A painted door

 In Chloride, Sharon shared her paintings she had from Tony Mafia. She loves horses and thus when Tony did the painting on her door he portrayed her on a galloping horse in the left top corner. In the full length portrait she is holding two dolls.
Tony wrote: How beautiful she rides and signed it. The painting was done in 1990.

A comment by Christopher Vipond Davies

He writes: I knew Tony back in 1965 in Paris. We played and sang together in a would be cowboy bar. I had left Britain a few months before to "find myself" and in St Tropez I had found I could make a basic living singing in the cafes. After moving north to work in the champagne harvest I gravitated to Paris. At that time, I didn't have a large repertoire and probably wasn't so good, especially at handling people who requested songs I didn't know. The boss like Tony but had reservations about me, but Tony insisted we were a pair. "I’m Just a Country Boy" - Music by Fred Brooks, Lyrics by Marshall Barer - written for Harry Belafonte and now associated most with Don Williams was a favourite song of his, he played in with a rising chord sequence. He wanted to go to Spain, I wasn't sure, and we parted, shortly later I went to Italy. I've always remembered him, also his great art, in those days I remember mainly ink drawings with colour was, a very immediate impression of a moment a place. I was very sad when I Googled him some time ago to find he'd passed on, but happy to find him so comprehensively remembered. I was reminded of him again last Saturday: I was singing n the street in Amsterdam, where I live, not far from the Rembrandthuis and an artist stopped to chat, and mentioned he'd known Deroll Adams who I read had known Tony, and all the memories came flooding back. Am working on finishing a song about him, based on Country Boy, wanna sing it on Tuesday at a meeting celebrating the UN Day of Friendship.

Thank you Christopher for this nice testimony.

Bullshit Cowboy

Here is a photo of Ben's Tony Mafia he wants to sell. My suggestion would be to post one of them with the accompanying message, that 'Here is a Tony Mafia painting that is being offered for sale. The owner is a friend of Tony's who is himself an artist/craftsman, and helped us considerably in the renovation of our US residence. He is facing severe medical problems, and is being forced 'to liquidate some of my treasures', as he said. He is asking 700 U$, which is a very fair price. I agreed to put it up for sale here on Tony's site, and handle the details for him. I will offer it for sale until 1 July, at which time the highest bidder over $700, will be the new owner. This is one of Tony's whimsical painting that everybody loves. He loved to hate the painting, hence the title. It stood in the Tennessee Saloon for a long time and yes one day Tony gave it to Ben. It is not  the best picture but in enlarging it  you'll recognize Tony's strokes and landscape. And by the way, Tony did have red boots... By the way in the meantime Ben Herbst sold the painting. May the new owner be happy with it.

The Whiskey A Go Go and Tony Mafia

Thank you John for the additional information provided by your mam.  I gladly post it here:

"Your Dad does seem to remember buying this painting from him because he really needed to eat, and was willing to sell them for about $100.  Knowing your dad, it's hard for me to believe in the 1950's or 60's he would spend $100 for a painting.  A hundred dollars was a LOT of money then.  But on the other hand, he had just done Al Capone, so maybe he was.  He members Tony was at Schwabs Drug Store, on Sunset and Laurel, where everyone in the industry went for breakfast or lunch to maybe make a connection or be "discovered."  He thinks Tony was there because he was sort of an actor.  But reading about the Whisky, I think Dad's story made sense because Schwabs was the day-time place, and the Whisky was at night. "

This information corroborates Tony's stories about that period of his life. Dale Root also remembers Tony doing the first Go Go cages at the Whiskey A Go Go.  And yes he was kind of an actor being in a few Perry Mason issues. At the Whiskey there was supposedly also a painting hung with the back of the painting to the front and only one way of seeing it when one went to the bathroom. Also it should be repeated here that Tony did present many of the hootenannies at the Troubadour in the sixties and was part of the group "The men". I sat in a conversation when Steppenwolf came to Laughlin, Nevada between Danny and Tony remembering the Doug Weston and Troubadour days. Tony used to tell me that John Kay always lost his glasses on stage, glasses he absolutely needed.

John,I thank you for your efforts and I am afraid I learned more from you than you learned from the blog...

Bieke's painting and memories

When I was a young one, living in Antwerp, I fell in with a group of American expats. We all were drawn to The Folkcenter and The Matthijs, where Tony, Deroll Adams, and Norris held court. Those were the years when I took a little dip in the waters of folk singing myself but soon found out that I didn’t have the nerves to be a performer.

So, I crawled back into my pen.

Then I went and lived in England for a year. Tony went off somewhere. When I returned to Antwerp, he had come back as well. He would come and visit me and I would spend hours listening to his stories. He also played guitar for my baby son, who has grown into quite an accomplished guitarist.

One day, talking to Tony, I told him I was looking for a gift for my parents. The next time we met, he presented me with this painting of a mother and child. When I wanted to pay him, he refused the money. That was Tony: a golden heart, a wonderful painter, and a great story teller both with his guitar and with words.

I left for Canada, after that. He went god knows where. One day, about thirty years ago, I happened upon him as he was busking somewhere in Antwerp. Still Tony, still doing the same thing, still true to his inner voice. We talked for a while. Then a good ten years later, I was visiting Antwerp again and there he was again, at the same spot, busking. It wasn’t as if he had been there all that time. No, he had just come back from the States and I was there, as usual, for a short visit and on a rare occasion when I was not being driven by a family member.

It was one of those wonderful twists of fate.

This time he invited me to visit with him and, that evening, I reconnected with Annmarie, whom I hadn’t seen since those youthful days of the Folkcenter. I must say that I feel privileged to have known this man and to have called him my friend.

 And I am delighted to be able to visit with him on this blog.

Bieke Stengos (Cammaert)

Aldo's Memory

 The attached picture sets the clock back with 27 years and takes us to – probably-  the most favorite place in the world of any 5-year-old; the city fair.

Seated in Tony Maffia’s neck, I stare at yellow, plastic ducklings which are swimming in a water bassin of one of Antwerp’s “finest” carnival stands.

The prices, which we can gain by catching as many ducklings as possible, are extremely big and colorful , almost disproportional to what we are asked to do in exchange for receiving such a trophee.  

The ducklings have challenged us. We both feel the adrenaline rushing through our vains and, as we take a deep breath, we know which adventure lies ahead of us.

I guess this best gives words to what I thought of Tony. In my eyes he was never the person I see on the picture today; a white-haired man at least fifty years older than I was.

Rather, I saw him as a contemporary and an accomplice who was ready to discover the world with me. At the time, I was too young to relate my fellow adventurer Tony to ‘Tony Mafia’, the painter. He was extremely young at heart and always ready to share both my happiness and sorrow.

 As I grew older, I realized that Tony had captured our mutual spirit for discovery in his paintings.

To this day, every painting of Tony remains a discovery to me; in color, in pattern and story. Every time I look at one of Tony’s works, I notice something different. Every time I stare at his paintings, I see something new.

And, like the picture attached,  such a painting takes me back 27 years in time. Back to being that 5-year-old boy, ready to catch as many fair ducklings as he can.    

Aldo de Pape

Thank you so much Aldo!

Ken Post's Tony song

TONY MAFIA

HE WAS PAINTING                      

ON THE STREETS OF PARIS 

HENRI MATISSE PASSED HIS 

WAY IF YOU KEEP ON PAINTING 

LIKE THAT YOU LL BECOME A 

MASTER ONE DAY

AND HE DID BECOME A MASTER 

BUT  YOU ’ VE NEVER HEARD HIS

NAME HE MUST HAVE BEEN BORN

UNDER AN OBSCURE STAR

 BECAUSE THAT IS WHERE HE 

STAYED

WIH THE INTENSITY OF   A 

TOREADOR POISED WITH 

PALETTE AND BRUSH  DANCING 

IN FRONT OF THE CANVAS 

PAINTING WITH A LUSH TOUCH

MIGHT BE A LYRICAL PORTRAIT 

OR A COMPLEX STORY              

ONE DAY HE SPUN AROUND     

AND HE TOLD ANNMARIE 

REMEMBER ME 

BY MY BRUSH STROKES

HE LOVED A ROLLICKING DIRTY 

DITTY AND A PASSIONATE 

SPANISH STRUM 

IF YOU TOLD HIM

YOU LIKED HIS SHIRT HE’ D TAKE 

IT OFF AND GET A NEW ONE

I’ M IN THE COLLECTIONS OF 

SINATRA AND THE ENGLISH 

QUEEN HE’ D SAY THEN GO OUT

AND SING FOR HIS  SUPPER , 

BUSKING IN THE

REMAINS OF THE DAY

WHY SOME BECOME

RICH AND FAMOUS IS A 

CURIOUS THING TO SPECULATE 

WE ALL HAVE OUR INDIVIDUAL 

MAGNIFICENCE AND THEN

ITS UP TO FATE

SOME ARE BORN                         

IN THE BACK OF TAXI CABS 

OTHERS IN STABLES  

ON BALES OF HAY       

TONY WAS BORN              

ON A POOL TABLE IN LAS VEGAS 

WHEN HIS MAMA DROPPED HIM                        

BEHIND THE 8 BALL

BORN BETWEEN THE IRISH      

AND THE CHEROKEE              

LIVING BETWEEN THE DESERT 

OF ARIZONA AND THE SWAMP 

OF ANTWERPEN BELGIE

SCATTERING HIS SEED AND

SPATTERING HIS PAINTS 

 LIVING IN THE PRESENT 

WITHOUT RESTRAINTS

SO RUMORS OF TONY ’S  DEMISE 

CIRCULATED EVERY FEW YEARS 

BUT WHEN HE DIED IN ‘99 THE 

STORIES OF HIS EXPLOITS 

BROUGHT LAUGHTER AND TEARS

ANNMARIE TOOK HIM BACK TO

THE DESERT WHERE THEY 

LOWERED HIM INTO THE EARTH

THEN ALL WATCHED AS THE 

WIND PICKED UP , SWIRLED & 

CARRIED HIS SPIRIT BACK TO 

THE PLACE BEFORE HIS BIRTH

 Thank you Ken for your testimony.

Tony's helpers

Ah, good taste, what a dreadful thing! Taste is the enemy of creativeness. -Pablo Picasso, painter and sculptor (1881-1973.

I start with this quote because it might be felt to be not  too elegant what I am about to write. A series of people have stood steadfast by Tony Mafia's side during his life which has known many down and out periods. I want with this post to honor these friends who provided him with a means of transportation, who kept him fed, whom he cajoled when his children came to Antwerp so that he could feed them and show them a good time.
In random order I honor: Anke and Sam Nassi, who traded a painting for a car, Dale Root who gave him a very good guitar when he didn't have one, Doug Lyon who let him have his Shell gas card. This is not publicity for the oil company but it was one of the brands where one could by milk and sandwiches before it became a normal thing. He kept Tony fed during a a long time. Doug would also slip him some money. Then in Belgium Paula and Wim van Hees who ended up with a nice collection of Tony's work.  Jim Van Leemput, Guy and Anne Sijssen, the dentist who did Tony's teeth in exchange for drawing and painting classes. Arnold De Paepe, the veterinarian who would give him prescriptions for his heart medication. I should not forget the people of Antwerp who threw a coin in his guitar case when he was busking in the street, often not even making enough money for a meal in 'Het Hofke'. Friends of friends who bought a drawing, the collector Harry Kegels who has a wonderful collection of Tony's work, sometimes being given the drawings or oil, other times when Tony really needed the money  paying a fair prize. The hookers of Antwerp who made their John's buy a drawing for them and thus kept Tony's rent paid. I am sure I am forgetting people, I am sure I don't know all the people who showed kindness toward him.  Yes, he was often a starving artist, living in the dumpiest places without heat... Or alone in a tiny trailer on top of a mountain because it was only 75 $ per month. And even then loosing the land for non-payment...

These are facts.  The story of Tony's life is his story, and he told it well, stylized and lighthearted. Were they lies? I think it was  the truth as he saw it.  Other people involved in his life may have a very different take on what happened, may have had other expectations of him. He was not an easy person, yet most people who met him, where touched and came out a better person with more beauty in their soul.

Terrea Lea II

Just read your post on Terrea Lea you sure did your homework. Nice. Do you remember this piece? I believe I sent it to you before with a question weather or not she could have been the subject. I think it looks very much like the only picture of her that I have seen. Only thing is the signature is spelled Tony Mafia. It's old enough that I thought it could have been done at a time when Tony was still perfecting his pen name. Note the earrings and necklace. What do you think?

I think you are right, Joe. It looks like an early piece, chalk on paper... Thanks for sharing. Tumbleweed

Chloride (for Bret)

Chloride would drive Tony into a frenzy. This painting is proof of that. On a dark stormy night, rain gushing down, he got 'restless', 'crazy', 'anxious'. What the feeling was that would grab hold of him at those times. He tore out a piece of boarded fence and painted these Indians, which he gave away the same night to Ken F. Some people he took to immediately, like to you Bret. Talking and listening, joking on the back porch were good and cherished moments. I too learned from you, your voice and turning on the preacher as a demonstration... I hope you are well. If you post a comment with your e-mail, I'll reply to you and then erase the comment to keep your mail private. I hope that works for you.

Gentleness

This gentle 1993 pen and ink drawing washed with water is done in Chloride. Tony must have been in a melancholic mood. He often was. He craved recognition as a great artist - which he is in my mind - yet never got the breakthrough other, sometimes less interesting, artists made. Doug Lyon would come and visit us in Chloride every time we were there and he would bring Jeffrey. It were good and happy times. Doug would also slip Tony some money when it was obvious we were 'impecunious and without funds'. Thanks again.

Birds

These birds, at first glance they seem to be pigeons; they are a lithograph. When in Paris Tony did several lithographs. Once again: no date or signature on the photograph but seen it is in the series of work from the early seventies in Los Angeles. I know Robert K. owns some of those. Do you see the lady with the red hat?

The pond

THE POND


Morning in Hoboken. Light meets me again, the light
of long languid days at the pond near Lawrence Hall.
Oh, eight again in the orphanage of Chicago!
(My Cherokee daddy took a deadly drink of acid,
run-down by the taunting sneers about his lineage.)

All the time of the world. I and the boys never plan,
it all happens to us of itself, like one day
just being dropped here of itself. It is a tacit covenant:
misery we drown together in this secret pond
in the middle of the woods. All our senses sharp.

All gradations of green circle the glade where clouds
touch water, pink veils brought in by the wind.
I hear yesteryear’s sounds: the song of redwing and hummingbird
blending with our high voices of boys and the diving,
the breaking and splashing of water. We looking for water turtles.

Briefly eight again in the orphanage, but the screeching
of the seagulls brings me back. Winter in Hoboken.
Fog collars me now. Singularly touches me,
mutes colors and sounds. People hurry by, numbed and lost
deep in themselves. It is the restraint that strikes me here:

of the light hardly showing color, of the pigeon on the branch in the mist,
of nothing still stirring, of sound we gave a name but continues
to stutter strangely in the ears and, if at last the sun breaks through,
the shifting of shadow and light. It is my heart that is touched here.
Years and years beyond words.

Rose Vandewalle wrote this poem for the Demer Publication 'Black Sun' which you can order at Lulu. It is close to Tony's sentiments mixed with her own sensitivity. She knew Tony, owns work by him, has known the painting in my living room for a long time.

Tony Dean Mafia / Black Sun

TONY DEAN MAFIA
after a picture, for Annmarie Sauer

Subdued, as only death can make you,
still and in thought
so I see Tony sitting
in the sands of a white and far off past,
I who have not known him but
- ten years after his breath -
hear him talk, play music,
see him paint with colors of earth and blood
and a brush in which his heart still beats.

Tony, marked by the exhaust fumes of Chicago
and chained to the shots ringing in his name,
a James Dean with Cherokee in his veins:
the cowboy boots reminding me of
those of J.J. Jones, the Navajo who
in Monument Valley among timeless cathedrals
of red rock and whiffs of Marlboro smoke
forever passed on to me the sadness of his eyes.
Look: the galloping mummy of John Wayne !

I kneel for you Tony, and ask
- if only for a second -
to look into my eyes,
the gaze away from the white sand.
And to talk about Indians
and their trail of tears.

This poem by Willie Verhegghe is in fact made to the photograph of Tony you see when opening the blog.I added another picture, looking at the artisan guitar builder at Montellano, near Seville in Spain, who made 'The Crying Madonna' and the classical dark wooded guitar. He still looks away, but here he looks at something he enjoys. The poem is from the 'Black Sun', a publication, which you can order at Lulu.

The sater

Tony's nephew Joe:
The painting was done in North Las Vegas 1986. I bought it from Ed Morgan (my step dad) a few years ago. He had it in a trailer that was not very tall so the top was rolled, folded over and forced to fit. That put a crease across the top and caused some damage but mostly it is in good shape.
I think it's the devil stealing a woman from that poor guy who looks like he has been hypnotized. If all's fair in love and war then I think this is a painting about Love. Sorry I'm not much of a critic when it comes to art and my thoughts. I will say this is one of those paintings that the more I looked at it the more I liked it.
Note to Joe: it is Greek mythology; Pan with the flute and a very light haired Sater to boot. It must be an idealized self-portrait of Tony... I love the wide open space of the landscape. I think it was shown in the La Brea Gallery in Las Vegas.

Mixed media

Here you can see what I mean when I say that a drawing is a mixed medium. The basis here is water color, then a few lines are in oil pastels, a structured circle is in oil, there is some pen and Chinese ink and the drawing is finished in pencil. He did this drawing for a friend in Chloride Dave Hunzinger and Reta let me show it to you. A dream for Dave June 1997.

Nude Moon

To say that Tony was not one who loved the night sky would be wrong. As a kid, I always remember when my father and I would visit Tony and Annmarie in Chloride, we would always stare at the sky's and talk for hours. Somewhere deep down in my heart I sort of feel tony painted pictures by forming his own figures in the sky. I do remember him asking me what shapes I saw in the sky one night, though sadly I don't remember much else that night.
posted by Windsong. Nude Moon is a painting from 1975.

Music in Antwerp

I met Tony Mafia back in the summer of 1982 when I was busking my way around Europe for my first time. Amazing as it sounds I had the fortune of meeting him on the second day of my adventure. I had crashed on Pete Punkers spare mattress and in the morning he took me to the café in this picture Billenkletser . I am the one cut off and behind us is Mike Stone from Manchester. That same morning Derroll Adams wandered by and joined us and I didn't know either one of these guys but they were both dropping names like they really knew all these famous people. I ended up staying around Antwerp for a few weeks just to find out what kind of musical Mecca I had found. Tony was the driving force to keep me around he kept trying to talk me into making a singing cowboy band. Ha! He was famous for dropping a beat every once in awhile which drove me crazy- but you had to love being around him anyway. Tony was such a magical man. Wish this could be sound as well because I have a recording of him singing "Georgia" and "On the Road Again"

I am looking for a way to post the music... 5 songs... help!

Dambruggestraat

David's words: Now for these two pictures of a mural Tony painted on Vera Singlyn's wall sometime in the 90's. He was hiding out there for awhile and everyone in the house was fixing the house up so Tony pitched in and did his share by painting this mural while everyone else was working.
Unfortunately this house is empty and has had a fire so I think these two photos are all that is left of that piece of art. This was Tony's way of teaching about impermanence. The last few pilgrimages I made to Antwerp and to see Tony he became my teacher of life. He would talk with me about how fleeting fame really was. How fame and disgrace are so close they were really two sides of the same coin.
Tony was like nobody I had ever met. He was truly and inspiration to be around. I loved him like a father.

Comment: I am immensely pleased these pictures showed up, the writing around the mural is mine. We both signed it.

The Golden Age of a Master

I titled this the golden age of a master as this painting is one of his most detailed paintings, every person in the back round has a distinct face. I love this piece out of my father collection.

Over the years my own connections to the paintings that hang in my house have grown. The more I look back on the fact that I had a well received artist as an almost second father, the more I come to realize the effect he has had on me. We take for granted many times the impact other people hold on our lives. I realize this now in the wake of Tony’s absence from mine. Growing up around Tony’s art and life has educated me in ways that I can only know just begin to understand. There was a time when I helped Tony in one of his drawings, now I am no great painter, but he still encouraged me to be creative. In recent years I have picked up poetry, which I feel is my way of painting a picture. But only now can I grasp that Tony was the one who encouraged me to go there. No other person had ever advocated creativity like him. No as my sheen eyes gaze upon his fingerprints, left for the world to see, I understand.
As I have looked back on my poetry, I realize that Tony’s life is buried under the words of my pen. In a poem I wrote titled “Heaven” a portion of my poem states, “An evangelic face shines, illuminating more than the moon / Fitting the furnace in my arms, my heart is reborn / Like a flower in bloom, I open to the heavens / Mouth strewn open, collecting the demon rum of the gods.” These words came from my heart and Tony had always told me to use my heart in everything I do. When I look back on this certain poem I come to realize that Tony is embedded in its words, just like he is embedded in my heart. If he could look at this poem from his own perspective today, I believe he would think that it’s about him. As I have learned from Tony, its up to the viewers to make their own choice about what a certain piece of art is about. Tony’s belief that everything had a story has carried into me when I write my poems. Tony passion will always be in my heart.