Antelope Mask

This delicate watercolor/Chinese ink drawing from 1997 was used for the cover of an anthology of Native American Poetry in Dutch translation Met rode Ink, which was published in 2006 by publisher Ampersand & Tilde. The drawing's name is Antelope Mask. Tony made the drawing after a trip to Hopi, not to imitate the real mask, that would be disrespectful, but honoring the traditions and intentions of the Hopi. He cared deeply about all things Indian.

Plum

Tony's friend Arnold wanted to know who where the people in this drawing called Plum. Well, of course it is Adam and Eve after a long day's work. Eva saw that Adam was doing something that looked interesting, thus she wanted to know what exactly it was. He replied: I am naming things. And he showed her a thing and called it tree, then a thing he named lion... Eva got the message and got a chance to try. She looked around and up and saw the blue expanse and the clouds and said: I name this Plum... Adam didn't agree and said, no, no this is 'sky'. Eva looked at it and said ok, and thought, but in my heart it will always be a plum... Tony loved that joke and would tell it with wide arm mouvements.

Een sprookje

'He and she' is from the same period as the story. The watercolor was done in Antwerp and is part of the Arnold DP collection. Obviously it is a self portrait.

ik kan slechts wenen, want 'er was eens' is
of zo voel ik het, slechts een leeg gegroeide plaats, maar wist je
dat door deze plaats een naamzinger reisde,
naamzinger kan vreemd soort werk zijn om te doen of naam
om bij genoemd te worden, als zij al bestaan!
maar eerst moet ik je vertellen wat een naamzinger is.

zij staan in hun tijd en dromen van
de wind en roepen namen uit van kinderen die zij
hebben gekend, en zelfs namen van hen die
nog tot ons komen op een morgen. “morgen is voor
hen, een donkers elf negenenveertig, geen seconde
min of meer, kan zijn een volmaakt morgen” terwijl
het een volmaakt morgen wordt, en kinderen zijn de reden dat een
naamzinger ademen kan.

op een dag, een naamzinger in zijn plaats, in zijn tijd, zong
een er was eens gebruikte naam, veel gebruikt voor wie nu
geboren werd, of de nog onbekenden, en die voorbijgingen
en genoemd waren liefde. liefde zong hij en de hemel danste, de
aarde groeide. allen bij deze naam genoemd of ieder die
ooit deze naam nabij was of gebruikte, keek naar de toekomst
en glimlachte, herinnerde en glimlachte, of die nu
voelend, voelden en zeiden “ glimlach voor liefde ”. wel zoals
je kan zien, of zoals ik dat zie, is dit de zoetste
naam ooit genoemd door een naamzinger.

liefde zelfs zacht gezegd is nog groots,
uitgeschreeuwd een koestering of zelfs aan gedacht is het
een speciale tijd van toverdenken. maar op een dag
deze die zo zong voelde dat het anders moest, zo voegde
hij aan deze schone liefde een ik toe, en voelde deze
verandering als goed, zo werden allen met de naam ‘liefde’ van
dan af ‘ik liefde’ genoemd. dat leek goed
en allen aanvaarden dit, en dachten niet tot op
een morgen om precies elf negenveertig, wat
ze ook goed vonden ‘de elf negenveertig naam voor
morgen bedoel ik’, behalve een traan, ( ‘traan’ een andere
naam van de naamzinger ) voelde dat het bestaan niet zou mogen zijn
zonder haar ik. zo zei één en ieder die naam te roepen
slechts als ze eerst ik zouden zeggen - ‘ik traan’ onwetend
dat een eenvoudig 'ik' allen een traan zou brengen. de dansende
hemel leerde ‘ik traan’ en traande, de groeiende aarde traande
toen zij een ik toe voegde. en niemand voelde een glimlach en
het gewicht van het ik begon te wegen. en sommigen begonnen te
denken is een ‘ik’ beter, of zong de naamzinger niet een
plaats voor alleen in het toegevoegde ik.
slechts ik, laat het niet anderen weg, zo niet bijna allen
als: wij, kinderen die geboren zullen worden, zij, of hen
nu geboren, zij hoe droef morgen niet een
samen, maar een één afzonderlijk alleen en onmogelijk
van een ander deel te zijn omdat natuurlijk dat
ik niet hen is, zij of welke samenhorige dan ook,
één van de velen.

en hierom voel ik mij droef en in
er was eens nu kan ik slechts wenen en deze
allene plaats vullen want hij noemde mij ik Tony, hoewel
zo vele keren ik zo een wij behoefde - wat nooit
zal zijn tenzij allen en alles die plaats van het ik
van de naamzinger vergeten, en liefde teruggeven zonder eerst
ik en ik niet doen komen voor traan, of welke
van de vele dingen die lijken de voornaam ‘ik’
te nemen. en dan misschien op een elf
negenveertig stipt zal de wind eens temeer
dansen, een dans zijn in de hemel en de aarde
zal groeien en ik word, er was eens, weer
gelukkig.

A story

Tony wrote A story in Antwerp in 1981. The next post will be my Dutch version. The small watercolor drawing The Poet is from December 1981, courtesy of Arnold DP.

I can but cry, for once upon a time is,
or so I feel, only space grown empty, but did you
know through this space traveled a name songer,
name songer may be a strange type of work to do or name
to be called by, even if they do exist!
but first I must tell you what a name songer is.

they stand in their time and dream about
the wind, and call out names of children they
have known, and even names of ones that are
still to come to us on a tomorrow. “ tomorrow is for
them, a darks eleven forty nine, not a second
more or less, can be a perfect tomorrow “ as it
becomes a perfect tomorrow and children are the reason a name songer
can breathe.

one day a name songer in his space, in his time, sang
a time used name, one often used for the now being
born, or the still unknown of, and passed, called love.
love he sang and the sky danced, the earth grew.
all called by this name, or any who had ever
been near or used this name looked to the future
and smiled, remembered and smiled or those now

feeling, felt and said ‘smile for love’. well as
you can see, or as I see it, this is the greatest
name ever created by a name songer.

love even soft said is still grant, if
screamed out, caring, or even thought of is a
special time of magic thinking. but one day
this singing one felt change must be, so he
added to this beauty Love, a I, and felt this
change as good, so all of them named love from
then on were called ‘ I love ‘ . This seemed fine
and all accepted this, and did not think until
one tomorrow at exactly eleven forty nine, which
they also felt fine about, (eleven forty nine’s tomorrow’s
name I mean) but a tear did not. ‘Tear’ (another
songer’s name) felt it should not have to exist without
its I. so told all and everything to call it
only if they said I first - ‘I tear’ not knowing
a simple I would bring to all a tear. the dancing
sky learned “I tear” and teared, the growing earth
teared as it added I. and none felt a smile and
began to feel the weight of the I. and some begin to think
is a I better, or has the name songer not sang a
space for lone in adding I. just I does it not
leave out others, if not almost everything such
as: we children to be born, they, or those
now born, they how sad tomorrow not a
together, but a one single alone and unable
to be part of another because of course this
I is not them, they or any of these belongers,
one of many.

and of this I feel sad and now
once upon a time I can but cry and fill this
alone space for he named me I Tony, though
so many times I so need a we which shall
never be until all and everything forgets this
name songers I space, and returns love without I
first and make I not come before tear, or any
of the many things that seem to have taken
this first name ‘I’. then maybe on a one eleven
forty nine on the point the wind will once again
dance, be a dance in the sky and the earth
shall grow and I shall once upon a time again
happy

Tattoos

On Tony's sixteen birthday he was in the orient on a ship as an able bodied seaman. His shipmates decided he needed to celebrate the day in style; as a consequence he lost his virginity and got a tattoo. A beautiful and delicate Chinese dragon which infected badly, but it healed. Over the years he had small extras added. One of them was written around the dragon: Life is a bowl of blue soup and loving. A short while later he did away with the 'and loving' by having flowers tattooed over it. I am not sure which girlfriend didn't quite fulfill his dreams in 1982. This powerful self portrait is part of his friend the veterinarian Arnold De Paepe's collection with the tittle A België song...

Small harlequin

Since many of you love circuses, harlequins and clowns and since Tony was partial to them too, today's offering is a small (about 8 cm by 10/ 11 cm) harlequin. He seems to embrace the stars and open his arms for all of us. The costume is often a reason for a small abstraction. Enjoy the gentleness... Painted in Chloride in the summer of '93 or '94.

Blue Horse

A few days ago Nicole, a writer friend commented that she liked Tony's Abstract Horse, because it gave her a space to dream and tranquility. So today the Blue Horse should be your delight, sometimes also called the Ghost Horse. It actually isn't a real abstraction, because it is all there: the horse, the landscape, the rider with the spear, the speed of a high chase gallop. I can almost feel th wind when I look at it. Sometimes Tony Mafia would fill his canvasses so that they are overflowing, with just here and there a space to escape. Other times he would strip down a canvas or a drawing to the bare essentials. He was always looking for other means of expressing himself and thus challenging us to try and really look at his work so that we feel and understand it.

Joe's harlequin

I remember a time Tony came home from Europe, Antwerp, Belgium, Paris, the Stent, and maybe that little town that invited Clinton to play his saxophone. He was hungry and tired and really wanted to get back to LA. But first he wanted to spend a few days with us in Las Vegas. In a couple of days he put together a group of drawings and paintings. Then all too soon he was off, he left Las Vegas on a Greyhound bus and headed west. A few days later he returned with a big grin on his face and was driving his brand new red 4wd Samurai. Can you imagine that, spending a couple of hours on the floor doing what you love best (painting) and then trading it for a $10,000.00 vehicle? This was not the first time that I had seen Tony do something like that. I recall another time when I drove him to the Veteran’s Hosp in California so he could have surgery on his eyes. Tony returned the favor by inviting me to visit him and Annmarie in their house in Antwerp. I was broke and couldn’t afford to go so he and Annmarie paid my way. Thanks Annmarie. Another thing that Tony did for me was that he gave me a few paintings. I had found a couple of stretched pieces of canvas and gave them to him thinking he would paint something beautiful and sell it. But instead what he did was to give them back to me, finished pieces of fine art. Here is one is one of those for you to see.
Joe B.



I was always proud to have him as my uncle and happy we became good friends too.

Addendum: Tony liked his nephew too. He admired him as a fisherman. We fished Willow Beach together and Eagle Lake... but they quarreled about who was the best guitar player in the world. And the little town where Adolphe Sax came from is Dinant in the Ardennes...

The world

Sometimes Tony Mafia was baffled by the world. He would look at it with astonishment, questioning.
Look here at the depth of colors in the sky and the little moon in the right hand corner. Also note how the little figures walk on the edge of the earth and the biggest one casting a shadow. So maybe what he was trying to say is that we should leave a nice and friendly shadow in passing through this life and to enjoy being on this planet and not to forget to look at the sunset. Sometimes it eally is like this, at least in Chloride Arizona.

Dead Horse and the Whore's Fair

Dead horses and the Whore's Fair or did he mean fare? It is a large oil on canvas (155 x 130 cm) painted in 1998, shown at Lineart Ghent. Tony Mafia remembered selling a painting with the title 'The Whore's Fair' to a lawyers collective (probably in Los Angeles) who later sold it for a lot of money. He felt it was one of his exceptional paintings.
In the painting shown here themes and techniques join in order to speak out about the state of the world. Every one pays the fare at the whore's fair, one pays to and for power. Dead horses, battles, riders and banners, thunder and lightning while the whore caresses a toy horse. A prostitute and her customer - maybe two lovers? - sleep in the foreground. Dead and destruction while the painter in the right hand corner upholds a small painting full of intimate light. That might just symbolize the usefulness of art.

Pigs and Pyramids

Some of Tony Mafia's work has been used as covers for cd's, tapes or records. He did some posters for musicians he performed with like Derol Adams and Norris Bennett. His drawings have also been used for a few book covers etc... The canvas Pigs and Pyramids became the cover of the second cd by Las Vegas hard rock band 'Private Jones'. It was lead singer, guitarist David Alderson who made the choice. Their first cd was Life on March. Tony had heard them perform in Vegas and liked their 'masculine attitude' ...

Thuis voor mijn gaven

Het is tijd en enkel tijd die de stroom van inkt doet vloeien over dit scheppingsveld, hopend op de oogst van mijn wezen.
Het is enkel tijd die mijn herinnering tot leven brengt. Ik loop nu door de kasseien nacht. Onder mijn arm een portfolio bijna te groot om onder mijn volledig gestrekte arm te passen. Niet enkel buiten groot maar ook binnen de vele kleuren, kleuren van liefde voor geziene schoonheid, en het richting geven van allerhande schepsels maakte het geven van mijn liefhebbend gevoelde beelden. De duisternis van het elfder uur lijkt te versmelten met de zwart verpakte gitaar die zou zingen. Terwijl mijn stem evenwicht gaf aan haar erg liefelijke klank, was klank de richting en magisch licht scheen te zeggen kom laat je schepping van je liefde zien, wij zullen kijken naar je tekenboek en kiezen of verwerpen. Maar desalniettemin kijken naar je bewogen beelden. Kan je de schitterende tonen niet zien bewegen in het samenspel van bevolkte explosies. Daar een hoek rode dansende poppen gewild door een zachte lijn van bijna kind. Neem me, bezit me schreeuwt één van de schitterend oranje rode dansers om slechts overgeslagen te worden wegens te weinig duidelijkheid. Ik keer me naar de volgende liefelijke dame van de nacht. Behuisd door een nachtverlicht café weet ik, hier vind ik mijn betekenis, terwijl meer en meer zacht tekenen verschijnt. Droom vervulde minnaars vastgeklampt, hun ogen bijna ontmoetend. Maar toch in flitsen gevoelde ogenblikken van trachten niet het liefelijks te missen terwijl het snel voorbij gaat. Dit legde ze aan de kant die ze van hen noemden om het te familieëren door hun begrijpen. De franken werden op een rij gelegd. Kon dit ooit gezien worden, zouden zij ooit weten dat enkel liefde werd gekocht.
Hun liefdadig geld was niet wat het door de lijn geschapen begrijpen won dat hij voelde toen zij haar gave ontving van overtuigende passie trillend, roepend, roepend het huis van houten dans zingende snaren roepend om de muziek polsslag van aanvaarding van verhoopte éénheid wijl mijn stem getinte woorden inmengde, zeggend ik ben levend gevoel nu trillend terwijl klank me in een gegeven liefde naar beide voert.
Mijn klanken verstillen mijn zakken vol voedselfranken dank mij gegeven voor iemand die voor de familie zorgt, voor mijn schepping, schepping op dit scheppingsveld van papieren wit. Nu terug naar de nacht op zoek naar klank en magisch licht.

Hoe liefelijk ben je, hoe dierbaar zijn de mensen in de huizen van mijn gaven.

I translated Home for my giving, yesterdays post, in 1995. It is poste here for my friends who prefer to read in Dutch. The drawing on good paper is small, light, with red and oranges that touch one's eyes and heart. These are gifts, we keep looking for a home for. Not this drawing, it belongs to the Hunzinger family.

Home for my giving

These drawing belong also to Carol Levin. The pen and ink drawing would have been typical for selling at night in the bars and also smaller work on paper, since carrying big folders wasn't easy. Tony did write. This is a description of selling drawings in the Quartier Latin and red light district in Antwerp, written in 1975. Tomorrow I'll post the translation in Dutch.

It is time and only time that moves the flow of ink over this creation field, hoping to yield crops of my being.
It is time only that has made live my memories. I am now moving down the cobblestoned night, under my arm a portfolio almost too large to fit under my full stretched arm.
Not only is it outside large also inside is the many colors, colors that love for beauty seen, and all sorts of creations directing has made to give my felt images of caring. The darkness of the hour of eleven seems to melt the black packaged guitar that would sing. As my voice lent balance to its very lovely sound, sound was the direction. Sound and magic lights seemed to say: come show your loves creations, we shall look at your book of drawing and select or reject.
But none the less view your moved tomes, can’t you see the brilliant tones moving in the confirmation of peopled explosions. There a corner of red dancing dolls being
wanted by a soft line that seems to child be. Take me, own me, cries one of the brilliant orange red dancers, only to be passed for lack of definition. Turn to the next a lovely lady of
the night. Housed by the night lighted cafe I know it shall be the one of my meaning, as one and appeared soft drawing. Dreamfilled lovers clinging, their eyes near meeting. But still in fleeting felt moments, trying not to miss lovely as it silently moves by. This they did move to the side called their own to be familied by their understanding. The francs were laid in a row. Could this ever show, would they ever know that it was love alone bought.
And their charity francs was not what won the line created understanding he felt as she received his gift of persuading passion vibrating calling calling for the opening of house of wooden dance singing strings calling for the music to pulse the acceptance of hoped oneness as my voice blended in toned words saying I am alive feeling now reeling as sound takes me in a given loving to the two.
My sounds still my pockets full with food francs thanks that they gave me some one to care for the family, for my creations, creations on this creative field of papered white. Now back to the night in search of sounds and magic light.

How lovely you are, how dear is the people in the homes of my giving.

Buffoon

Since the circus is a recurrent theme, you'll see paintings in this vein once in a while. Here he painted the roogh and tumble buffoon and the quiet and gentle sad clown with a lot on his mind. Tony Mafia liked clowns, till the day someone told him that we laugh at clowns basically because we feel 'better' than them. Art is a bit like that, you exaggerate, aggrandize or miniaturize. You change the perception of reality or try to show at least different sides of it. One day in Postdam, former Eastern Germany, briefly after the Berlin Wall came down, looking at some castle and the artwork it held, he felt good about the fact that the artists being the buffoons of those in power, speaking the truth in their own way, were the ones to outlive the rulers.
This particular painting was done in Chloride, Az in 1996.

Painting in the street

Tony, while being in the air force, was stationed in Southern Germany. On one of his leaves he went to Paris. This was the early fifties and of course he always carried his paints and brushes. He ended up setting up shop on the banks of Seine. He liked to paint with an audience which didn't intimidate him at all. He either ignored them or danced in front of the canvas, doing a little show to entertain them. I don't know what, nor how he painted that day. Along comes a well dressed, rotund gentleman, who watches him for quite a while and a group of onlookers grows. Hear them whisper in French, hear a solemn silence and Tony probably joking in English, or commenting. When the gentleman with cane, goes his way, he turns to Tony and says: If you keep painting you could become a master. The group applauds and then some one asks: 'Do you know whom that was, that was Monsieur Henri Matisse!' He told me the stories several times, wondering why it mattered to him...
I think if you look at Matisse's work that you can see the way the both handled color and were free in the representation of their subject, without being abstract. This Crucifiction is in Harry Kegels' office, a friend and collector of Tony's work. The drawing was shown at Lineart 1998 in Ghent.

Freeing the Children

'Freeing the Children' is a recurrent theme in Tony Mafia's drawings and paintings. He used to say "our works are our children" and they had to move out in the world. He often wrote on his drawings, he also made me write on them. He liked the texts, but I couldn't write quite straight enough and thus I 'screwed up the balance', in his colorful words. Sometimes I would dictate the text, sometimes i wrote on the painting and other times he wrote them himself. In a while I'll post some of his texts, patience. If you click on this drawing, you'll be able to read the co-production of this gentle drawing which was shown at the retrospective in Kasteel Sorghvliedt, Hoboken, Belgium, 2003. Tony was insecure with his writing since he was dyslexic. Here in the texts 'there' probably was meant as 'their'... Although with Tony, one just never knew.

American Girl

With a little help of my kid, the Girl with the Jet black Hair and a Bow in her Hair, the painting Carol Levin loves so dearly, finds her way to the world. See yesterday's post.
Tony did paint several peace paintings in that dreadful period of the Vietnam war and later once in a while something would get to him and then had to paint about it. Tony was a registered democrat and cared about nature and the environment. Since he was a keen fisherman, he spend time in the wilderness and remote spaces. He was also a patriot: every time Tony's British friend and musician Dave Betts showed up, they had to recount the Boston Tea party. "We won", was always the conclusion in his typical Mafia way.

Girl with Flag

Today I am posting Carol Levin's story in her own words, the picture, however, couldn't be posted.

I will tell you a bit now and then send the picture on Sunday with the receipt from the art gallery. It's hard to believe that we paid around $200.00 for it. They gave us a 25% discount.
Well, here's the story. I'm just a suburban housewife from the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. There was the Paul Olson Gallery in Tarzana that I used to haunt because I loved the art that they sold.
We were just getting into buying a bit of art and I had become attracted to the work of this really flamboyant artist who seemed to be spending a great deal of time there acting as a kind of promoter for his own work. He was really friendly and loved to talk art......and, especially his art.
It was 1970 and Tony Mafia..... of course, I told him that he was kidding me with that name..... was very attractive with all of that hair and, of course, he really looked the part of the artist that he was.
One day I came in and zeroed in on this beautiful large painting of a young girl with jet black hair and a large American flag as hair ribbon in her hair like the rebellious hippies of the day. I was absolutely drawn to it with it's vivid colors but, the steep price of $300.00 was more than I could handle.
I would come in again and again sometimes visiting with Tony, who would open drawers and pull out drawings and paintings for my approval. He had a bit of an artist's ego and would admire his work along with me. " That's a damn sensitive drawing." he once said in reaction to something he was showing me.
I found him to be very intriguing but, never knew the colorful life that he had lead.
But, I always returned to the girl with the jet black hair, and it became my ritual to " visit my painting." or, the painting that I couldn't afford.
You may have noticed that my e-mail is aug241957@aol.com. That is my wedding anniversary and August 1970 was the year of my 13th anniversary. My husband Dave wanted to get me something special. Unbeknown to me, he ventured into the Paul Olson Gallery. Surrounded by all of the art work, he was at a loss as to what to buy. He only knew that I spent a great deal of time there.
He described me to Paul Olson who knew me and said that I came in all of the time. Dave wanted to know which paintings I admired.
When he came home with this large completely wrapped picture my heart sunk. I was so upset. How could he have bought a piece of art without my input? Was I going to be cursed with some hideous picture hanging on our wall from now until doomsday? I tried to look happy and when I unwrapped it and saw that the girl with the jet black hair was finally to be mine I was simply overcome.
She has been gazing down upon us these many years and as this is to be our 50th anniversary on August 24th of this year, it just might be time to let her go. Thank you Annmarie for starting this blog. What a great idea. It is very interesting. I never imagined that Tony lived the life that he had.

Out of step

On my long trek back to Europe, I wondered how often Tony Mafia had done this crossing. He arrived in Antwerp for the first time when he was sixteen, seventeen years old. the city was still in post WW II ruins. He was an able bodied seaman at that time and had missed his ship out. It took him half a year to find another ship with the same company. He used his time well, visiting churches and the cathedral, spending time in museums and just be in the city. 'In Antwerp I learned from watching the paintings of Rubens that air has color', he used to say. He loved the gray light that gives depth. Of course by coming and going one becomes estranged at bit of the places one used to belong to. Hence the painting Out of step with the band depicting our unbelonging belonging in both continents. This mixed media work on heavy German etching paper was painted in Hoboken (Antwerp) in 1997. Tony definitely more American and I more European, marching together to or own beat... Clowns on the prowl.

The Garret Coffee House

Terrea Lea was kind enough to let me post her 'witness/friendship' account of Tony. So in her own words:
We opened 'The Garret' in late '58 and were there for 12 years. During that time Tony was there almost every night. He would come in grinning and being very friendly and warm. In fact, I think he broke my mother's ribs. He had been gone for a while and when he came back he was hugging every one and my mother who ran the cash register got up to hug him and he grabbed her and swung her around. He never knew he had hurt her. It was and accident done out of love and he would have felt terrible if he knew he had been a little too exuberant.
Yes, I knew Tony Mafia and was happy to be able to enjoy his work which hung in The Garret for many years. He was indeed a fine artist as well as a great person. We were always glad to have Tony show up to just sit around and talk or have him show us his most recent work. I remember so well when he returned from a few weeks in Mexico with wonderful drawings and paintings of children. He was very much in love with their beautiful brown eyes. I wish I had some of his work to pass on because I'm sure many would enjoy it but for some reason everything I ever had seems to have disappeared. I have moved a couple of times and I guess it was misplaced or passed on to someone else. At any rate I'm sorry I can't send you any pictures. Wishing you success and hope you can bring Tony Mafia and his talent to people's attention.

Not having any picture of the bug eyed children of the time, you do find a strong colorful Mexican Madonna instead.

Portraits

Suddenly there would be this urge, having to do a portrait. For his portraits he chose important people like friends, a drunk in the bar, a lady of the ways, a neighbor, a child in the street. He didn't do many portraits on commission. I can think of Cher when she was sixteen, because her mother asked Tony and Tony Curtis' wife, who didn't like the painting. He told me he put a red nose on her and sold the painting immediately. What is shown here are portraits of a friend Dave Hunzinger from Chloride. He was an entomologist, jeweler and also a painter. Sometimes they worked in Dave's studio where Tony made him sit for several portraits. Here in charcoal you see the man the way he was every day and in color Tony painted him while praying on the sabbath. He called it Hooglied, basically Salomon's song. The jewish iconography interested Tony having lived in Amsterdam and in the Herentalse Straat in Antwerp in the Hassidic Jewish quarter. That was in 1968. Back in Los Angeles he did a series of beautiful etchings of street scenes with rabis and orthodox jews. They were sold in the Paul Olson Gallery for 125 $, a steep prize in those days...


With thanks to Reta Huntzinger for letting me post Dave's portraits.