Meet Austyn: VIP Donor, Tattoo-Enthusiast, and Brother on a Mission
- Kristin Fiorvanti
- Oct 9
- 7 min read
A few nights ago, after I saw a generous panel donation come through, I knew I had to give Austyn a call. Given what I knew we had to catch up on since we last spoke, I hadn’t expected to be left speechless—or laughing.
Austyn’s contribution to the campaign was significant: a full panel. But what really struck me was what followed. That call turned into one of the most heartfelt, hilarious, and healing conversations I’ve had in a long time. It reminded me why this project means so much—not just to me, but to all of us who’ve loved, lost, and laughed through it anyway.
Austyn with his sister, Lex, through the years leading up to her cancer diagnosis.
A Tattoo Story That Spans Siblings
Years back, Austyn asked me to design a tattoo for him in honor of his sister. We talked through it, refined the design, and I sat right beside him when he got it inked. It was a quiet, meaningful moment that stuck with me.
Just a year earlier, I had plans to get a matching tattoo with my brother Dustin— I was to get “My Brother’s Keeper,” and he "My Sister's Protector." It became my first tattoo, just weeks after his passing — set out to be a testament of our connection, but tragically became one of remembrance.
That’s why Austyn’s tattoo means more to me than just ink. It’s a continuation of something I never got to finish.
“I wanted to get the tattoo because I watched her go through something I couldn’t imagine,” Austyn said. “Lex was 17 when she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. She had to finish high school while doing rounds of chemo and radiation. I felt so helpless. That tattoo was a way to say, ‘You’re not alone.’”
Enter: Larry the Lobster
Austyn still laughs when he remembers the time, as kids, he tossed his little sister Lex down the stairs (gently enough, he insists) — and instead of crying or tattling, she popped back up with a grin and said, “Do it again!”
That moment captures so much of Lex’s spirit: fearless, tough, and surprisingly game for the ride.
So when it came time to nickname the fiery red tumor showing up on her scans during chemo, it only made sense to channel that same mischief and grit. Inspired by her flushed cheeks and the tumor’s glowing hue, Austyn called it Larry — as in Larry the Lobster from SpongeBob. Because of course he did. It’s the kind of humor that only siblings can get away with. The kind that turns pain into punchlines, so you can keep going.
I couldn’t help but smile. It reminded me of my relationship with Dustin—the inside jokes, the sideways love, the way we handled the unhandleable.
Austyn said that although they made "friends" with her tumor, the shock of seeing his sister so weakened was still prevalent. Nearly 10 years later, it still takes a toll on Lex. Her weakened immune system still affects her abilities, but if she has taken any page from her brother's book, I can only assume she must be continuing forward with courage and action.
I came to know Austyn's testimony intimately over the next few years around the time of her diagnosis. We attended the same youth group at church and several student ministry trips, where we found community and solace in sharing our burdens with others. Austyn has overcome a lot, from addiction to PTSD, but he says the strength of those in his family, like Lex and his mother, who raised her children alone, encouraged him to keep going. I think his next quote in lieu of his gracious donation sums up what we all learn in the urgency of being faced with grief or challenge:
"You are not the sum of your circumstance. You're the sum of your actions."
I tell my budding art students all the time that you learn by doing. If you tell yourself you can't do something, or that you're not good at something, you can always finish that negative thought off with "yet." (I learned that one from Mark Toorock, CEO of American Parkour). And if not, there’s a community of people, like you, who can help.
"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have." - Lex
Austyn was adamant that his sister's triumphant story saved his life from the darkest times, encouraging him to embrace challenge when he felt like giving up. Now, after parting ways with the US Army, he's got a pretty triumphant story of his own, and his sister Lex is helping out with the charitable initiative.
🎮 Streaming on Twitch, Austyn is building community with other veterans and finding ways to support people who’ve been through hell and back. Lex supports him even from afar while in Massachusetts. Together via Twitch streaming, they've partnered with Regiment, an org that provides games and mental health support to veterans. Check out this video about how it has impacted our veterans nearby in Moundsville, West Virginia. Sometimes it takes charity and play to bring people together to heal.
Same Austyn: easygoing, thoughtful, funny as hell. As old friends do, we made sure to catch up on small talk and life updates. We reminisced on times when him nor I were tatted at all, and laughed at the stark differences in our character. Then, of course, as the art of tattoo does, we reminisced about pain, trauma, and made it into a beautiful piece of conversation. He said,
“We’ve both been through some sh*t, but you’re doing good work. This campaign… it’s real.”
And I believe him.
One Panel, One Phone Call, One Ripple
Austyn’s full panel donation wasn’t just a financial gift—it was a moment of solidarity. That call afterward? It reminded me how much community can grow from just one gesture. One laugh. One story shared at the right time.
This campaign started with skateboards and memories. But it's evolving into something bigger—something stitched together by generosity, sibling love, tattoos, red scan jokes, and the kind of grief that doesn’t erase joy.
Austyn, thank you for the panel. Thank you for the call. And thank you for reminding me that ripples, when shared, become waves.
See here my tattoo fresh, then later that year after being awarded the Ann Currie Scholarship for the arts, and again healed several years later at my first solo show in San Giorgio di Pesaro, Italy.
From Panels to Bronze: Honoring Mogley
Thanks to your incredible generosity, we reached our initial goal in just 24 hours. I’m still processing that. But the story doesn’t end there.
Now, we're riding that wave toward a new chapter: honoring my brother Dustin “Mogley” Moore with the headstone he has waited nearly a decade for. Dustin was more than a skater—he was a friend, a brother, and a fighter who lost his life to addiction in 2016.
With your help, I hope to make his memorial as meaningful as his life. I’m currently working with a local potter, Tony Puglisi, to create a clay proof-of-concept for a bronze casting. This process is deeply personal—it blends sculpture, symbolism, and remembrance—and I hope it will one day become a teaching moment in my classroom, where I can show students how art, grief, and purpose can coexist.
Every additional donation now supports that vision. Even small contributions like a share on social media help us shape something permanent.
🌟 Updated Donor Tiers
Friend of the Park ($25)
Your name listed on our campaign thank-you blog post
A digital thank-you card featuring a detail from one of the donated panels
Keeper of Memory ($50)
All of the above
Access to behind-the-scenes photos of the clay headstone prototype
Bronze Builder ($100)
All of the above
Your name etched into a commemorative donor page on my website dedicated to the headstone project
Guardian of Legacy ($250)
All of the above
A signed 5x7 art print inspired by the panels and the headstone concept
Skate for Mogley Champion ($500+)
All of the above
An invitation to a private online Q&A where I’ll share the process of designing the bronze headstone and answer questions about art, memory, and legacy
Check out these photos from one of my proudest moments: the debut of MOGLEY: Our Jungle Book Story at SCENA cinemas in the heart of Rome!
Why Bronze — and Why Storytelling Matters
Some have asked why I’m pursuing a bronze-cast headstone instead of a traditional granite one. The truth is — the cost is remarkably similar. Both options typically fall within the same price range, depending on size and craftsmanship.
But just as tattoos resonate with deeper meaning and commitment, bronze cast sculptures offer something more: storytelling, symbolism, and permanence. It allows me to create something deeply personal, rooted in both my grief and my practice as an artist and educator.
This isn’t just about honoring my brother — it’s about beginning a wider conversation.
Your donations will also help share his story more broadly through my award-winning short documentary, MOGLEY: Our Jungle Book Story, which has already screened at festivals in Rome, Winchester, Blacksburg, and Morgantown. At the skate park opening, I’ll be handing out QR codes linking to the film, inviting families — especially those with young children — to reflect on addiction, recovery, and resilience together.
If successful, I hope to expand this work into a memorial arts initiative, offering custom headstones and visual storytelling for other families navigating loss.
This campaign isn’t just about funding a monument. It’s about building community, spreading awareness, and creating tools for healing.
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