The actor

This 1995 oil is very dear to me. You might not know that Tony had been an actor. In his new York period he had followed classes in Method Acting with Lee Strasberg and knew quite a lot of people from the Hollywood scene, some of them loving his work. One story is worth repeating. He was in Blood Wedding of Federico Garcia Lorca. He was one of the wood choppers and the understudy for the male lead. He only once had to perorm that role and when I asked 'How did you do,' His repley was: 'I sucked!' The oth wood chopper always tried to overplay him and thus mostly their scene wasn't too good till the day that at his first replique Tony kicked the other guy hard in the scins and got him really mad. So they really looked at each other, feeling flew over the stage and they had a major applause for their performance. After that night, they always played well without any kicking...

Harlequin Painter

In a gentler mood in 1999 Tony painted this harlequin painter. He saw the task of the arts as being the fools or more like the jesters at a royal court: showing and saying what one sees. Here a trapeze artist and Tony himself slightly touch the painter in a protective gesture of reassurance & support. When people called him a genius he thought that to be unfair. They load the responsibility they don't want on his shoulders to fit the image of the starving artist in a cold attic, not understood by the world. He felt that people unloaded the burden of being something great from their shoulders onto his. Note also the landscape and its far horizon and enjoy!
ps: I've tossed the yellow sweater ;-)

Nude

This is a monoprint, Tony would put oil paint on glass and make one print. He liked to use the haphazard effects of chance. He cherish the problems this created to do something worthwhile with it. This lady and lecherous faun stems from 1975.

The Cocktail Party

it is an early spring day, a perfect day for a garden party like this one. The party is a bit crowded to my taste but I think Tony enjoyed painting it. I like the blue of the sky and the white clouds and the forever symbolic Martini glass. A fun moment in Hoboken in 1999. It is hanging in the small show at the East Castle in Antwerp.

Hospital 2

HOSPITALS

for Tony Mafia

Where lines approach each other only to diverge once more, something like
sorrow arises. The background is blue. Can stay that way. From stripes
green lines and from lines threads. The blood beats in the heart, it
beats in the women that survive and that retain the grave and the
memory. The woman watches from behind a serum stand. Visitors
coming. You are ferried along corridors, you descend through
lift shafts. Down to the final room, the heart chamber. The heart is now
opened and closed once more. Closed once more. Men bend forwards,
bend over the body and the bed. There are loud whisperings to which
no one is listening. Then they return, really and truly, from the distance,
the eyes of the one who is killed, just before he falls. You don’t forget them.
You wanted a hewn gravestone and that you got, written on
with the red of blood. The stone comes from the ravine. You’re aware of that.
A woman gives an anxious sidelong look in your direction. Distance comes close.
Your brush was fanciful, like your wildest dance. Now you dance away from her.
Stay here, I say, I say, since you already left so many years ago.
Translation:
John Irons



ZIEKENHUIZEN

voor Tony Mafia

Waar lijnen bij elkaar komen en weer uit elkaar lopen, ontstaat iets
als zorg. De achtergrond is blauw. Dat mag zo blijven. Uit strepen
groeien lijnen en uit lijnen draden. Het bloed klopt in het hart, het
klopt in de vrouwen die overleven en die het graf en de herinnering
bewaren. De vrouw kijkt van achter een serumstaander toe. Er komt
bezoek. Je wordt door gangen gereden, je gaat door liftkokers naar
beneden. Naar de laatste kamer, de hartkamer. Het hart wordt nu
geopend en weer gedicht. Weer gedicht. Mannen buigen naar voren,
ze buigen over het lichaam en het bed. Er wordt hoog gefluisterd,
er wordt niet geluisterd. Dan komen ze, echt, vanuit de verte terug,
de ogen van wie wordt gedood, net vóór hij valt. Je vergeet ze niet.
Een gehouwen grafsteen wou je en die kreeg je toch, beschreven
met het rood van bloed. De steen komt uit het ravijn. Dat weet je
goed. Een vrouw lonkt angstig in je richting. Verte komt dichtbij.
Je borstel was grillig, als je wildste dans. Nu dans je weg van haar.
Blijf hier, zeg ik, zeg ik, nu je al sinds zo veel jaren bent weggegaan.

Joris Iven

You can order 'Black Sun' at http://www.lulu.com/content/5638999

Ascension

This painting has already been posted. I have a good reason though to show it again. Albert Hagenaars was inspired by this painting writing his poem for Black Sun, a tribute to Tony Mafia. Then click' het laatste nieuws ( blog)' and go to 'A tribute to Indian-American artist Tony Mafia'. This will link to Albert's poem in Dutch and English. The poem beautifully captures the multitude of facets which inspired Tony for this painting and the made the feelings and experiences his own so that they are ours when we read it.

By and by the other poems of this beautiful volume will be posted and of course you can order the book at www.lulu.com