanafication that has happened to it. Stop resisting.
I think the park is an ideal site for a real memorial, as it has a peaceful, quiet, yet powerful energy, generated by the enormous trees who live there, and by the nearby presence of a large body of water. Kurt died just a short distance away, but the place feels much more alive and in motion than that reality would suggest, due to the constant influx of people who come to that very spot out of love.
Viretta Park is well worth a visit if you give a damn. I do. read more