Indians - Punks

This painting the veterinarian classified as Indians. Yet they might be punks. Tony did several paintings of punks when they were to be seen everywhere. It was novel, they intrigued him and they adorned themselves which is a pretty Indian thing to do. So to me this painting is the juxtaposition of old and new Mohawks. Of traditional and nowadays Indians. Enjoy the rich texture of this oil painting.

First Young Snow

Remember the joy of first, fresh snow. Innocent, clean, white and whimsical, easy comradeship. Life as snowballs in your arms. Silly, kind, lighthearted. That Tony could be also, even in late winter of beginning 1999, he was happy the day he painted this mixed medium in Hoboken. See the abstractions of the high rises? The off green of the polder? Next time it snows, just feel good and think of beauty.

Blue soup

This mixed media drawing is a self portrait from 1982. You'll see the tattoo: The first part was a chinese dragon put on his arm when being an able bodied sailer, he turned 16 in a Chinese port. It seems he lost his virginity the same night thanks to his mates. He kept adding things to the tattoo and changing it. So one day in Antwerp he had put around the dragon: Life is a bowl of blue soup and loving. A few years later the 'and loving' was changed also in Antwerp for some flowers. He had a dog then, a Belgium shepard, called Song. It was a dark time in his life. The drawing is called a België song...

Conversation

As promised, here is a pic of the watercolor I purchased about 20 years ago at an estate sale in Santa Monica. My wife and I collect mid century modern designs (furniture, glass, ceramics and art) and this unknown (until now) piece has been a well loved piece of our collection ever since. I hope others out there will enjoy it as well. I researched Tony's work several years ago and only knew he was a musician/artist in LA. It's terrific to see how varied his work is and how well received it continues to be.

Thanks,

Gary Edwards
Sleepy Hollow, Il.

I love it when 'unknown' but loved pieces of work show up and can be shared with you all. This is clearly from the bearded, fuzzy hair flower power period. The detail of the shoe is funny.

Religious paintings

The African country I just visited is over 80 % Christian so it seemed appropriate to show a painting of Christ. Tony was catholic believing in the goodness of Christ, not being sure about his godliness. Yet he used the Christian iconography a lot in his paintings. He cared about the suffering of Christ - look at the eyes in this painting and the lines in the face - and the pain and loss of Mary Magdalen. The stories of the old testament and the new, it has all been painted. In this particular painting he combines Christ and a native sun. 'Native' obviously as in Native American, maybe referring to his own name 'Black Sun'. The portrait of Christ was painted in Chloride in 1996 and is now in the caring possession of Ken and Irene Fielder.

Rubbelsoul: please send your testimony and picure of the work you have. Tell us something about it.

On the road again

Tony used to sing on the road again... making music with friends. He cherished the phrase like band of gypsies. That is what I'll be: off line till the end of next week. I am showing this black lady since I am on my way to Africa. Also Tony was on the first march to Alabama. He told me the marchers were chased by German shepherds and he didn't like that one bit.

Pale warrior

Tony's father was Indian. Tony traced it as Onondaga Cherokee: North Eastern Cherokee. He was proud of this heritage as being part of one of the five civilized tribes. Of course his mother was 'mixed European'. He was fair skinned, as a kid had black but curly hair and dark eyes and an elongated face with high and pronounced cheekbones. He used to tell the story that when he was in the Indian orphanage in Lawrence Hall for Boys the 'do-gooder' ladies would come by and sometimes whisper among themselves to end up pointing at him saying: "See that light one, he could be one of us". That haunted him the rest of his life. This painting is about him being a pale warrior, after some unpleasant remarks by Indians and by non-Indians. Here he claims his place: Wait pale warrior waiting. Then a space and the message goes on: Accept me.
That probably was about his painting.

What is, is always II

My Personal Tribute to Tony Mafia

Tony was a great friend of mine.
We first met up in a Flemish music shop around 1981.
I took an instant dislike to the guy. What a poser ! He was too much ‘long white haired cowboy and funky Indian’ to be true. We spent a couple of months glaring at each other across crowded bars and then we finally met up and became great friends. One of the things I really liked about Tony was that he always used to tell me to get my teeth fixed – I was a streetsinger at the time.

Then one day he did something amazing for me. He asked if I would I like him to illustrate the lyrics of my own songs ? Hey, this guy is a class artist, so of course I was really honoured. We met up the next day at a cafe near the art Academy, in the old part of Antwerp. Tony had brought a big piece of black leather, with some hide strips cut to make it a kind of carrying folder. Inside the folder was a big pile of rough torn, thick sheets of parchment. It was the most beautiful paper I had ever seen.

Tony passed a sheet over to me and gave me a nib pen plus a pot of black chinese ink to dip it into. He told me to start to write out the words, but to leave some space for his drawings. I just sat there for ages frozen, just staring at this beautiful paper while Tony got busy. After a while he noticed me and asked what’s up ? I said I was scared to start in case I messed up this gorgeous sheet of paper. Tony just reached over and grabbed the paper. He then tore it up into tiny pieces and threw them all into the air. Then, looking impishly accross the table at me, he characteristically just shrugged and got busy again.

Anyway, I got over my holy joe reverance for white parchment after that and I got started on writing out the words to the songs and so we finished the job. We did eleven songs. Then he carefully tied and ceremoniously presented me with the completed portfolio of fine black leather and parchment. It could have easily come from the 15th Century.

I left it with my family in England, but it got lost when they died. It’s probably somewhere still, as likely in pieces and maybe that’s how it should be.
I am so proud to be his friend. Tony Mafia is a brother of mine.

Bob Rowley – Antwerpen - 10th November 2007.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

PS. You can hear part of these eleven songs at :
http://cdbaby.com/cd/rowley or just google my name.

Thanks Robin!

Music & friends II

Here is Robin R. with whom Tony did a lot of busking, seen here playing his latest songs in front of Tony's painting L'Homme Révolté. This painting shows the gray skies of Flanders, the sky over the polders with just a touch of yellow sunlight. This is how light and surrounding would influence his paintings. The couple is dancing in the face of fate, exuding tenderness and strength. in places the paint is thin and translucent, but the gray sky is thick and solid. He painted this piece in 1996 in Hoboken, probably after some rather wet walks with the dogs in the polder near the Scheldt. Listening with an approving and knowledgeable ear is Spookie.

Music & friends

Tony used to play music in the streets, busking. He also played gigs with friends. For a while Deroll Adams and Norris Bennett and Tony would play in bars and youth centers. In the seventies, you would find them every Tuesday evening in the St Mathijs in Antwerp. So Tony brought musicians in my life. Here you see a picture of Norris playing the dulcimer under a painting. Music was always important to Tony. He played mainly folk, country, some rock and eight bar blues in seven and a half. Some of the Dutch musicians were too precise for him: If a fly lands on their sheet music, they play it... He loved to play flamenco: bullerias, fandangos, ... He played even a few classical pieces. He owned several guitars, two banjo's, and a harmonica on which he liked to blow Irish songs. He has given away several guitars. He gave away a lot of other things too. The painting from 1999 is called She holds nothing.

The Fish

Spooky wrote that her Grandson seems fascinated and talking and listening to Tony's painting, in her words: Arend Celis is weg van de tekening van Tony. Hij is er door gebiologeerd en praat ertegen. Ik heb de indruk dat hij echt met Tony praat, want soms zwijgt hij en lijkt hij heel aandachtig te luisteren. De andere tekeningen en schilderijen hebben minder zijn aandacht. Alhoewel Colette Cleeren kan hij ook wel smaken.

IsabelNecessary, whom I don't know at all, knew Tony. She volunteered following testimony:
Thank you for making this blog for Tony. I met him in the late 1950's in Greenwich Village where he was hustling his paintings. My husband, the artist Mark Cheka, and I knew him in L.A. in the 60's and 70's. The last time I saw Tony was in the early to mid 70's at Canter's Deli on Fairfax in L.A. I am happy to hear that although we lost contact that he thrived for many more years. I don't have any paintings by Tony, although I may have a painting that Mark did of him. Thanks, everyone, for sharing all the memories.

Isabel and Mark, if you read this, please send a picture of the painting Mark did of Tony...

I am adding the drawing The Fish, property of the vet in which Tony's longing for a belonging a you is the theme. Even now he seems to find many you's.

Ja

Het is niet morgens lange voor altijd,
nooitnimmer of een gedachte van gisteren
dat dit tot leven bracht, wat dan ook,
daar stond het zeggend: “Kijk
naar mij, ik ben schoonheid, kijk naar
mij, ben ik niet iets dat
jij gevoeld hebt, voelend terwijl je
wellicht trachtte te leven, levend,
gevend.” Ik voel mijn schilderziel
zeggend, kijk naar mij, schoonheid
geschilderd.

Dit was al wat ik kon verstaan
hoewel ik mijn hand aan mijn oor hield
en luisterde. Ik kwam dichter, maar
dra leek mijn nabijheid het
veel zachter te maken, hardhoriger
en in niet kunnen verstaan
kwam de vrees, die me beklemde. Ik liep,
lopend naar iemand, iets om me te helpen bij
mijn begrijpen van de angst voor niet weten.

Ik liep langs verleden herinnering in mijn vlucht.
Vrees weerhield mij hen om hulp
te vragen bij mijn niet weten.
Trots weerhield mij mijn behoefte
tot begrijpen te tonen. Het bleef
in mij terugkomen: “Ik ben schoonheid
levend, ik voel mijn geschilderde ziel,
mijn schilderschoonheid.”

Ik liep langs een stroom scharlaken vissen.
Zachtjes zong ik voor ze: “Ken
je de geschilderde schoonheid niet?
Of laat je koude, natte huis
je niet weten van de liefde
van anderen voor hun eigen schoonheid?”
Zij zwommen slechts stroomopwaarts
en antwoordden niet eens, of
tenminste begreep ik het niet
als zij het deden. Zo doende voelde ik
mij alleen, eenzaam. Zo zeer bevreesd
liep ik snel, harder, verder en verder
want zij leken er niet om te geven
of deze schoonheid bestond
voor haar eeuwigheid. Zo loop, liep,
lopend ving de wind mijn
waaiende manen omwevend
mijn gelaat in een kant van angst
mij verblindend voor alles wat ik in mijn vlucht
ontliep om de stille klank te vinden die
ik zo wilde kennen, het geheim
begrijpen van deze schoonheid haar
geschilderde ziel die mijn dorst kon lessen,
deze blinde haast van angst zou STOPPEN,
vrees voor het onbekende, zwartste
nacht koud alleen, alle verblindende tranen
stopt. Beëindigen de onwetendheid. Ik stond
opnieuw te luisteren, door mijn harige manen
glinsterend kwam een ochtendlicht.
Mijn angstjacht was gelopen, nu getoond
de zon die licht gaf, warmte
aan het scharlaken vis vloeiende rivier
lied. Zij kenden het zingen, het is
schoonheid. Wist je dat niet?

dus nu keer ik weer naar de plaats
waar ik begon, kwam de stem zacht op
de wind. Ik luisterde, ze zei: “Ik
ben schoonheid, ben ik niet, kijk naar mij en
bemin. Kijk naar mij, ben ik niet iets
dat je hebt gevoeld, voelend hoe mijn
geschilderde ziel ja zegt. Ik ben geheel schoonheid
en ja, jou geef ik ze.”

Ze zei heel zachtjes
Ja.

Dutch: 1995. And Yes fear was a strong feeling in Tony: fear of death, fear of not being understood and loved and ofcourse a zest for life, joy and charm. It seem fitting to remembr this on this All Souls Day...