In early 1973 a man named George Klauber, who had been one of my professors at Pratt Institute, gave me an audio tape he thought might interest me.  At the time I was beginning work on a theatre piece called The Life and Times of Joseph Stalin. . . . I was fascinated.  The tape was entitled 'Emily Likes the TV.'  On it a young man's voice spoke continuously creating repetitions and variations on phrases about Emily watching the TV.  I began to realize that the words flowed to a patterned rhythm whose logic was self-supporting.  It was a piece coded much like music.  Like a cantata or fugue it worked with conjugations of thoughts repeated in variations; these governed by classical constructions and a pervasive sense of humor.  The effect was at once inspiring and charming.  I was impressed and called George to ask who had made the tape. . . . It was arranged that Chris could come and live with me.  We became collaborators and friends.  He co-authored a show called A Letter for Queen Victoria and performed it throughout Europe and New York.  In subsequent years we continued to work together.  Chris would co-author pieces and his texts would appear in works such as the opera Einstein on the Beach… I am forever fascinated by the decisions Chris is able to make while maintaining control over a continuous and elegant line.  He has a unique ability to create a language that's immediately discernable.  Yet once he has invented his verbal or visual language, he destroys the code to begin anew.  His art holds the excitement of molecular reaction.  His product is constantly genuine and always a reflection of his own imagination, humor and good will.