David Wayne Spencer

1948 - 2024

David Wayne Spencer

February 11, 1948 - November 13, 2024

David was many things to many people.

Traveler. Bibliophile. Poet. Artist. Philosopher. Jester. Empath. Wanderer. Warrior. Adventurer. Visionary. Intellect. Eccentric. Dreamer. Mystic. Friend.

Trying to describe him is like trying to paint a sunrise or sunset. Colorful, layered, quixotic, liminal, and always an invitation. (Whether you were ready or not.).

Abuzz in the ineffable, reading and speaking between the lines was his thing. So was writing in symbols. (Decoder not included!). Whether in hieroglyphics--as witnessed in his handwritten notes, Holter Museum of Art newsletters, e-mails, social media posts, or in conversation at one his many local haunts--David's love and enthusiasm for sharing discoveries from one of the latest and "greatest books he has ever read" was legendary.

"Look what I just came across! (Beaming with joy). Have you seen this? Oh, I must show you the synchronicities!" (His hands already reaching for the source of his inspiration).

And there you were (if you allowed yourself)--5-minutes in, or more often than not, 45+minutes deep--smack in the middle of the aura of David's inner world. A world that was at once both grounded, familiar, and ambiguously precise...and, equally, a whirling dervish of connections, majestic tangents, and winding roads that led nowhere, somewhere, and everywhere all at once.

'Tis/'twas the nature of David's symphony. A Fall of changing colors. A vibrant Spring of blue.

An encounter with David was like a "golgothic" journey into the portals of his soul. A trip through the Alcazar. With some doors wide-open. Others slightly cracked. And a small handful closed, not because they're off-limits but because they required the right set of keys. And even then, beneath those thresholds, a warm light always spilled out. ("Won't you join me on this adventure? Have a sit. It will blow your mind!").

David was, as so many knew, one-of-a-kind. A non-linear chap that could never quite be situated in time or place. At times, he was hovering over ancient ruins in Egypt, circulating amongst gods and ideas. Other times he was walking the Himalayas, taking in the nightlife of Paris, communing with authors of yesteryear, or sitting in a concert hall in Vienna being wowed by Jimmy Hendrix. David was a traveler in countless ways. But always, at least for the last 37 years, he was here. In Helena. Day in and day out. A beloved institution of these streets.

Every place has people that, for various reasons, become part of its heart and soul. Figures that take on more than their humanly selves. That are both alchemists and alchemy. David was one of these.

If ever an iconic t-shirt were to be made of him, it would portray a shapeshifting figure toting around mounds of books in tattered bags, one on each side to balance out his long and determined strides.

And, on the back (if one were so inclined), a walking map of his neighborhood spots (his very own Queen City 'Camino de Santiago') - Aunt Bonnie's, The Gold Bar, Hawthorn, Ten Mile, The Myrna, The Hub, Blackfoot, The Fire Tower, The Holter, The Civic Center, Lewis and Clark Library, and the numerous trails that weave their way in and out of Helena's hillsides.

But, of course, even this rendering would fall short, offering only a glimpse into the complexity of his magnificent, unique, absurd, intense, playful, serious, bewildering, attuned, heart-driven, and delightfully quirky terrain.

There are simply not enough t-shirts.

But then again how could there be? Capturing the essence of any individual is difficult, if not impossible. But even more so when you're a mystic.

To witness the prism of light that David is was precious. To be part of his tapestry and he ours, a gift. These are the things that life is made of. These threads of beauty that bring magic to life in the most palpable of ways.

That connect souls.

That make community.

That keep the pages turning.

(To all the lives you have touched, dear David. Your candle still burns.).

VITALS.

- Born February 11th 1948, in Twin Falls, ID to Charlotte Berkeley Nelson and Albert Cecil Spencer.

- Brother John Cecil Spencer (1942-1996). Survived by sister-in-law Barbara Spencer and nephews, Brad Spencer in Spokane, WA and Brian Spencer in Ogden, UT.

- Attended University of Oregon. Dropped out of college in 1968-ish, bound for Europe, and enrolled shortly thereafter in the Institute of European Studies at the University of Vienna, Austria. Spent the next nine years traveling through Europe as a "scholar gypsy." While there, connected deeply with his Celtic mystic roots and beyond.

- Married Jacqueline Stella Mercenier in 1977.

- After returning from Vienna lived in Golden Age Mine (a mountain commune outside of Twin Falls, ID) with Jacqueline from 1979-1981, then moved to Twin Falls.

- Served as librarian in Twin Falls from roughly 1981-1985. Drove for a mobile book library (presumably during his time as librarian).

- Moved to Marysville, MT in 1985 with Jacqueline. Divorced in 1987 and moved to Helena, MT.

- Volunteered for Holter Museum of Art in 1989 and became an employee soon thereafter. Served as the Holter store assistant, greeter, newsletter contributor, and Holter Historian until the time of his death in 2024.

- House sitter, pet sitter, and snow shoveler extraordinaire.

- Not overly concerned with time or space. Lover of books, cats ("meow" from Kokopelli), the arts, and all things beautiful. A local legend. Beloved soul.

CELEBRATION OF LIFE AND BOOKSTORE.

A celebration of life will be held on December 20th from 3 p.m.-6 p.m. at the Holter Museum of Art located at 12 E. Lawrence Street, Helena MT 59601, followed by a bookstore exhibition with items from David's personal collection during the month of February. For more information, visit www.holtermuseum.org or contact Marisa Diaz-Waian at marisa@merlinccc.org.