Terry McDaniel videos of individual expressions at the memorial service.

A song by Anita White

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Voyageur

by Otis Ouray Anderson

Click here to view the embedded video.

Loren’s poem DOGS

recited by Bruce Blacher

Click here to view the embedded video.

Because the World is Round

sung by Doug Cain

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Cremation of Sam McGee.

A shadow puppet rendition by Rich Wilson and George Meyer

Click here to view the embedded video.

by Terry McDaniel.

I made a little video with parts from the Memorial for Loren. I thought what the family said was very powerful and the whole memorial was amazing.

Click here to view the embedded video.

by David Roy

Loren always had the time to talk to a friend or to make a new friend. He was kind to everyone, full of knowledge, helpful, and had many talents and friends. I always liked seeing what his current fashion would be and wished that I had the courage to wear fun things like he did! I wonder what he is wearing now……….thanks for the memories Loren!

Loren Kellen Photo Gallery by David Roy:

[View with PicLens]

by Peter Henry

Seven hundred moons in Loren’s eyes,
Ten thousand years, one hundred ways wise.

Yellow Medicine County and the Kellen farm bore this bearded child,
A maker of masks, master of dances–archetypical man-wild.

A farmer’s son, who rose to work and learned his lessons in the yard,
Blades were sharp, days too long and truly labor hard.

To his grandma’s place for a Sunday dinner came Loren hat in hand,
Folded linens, the scent of home and always vegetables canned.

But not for farming was Loren’s life, just fields and pigs and grain,
It was to city folk he awoke his genius for living again.

To Bloomington he had come bearing burdens heavy,
Looking for love, seeking the dove, and driving a ’56 Chevy.

Loren’s mind understood engines, the pistons, valves and rotors
He’d doted on tractors, been with turbines, even made love to motors.

His country was proud that he was endowed with skills that others had not.
So, they sent him to Asia to work on the bombers that all our taxes had bought.

After ‘Nam, the shop-man called seeking both tool and dye.
Loren complied, he never lied, sure he’d give that a try.

And to this credit, he never let it, hold or tackle him there.
From farm to shop, ‘Nam to mop, Loren had scarcely a care.

See, Loren’s path is ancient road travelled for thousands of years,
By seekers and artists, witches and mystics, shamans and all kinds of seers.

His spirit, like clouds at night, shapes and evolves in the wind,
Comes to life in human form with chance and energy twinned.

Dust from stars and crust of caves form Loren’s bones,
Spider’s silk, farmer’s milk and fifty potent hormones.

He’s travelled lands far and wide, visited Kingdom Come,
Fought in wars, slept with whores, been both hero and bum.

Captain and knave, owner and slave, Jew, Catholic and Daoist.
Winner and failer, criminal and jailer, Nome, Pagan and Maoist.

Loren’s face is only a mask hiding the realm of spirit,
His beard a trick, body a bluff, the smell—a fraud to be near it!

See how his eyes twinkle and shift, dart, sparkle and gaze.
Look at his hands, rugged and thick, their work designed to amaze.

This man is too much, a world of his own, a sum of infinite parts,
Feathers of birds, fragments of words, fires, jewelry and hearts.

Where was he made this prince of the hour, come from beyond the stars?
Was it a chance, seat of the pants, work of the Man from Mars?

We’ll never know, nor can we guess, origins, causes or reasons.
Why we’re here, this life so dear, and onward the changing of seasons.

But, come to him now, look at his mask, see what was kept in his mind,
Struggle with answers, ask other dancers, steal whatever you find.

But love what you do and do what you love as Loren would have you believe.
And when you are done, honor the fun, and laugh as much as you grieve.

Look to the moon, see how she moves, new to half to full.
She never stops, pauses or drops, or waits for others to pull.

Loren’s eyes have looked to these skies for years and ages and aeons,
While roaming the earth with kings and minstrels, sages, fools and peons.

He’s seen the moon shade herself in, change in a regular fashion.
Make the world dark, pretty or stark, flood it with love and with passion.

Now after years, laughter and tears, songs, dirges and verses.
Loren is ready, holding confetti, to hail the legions of hearses.

There is no end or start or stop or reason to dread the worst.
We are this moment, pleasure and master, of all that must have come first.

These moons we’ve seen or must have been tell us to work with Earth,
Fear not death, it’s not final and melts on top of the hearth.

For sixty years and seven hundred moons, Loren held onto this
Building fires, working with pliers and flirting with infinite bliss.

Bless him now and raise a toast for all that he means to us here.
Then leer at the moon, dance with him soon and chug the rest of your beer.

Know it is true, whatever you do, that Loren has been there before.
Toured Paris, dined on the terrace, got drunk and slept on the floor.

So walk on the moon, make a new mask, build a solo canoe.
Dance in parades, win at charades, but never ask yourself who.

Loren it is, Loren it was, Loren ever will be.
Party to this, party to that, part of us, you and me.

Look for him now, put out a call, petition heaven from us,
Would it be weird, that’s him and his beard, riding the back of the bus.

There he goes, let’s follow him close to see if what I say is true.
Loren’s not here a minute ago,– he’s back and younger than you.

Dust from stars and crust of caves form Loren’s bones,
Spider’s silk, farmer’s milk and fifty potent hormones.

He’s travelled lands far and wide, visited Kingdom Come,
Fought in wars, slept with whores, been both hero and bum.

Captain and knave, owner and slave, Jew, Catholic and Daoist.
Winner and failer, criminal and jailer, Nome, Pagan and Maoist.

Now after years, laughter and tears, songs, dirges and verses.
Loren is ready, holding confetti, to hail the legions of hearses.

And tell you this of Loren Kellen, man, spirit and friend:
Every puppet in the world cried to hear of his end.

Seven hundred moons in Loren’s eyes,
Oh, beautiful life, death’s final disguise.

-Peter Henry

-poem by Anita White

Yes, that’s how it was….
…………for Loren…….

Thinking of Loren by Anita White

in the days
that followed
Loren Kellen’s death

the sky
just couldn’t stop crying
and either could we

as we reached
as hard as we could
to hold onto
Loren’s spirit,
which now drifted
high above the Mississippi
going north and south
to his beloved
inlets and streams.

yes, that’s how it was
those days after Loren died.
…..the sky……..
…hugging the earth so close…
and we hugging each other….
circling in a flotilla of canoes
on a lake
just knowing what to do

somehow releasing Loren
in that moment

and yet
holding him close.
Loren’s enormous vision and                 spirit
filling us…….

yes, that’s how it was………

in the upper sky
The Sun King
crossed the Great Heavens
with his flotilla of paddlers,
paddling with oars
crafted by him.
they reach   the
other…………………………shore

where The Tree of Life  opens           its arms wide
to embrace him.

and there we were
one by one
opening the gate
to his shrouded dwelling

passing through his sacred arrangements
of masks, puppets, pieces, dolls, parts, pots,paraphernalia,
this and that
and more.

once you opened the gate
you could feel him there.

and oh, the mournful vigil in his house
with a candle burning
and the stories going round

and  the sky kept crying and crying for Loren
the whole time.

yes, that’s how it was.

as the alchemy of shock
turned to disbelief
remembering the Sun King
the wild guy
the gentle soul
ever creative
and          spontaneous!!

the sky cried and cried
for a long time

as the earth
pulled back into itself

and darkness fell early.

Shalom.
Anita White October, 2009.

-by Mark Safford

Loren was Prometheus as inventor, Sisyphus as performer, Apollo as the bringer of the sun, Lover in the truest sense of the word and a vital energy that this world needs to stay in balance. Loren shared and his swing was a testament to his confidence and ability in life’s pleasures. He was a ready hand at whatever he put his energies to, and those energies were significant. An active force of reuse and reanimation Loren was a collector collaborator and creator of quality moments in life. Dancing with Otis Ouray on fiery blacktop. Brilliant rough hewn flamingos speak to both his artistry and his capacity for love of life. Always an adventurer, navigating rivers, or Lake street on the equinox. He was and is a beautiful incarnation and my head burns with a welling sadness for Lisa and all of those who will miss him. There are few who live life so well.

by Sandy Spieler

Loren!! Honor and Love to you as you journey into a great mystery!! Thank you for leaving your vibrant influence and indelible mark on so much of the life here at the theatre—exuberant , passionate vision and energy, inventive construction techniques, sweet friendship, generous hard work, instigation of infectious dance and celebration. You are carried in our hearts and hands now. May we illuminated your soul of such vision and energy, somehow, someway. Ah Loren! Can you hear , can you feel our loving now? And our enormous thank you for the years you’ve shared with us!

by Yiscah Bracha

Loren had a date to paddle on Lake Hiawatha, Sunday at sunset. His companions decided to keep the date, and word spread through the community. The ingathering of people and boats was like the early morning gathering at the park building on Powderhorn Lake to set up the Sun Flotilla at the culmination of MayDay. It was like the gathering of people and boats on the last Thursday of March each year, to paddle the Cannon and Mississippi Rivers, from Cannon Falls to Red Wing. And numerous other canoe gatherings.

We greeted with sobs and hugs. Lisa had brought boxes of hats from his enormous collection, and Loren headgear spread into the world. Some had brought canoe mounts he had made. Most everyone wore red, so that every time you saw movement in the corner of your eye, you thought that Loren was there. We laughed, we cried, we launched the boats. A long spread out stream circled the lake, with plaintive tunes from the trombones and trumpets rippling over the water. The boats got closer together the second time we rounded the lake. A blast from a conch shell rang out and the drums responded – the built drums, so like the ones he built, with the skins he got from the tanner in Cosmos, MN. But also using the rims and the sides of the canoes as drums, the way he would use anything that he could beat.

Clusters of boats gathered as the occupants held hands and talked. Then the clusters dispersed and reformed. It had been cloudy and drizzly all day, but just like the miracles that so often happened on MayDay, the sun broke through just as we were about to launch the boats. It was low in the sky by then, streaming through the slim gap between the marbled clouds above and the horizon of newly tinted trees below. By the time the clusters of boats on the lake gathered and dispersed, and gathered and dispersed, a full rainbowed sunset was underway.

Finally, a cluster of all the boats formed in the middle of the lake. Silence. Someone started to sing, others joined in. That song ended, another began. Silence again. Someone tapped a low rumble of a drumbeat, others joined in. Silence again. Many colors of gray and slate, on the water and in the sky. Someone passed a burning cigar of sage, and the pungent aroma enveloped us. Tears. Finally, someone shouted: “Hallelujah Loren!”, and we all shouted, and banged the canoes and drums, and yelled to the sky.

It is exactly the way he wanted it. We will miss him dearly, but he has left so much behind, that elements of his spirit will always remain in the world.

-Yiscah Bracha

See photos from the event here

See a video of this event

A video slideshow tribute to Loren Kellen, featuring various photos of one of Loren’s favorite creations, the Flamingo Bicycle.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvaBuQhsQwQ

-from Maren Ward

Dear Sun crews past and future, You may or may not have heard by now: our beloved Capn Bobber, Loren Kellen, has sailed on to the other world. He had a heart attack in his van on the lake street peace bridge at around 3pm on Friday, Oct. 2nd. He was surely an extraordinary person and to say he will be missed is probably the biggest understatement I’ve ever uttered. peace, Maren”

photo: Eric Altenberg

LOREN KENNETH KELLEN

September 12, 1948 -
October 2, 2009

Circle of Life Celebration

Sunday November 8 2009

5:00 – 7:30 pm

Cedar Cultural Center
416 Cedar Avenue (West Bank) Minneapolis

Friends, family, neighbors and admirers, gather to honor the remarkable life of this remarkable man. Exhibits and slide shows of his life and work will be on display; objects from his astounding collection of artifacts will be given away. Musicians from three traditions he most loved will play (acoustic instruments from the folk dance community, percussion, and brass). Remembrances will be shared through stories, poems, songs, and performance pieces. The evening concludes with a community-prepared meal, more music, and sharing.

Volunteers needed for set up, hosting, and clean up:

Saturday October 31. 9:30 AM – noon. Meet at Loren’s “upper yard” on Pelham Blvd to pack stuff and load into a truck, for unloading at studio @ .5 mile away.

Saturday November 7. 12:00 – 5:00 PM. Giveaway and dumpster load at Loren’s. Help the family and future owner clean out the house and yard. THANKS TO ALL WHO HELPED MAKE THIS AN EXTRAORDINARILY PRODUCTIVE DAY. ANOTHER CLEANUP DATE WILL BE POSTED HERE SOON!

Sunday November 8. 9:30 AM. Unload trucks at Cedar Cultural Center.

Sunday November 8. 2:00 – 4:30 PM. Set up chairs, tables, etc at Cedar Cultural Center.

Sunday November 8. 7:00 – 8:00 PM. Help serve food and keep the food area clean, and give the hospitality organizers a break.

Sunday November 8. 8:00 – 10:00 PM. Clean up the Cedar; leave it better than we found it. Load unclaimed stuff into truck, unload into dumpster at Loren’s house. at studio.

Please use the form below to let us know what you can do, ask questions, etc.

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HELPED!!!!!