So sorry to read about this. Alan became an amazing, talented fine artist. I lost track of him after I left South Africa to return to the United States. His mother was the bookeeper at my father's synagogue in Durban and I remember Alan had a younger sister, Ingrid. Hope his surviving family is doing OK.
John Murray (class of 1968) reported that Alan died on 1 May 2009. He was Professor of Fine Arts at Wits. John lived a street away from Alan during his DHS years. John provided a link to the following obituary:
Crump, Alan (1949-2009)
At the age of 30, in 1980, Professor Alan Crump was one of the youngest professors ever appointed by Wits University. Crump died on 1 May 2009, aged 60. As Professor of Fine Arts, he championed the development of the Wits Fine Arts department to rival the best in the country. He believed his staff should be practising artists and recruited young and promising talent to augment the expertise of Robert Hodgins and Neels Coetzee. Born 28 April 1949 in Durban, Crump held bachelor and masters degrees from Michaelis School of Fine Art at the University of Cape Town. He was a Fulbright Scholar at the Department of Visual Arts of the University of Los Angeles and attended the New York School University. He returned to South Africa to lecture art history at UNISA before joining Wits. With his exceptional eye for emerging talent and a reputation for not suffering fools, Crump nurtured students to fulfil their creative capacity. An accomplished artist and curator of contemporary and African art, Crump was involved with the Cape Town and Johannesburg Triennales and chaired the Grahamstown Festival committee for a decade. In 1990 he was made honorary director of the Wits University Art Galleries and the Standard Bank African art collection at Wits. More recently, he curated exhibitions of historical European artists Joan Miro and Marc Chagall at the Standard Bank Gallery. A legendary convivial host and guest, Crump loved a great story and a stimulating debate about art, politics or sport. He was an avid student rugby player and athlete, and a consummate pianist. Fearless and driven in his vision for art, Crump once said, When someone dies, it is what they leave behind that counts, the objects and the residue of their thoughts.
I have really fond and most rich memories of Alan. However ...... In the school years he had a strong bullying streak. He used to bully me often, doing such things as flicking my ear from behind, pulling my hair, coming up silently behind me when I happened to be standing with all my weight on one leg leanging against a door, or something and knocking my leg from behind, ... you get the picture. On the one occasion when we were sitting next to each other in class behind a long desk he punched me, as usual not based on any provocation from me. Without thinking I took a big swing at him an punched him at the side of his chest on his ribs. This was the first time I had ever physically fought back. The force of my blow pushed him away from me and he caught his legs against the upright of the table leg and he fell backwards onto his head/back on the floor. I remember very clearly the though that went throgh my mind in the moment this happened ... 'This is the end, I'm a gonner'. To my utter amazement he got up and said (these are his exact words) 'Do you want to wear my blazer?' He had honours rugby and I hovered between the 6th and 7th teams. My immediate response was 'Yes'. For the rest of the day I walked around school with an honours rugby blazer on. I had stood up to a bully and in so doing gained his immediate respect. Well we became good friends after that and I often went to his house for our regular 'high brow' discussions. We could spend many hours (eg 3 - 5 hours at a stretch) discussing various philosophers works, the meaning of art, the relation between art and society, concepts like justice and equalty etc etc. They were great exchanges and if you knew Alan even a bit you could appreciate how intense they were. One occasion I recall very well. I was at his house one morning and we had been having one of our regular intense sessions when his mother called out that it was lunch time. Me, like the polite young guy that I was quickly came to the dining area. However Alan kept pacing between his bedroom and the lounge, there and back, there an back, like a caged lion. I recall his mother's calls 'Alan dear, lunch is ready' many of which had no effect at all, he kept pacing. Eventually he came through to the eating area. I was sitting down at the dining table and so was his mother. He stood behind the chair next to mine staring down at the table and the food on it. To my amazement he lent over the chair, picked up a sharp pointed cutting knife and with a piercing SCREAM which could maybe have been heard in the next door house he lent over the chair and stabbed a tomato on the wodden board in the middle of the table on which it was quietly minding its own business. He then swung one leg over the upright back of the chair and sat down next to me. The knife of course had gone into the wooden board and he had trouble pulling it out. After this incredible episode the three of us then proceeded to have a peaceful lunch. My take on Alan was that he had a burning, flaming, searing rage inside of him, not angre I dont think, but something else, which I dont even begin to understand. Our friendship continuted when he went off to UCT but over the years faded. I found him to be most generous. On one occasion he gave me a lino cut which he called 'Orgaism', which unfortunately got lost in our move from SA to Ireland in 2001. I recall it most clearly ... a front view of a woman with her legs wide, very wide apart, her vagina staring directly at the viewer, all done in a frenetic, 'in your face' style which very clearly shouted out the title of the work, the big O. I dont mean any of the above to shape a negative picture of Alan, quiite the reverse in fact. He was a really unique, interesting, creative, exploratory, wonderful person, with nuanced shades of character which one very seldom, if ever come across. I write this as my small effort to paying homage to a truely amazing,outstanding human being.
Richard Dent, who has not registered on our site as he doesn't have internet access, provided me with the Sunday Times obituary for Alan Crump which you can view by clicking hereand here.
I appreciated the obituary survey of Alan's life. One of my sisters in Durban relayed the info. just after he died and it was sad news. He lived, played, and continued to work with intensely. I appreciated the long and insightful description of your friendship, Bruce. I appreciated his friendship through school years as well. We were often together because of rugby, and my parents regularly sat with his Mom when we had home games. I recall my Mother relaying the following. Towards to end of a tight game against Maritzburg College, and with the score 6-3 in their favour, I was given the ball after a College infringement, and lined up for a kick at the posts. Alan's Mom turned to mine and said, "If ever there was a time to pray, it is now!" I appreciated being in art classes with Alan as well, and am delighted at his success in following his dreams in that field. I am saddened by his absence.
Mordecai Miller
So sorry to read about this. Alan became an amazing, talented fine artist. I lost track of him after I left South Africa to return to the United States. His mother was the bookeeper at my father's synagogue in Durban and I remember Alan had a younger sister, Ingrid. Hope his surviving family is doing OK.
May Alan's memory be a blessing.
Cedric Parker
John Murray (class of 1968) reported that Alan died on 1 May 2009. He was Professor of Fine Arts at Wits. John lived a street away from Alan during his DHS years. John provided a link to the following obituary:
Crump, Alan (1949-2009)
At the age of 30, in 1980, Professor Alan Crump was one of the youngest professors ever appointed by Wits University. Crump died on 1 May 2009, aged 60. As Professor of Fine Arts, he championed the development of the Wits Fine Arts department to rival the best in the country. He believed his staff should be practising artists and recruited young and promising talent to augment the expertise of Robert Hodgins and Neels Coetzee. Born 28 April 1949 in Durban, Crump held bachelor and masters degrees from Michaelis School of Fine Art at the University of Cape Town. He was a Fulbright Scholar at the Department of Visual Arts of the University of Los Angeles and attended the New York School University. He returned to South Africa to lecture art history at UNISA before joining Wits. With his exceptional eye for emerging talent and a reputation for not suffering fools, Crump nurtured students to fulfil their creative capacity. An accomplished artist and curator of contemporary and African art, Crump was involved with the Cape Town and Johannesburg Triennales and chaired the Grahamstown Festival committee for a decade. In 1990 he was made honorary director of the Wits University Art Galleries and the Standard Bank African art collection at Wits. More recently, he curated exhibitions of historical European artists Joan Miro and Marc Chagall at the Standard Bank Gallery. A legendary convivial host and guest, Crump loved a great story and a stimulating debate about art, politics or sport. He was an avid student rugby player and athlete, and a consummate pianist. Fearless and driven in his vision for art, Crump once said, When someone dies, it is what they leave behind that counts, the objects and the residue of their thoughts.
Bruce McCormack
I have really fond and most rich memories of Alan. However ...... In the school years he had a strong bullying streak. He used to bully me often, doing such things as flicking my ear from behind, pulling my hair, coming up silently behind me when I happened to be standing with all my weight on one leg leanging against a door, or something and knocking my leg from behind, ... you get the picture. On the one occasion when we were sitting next to each other in class behind a long desk he punched me, as usual not based on any provocation from me. Without thinking I took a big swing at him an punched him at the side of his chest on his ribs. This was the first time I had ever physically fought back. The force of my blow pushed him away from me and he caught his legs against the upright of the table leg and he fell backwards onto his head/back on the floor. I remember very clearly the though that went throgh my mind in the moment this happened ... 'This is the end, I'm a gonner'. To my utter amazement he got up and said (these are his exact words) 'Do you want to wear my blazer?' He had honours rugby and I hovered between the 6th and 7th teams. My immediate response was 'Yes'. For the rest of the day I walked around school with an honours rugby blazer on. I had stood up to a bully and in so doing gained his immediate respect. Well we became good friends after that and I often went to his house for our regular 'high brow' discussions. We could spend many hours (eg 3 - 5 hours at a stretch) discussing various philosophers works, the meaning of art, the relation between art and society, concepts like justice and equalty etc etc. They were great exchanges and if you knew Alan even a bit you could appreciate how intense they were. One occasion I recall very well. I was at his house one morning and we had been having one of our regular intense sessions when his mother called out that it was lunch time. Me, like the polite young guy that I was quickly came to the dining area. However Alan kept pacing between his bedroom and the lounge, there and back, there an back, like a caged lion. I recall his mother's calls 'Alan dear, lunch is ready' many of which had no effect at all, he kept pacing. Eventually he came through to the eating area. I was sitting down at the dining table and so was his mother. He stood behind the chair next to mine staring down at the table and the food on it. To my amazement he lent over the chair, picked up a sharp pointed cutting knife and with a piercing SCREAM which could maybe have been heard in the next door house he lent over the chair and stabbed a tomato on the wodden board in the middle of the table on which it was quietly minding its own business. He then swung one leg over the upright back of the chair and sat down next to me. The knife of course had gone into the wooden board and he had trouble pulling it out. After this incredible episode the three of us then proceeded to have a peaceful lunch. My take on Alan was that he had a burning, flaming, searing rage inside of him, not angre I dont think, but something else, which I dont even begin to understand. Our friendship continuted when he went off to UCT but over the years faded. I found him to be most generous. On one occasion he gave me a lino cut which he called 'Orgaism', which unfortunately got lost in our move from SA to Ireland in 2001. I recall it most clearly ... a front view of a woman with her legs wide, very wide apart, her vagina staring directly at the viewer, all done in a frenetic, 'in your face' style which very clearly shouted out the title of the work, the big O. I dont mean any of the above to shape a negative picture of Alan, quiite the reverse in fact. He was a really unique, interesting, creative, exploratory, wonderful person, with nuanced shades of character which one very seldom, if ever come across. I write this as my small effort to paying homage to a truely amazing,outstanding human being.
Cedric Parker
Richard Dent, who has not registered on our site as he doesn't have internet access, provided me with the Sunday Times obituary for Alan Crump which you can view by clicking here and here.
Jonnie Dawn
I appreciated the obituary survey of Alan's life. One of my sisters in Durban relayed the info. just after he died and it was sad news. He lived, played, and continued to work with intensely. I appreciated the long and insightful description of your friendship, Bruce. I appreciated his friendship through school years as well. We were often together because of rugby, and my parents regularly sat with his Mom when we had home games. I recall my Mother relaying the following. Towards to end of a tight game against Maritzburg College, and with the score 6-3 in their favour, I was given the ball after a College infringement, and lined up for a kick at the posts. Alan's Mom turned to mine and said, "If ever there was a time to pray, it is now!" I appreciated being in art classes with Alan as well, and am delighted at his success in following his dreams in that field. I am saddened by his absence.