Mark

Europeans have it a bit better off with more holidays and lax employer/employee laws however their lull is so dull as to numb life into some bucolic landscape that never changes, just sways from side to side until you become seasick with monotonous views.
Still they are slaves to the distributor’s whims. No mind, where ever we go in life now we are beholden to the Chinese. They own us just like the Americans do now, though that’s a slippery slope. In time powers crumble, others rise.

A fellow resident of the Chelsea Hotel alerted me to this picture. These are two of the great African American painters. The artist on the left is Herbert Gentry (1919-2003) and on the right is Vincent Dacosta Smith (1929-2003). Jazz and jazz musicians are part of the biographies of both of these men, but – they were visual artists. You can see Gentry’s work on the website http://www.herbertgentry.com. and think about how some critics describe the work as “infused with jazz.”

Gentry had just returned to the US from Sweden, and moved into this apartment when this photo was shot, thus no personal stuff. I am his widow, and still reside in the same apartment at the Chelsea – more than 25 years. Wow.

Herb probably shared stories with you about his adventures and friends in Amsterdam, as he had gone to Paris after the war in 1946, and among his friends and artist community in the 1950s and 1960s were CoBrA artists.

liefs, dinoke
(+ zijn secretaresse)

Picture of 2 black gentlemen. Standing; painter Herb Gentrey. He studied art in Paris on the GI bill in the fifties. Like many black american artists Herb became part of the enclave dissatisfied with the USA after WW 2. Herb divided his time between New York and Stockholm. He passed away a couple of years ago and his widow Marianne still resides at HC. I’ll find out for you who the seated man is.

Guy Harloff passed away in Italy in 1991. He had a Dutch passport but never lived in Holland. Nether did he know anything about the country nor did he speak Dutch. His father Han Harloff, also an artist, came from The Hague and moved to Paris sometime in the 30 ies.. (See Pieter Scheen, page 438.) The dog’s name was Leda. He had an incredible relationship with the animal. Guy had a daughter by the name of Veda who moved to Amsterdam in the late 70 ies and as far as I know is still there.
I knew Guy very well. He was an alchemist and knew early American movies inside out. He turned me on to George Romero before anybody was aware of him. He had also a great respect for Samuel Fuller. Guy could be a regular pain in the ass and had whacko but definite ideas and would not budge. A lot of hard drinking, he loved his bourbon, ” a very clean alcohol’ he would say. Destruction and broken furniture
but never a fistfight, I must say. He lived in the Beat Hotel in Paris in the late 50 ies
until the place closed down in 1963. There is some wonderful photography available of the young “russian black prince” as he was known in Paris. He was truly very well connected. He lived off and on in The Hotel Chelsea through the mid eighties and moved back to Italy. He had show(s) at the Wadell Gallery until Mr. Wadell commited suicide. “Jesus Christ, Guy, is it because of your work he did himself in? ”

Your shot of bicycles locked onto hotel canape stand. One of the vehicles was my “bromfiets” and Stanley Bard was mighty pissed off at me for tying the thing up and of course I refused to move the thing but I did ride the thing through the lobby which shut him up.

The cockroach remark by Susan Kleinsinger got somehow lost in translation. George
was a composer and a super alcoholic and a great friend. His greatest theatrical success was “Archie and Mehitabel”, about a cockroach and an alley cat It played on Broadway with Carol Channing and Eartha Kitt.
This was long before he passed away.

Mr. and Mrs. Rene Shapshak were my downstairs neighbors, apt. 603. Very lovely people. After I first moved into HC in 1979, I threw a party and called Mrs. Shapshak
to let her know about it and I asked her to call me if or when the noise level was too much for them. Her wonderful reply was, “oh no don’t worry, you kids have a wonderful time, we’ll sleep through the noise” and they did.
I believe it was in 1987 when we had a major fire in apartment 607, one door down from the Shapshaks. It was a big one and everybody on the floor was evacuated. The fire department had knocked on the door of 603. No reply, the firemen were under the impression nobody was home. Wrong, they slept through the whole ordeal.

I just wanted to share these memories and hope you’ll appreciate them. Best Willem van Es