Living with Legends: Hotel Chelsea Blog

Blogging For The Man (and The Woman)

A couple of weeks back Hotelchatter.com introduced a new feature called Hotel Blog Watch.  Blog watch will review corporate hotel blogs to see if they have anything worthwhile to report.  While they gave Legends credit for being one of the first Hotel blogs to hit the scene, they once again erroneously reported that our blog is sponsored by Stanley Bard. Don't we wish!  Show us the money, Stanley.  Yesterday they straightened out the record.

In other corporate blog news, Ed now has a column over on that big corporate blog The Huffington Post. So he'll be writing for Arianna Huffington now in addition to blogging for Stanley Bard.

An Unreasonable Man Stops by The Chelsea

The unreaonable man writes: "I checked in and left my bag there a few minutes ago. The Chelsea is a place with “character”, and plenty of it...  That means, in Real Estate language, that it is a dump. But a dump with a lot of history... I was of course immediately suckered into taking not the $285 room, but the $325 apartment, oh and that is for two people, and that is per person… it’s a seller’s market."   Wow, am I reading this right?  $750.00 per night, plus tax, to stay at the Chelsea. Now let's see, for that amount of money you can stay at any of the following: Four Seasons, The Peninsula, Ritz-Carlton, The Lowell, The Carlyle, The Pierre, and Jumeirah Essex House. I hope at least they got the Britney Spears suite.
Where are you from?
My name is Michael Willems, and I am from Toronto, Canada. Actually, I am from Holland, grew up in Holland and the UK, have worked in 30 countries worldwide over the past 25 years, and am now Canadian. Not surprisingly considering that history, I consider myself a citizen of the world.
What do you do?
Two things. Well, many things: I do not derive my identity from just my job, thank God. Having said that, my day job is Chief Technology Officer of an international technology company. But my second life, my passion, is photography. I have been making photographs for several decades; now digitally. I am never without a heavy camera slung from my shoulder. I like expressing what I see around me and sharing it. See a few Chelsea pictures here: http://www.willems.ca/gallery/thumbnails.php?album=24
What inspired you to stay at the Hotel Chelsea?
Oh.. clearly, the history. The feeling of being in the presence of greats. But also, the artistic creative atmosphere.
Do you think the Hotel has a creative spirit?
God, yes! Only look at the hallways is enough to see that.
What's your favorite Hotel Chelsea Story?
All of them. My *least* favourite though is Sid Vicious
What's the best/worst thing that has happened to you at the Chelsea?
The best: checking in
The worst: checking out

Bohemian Booty Still Hot

     We’re constantly looking for ways in which Stanley Bard might improve service here at the Hotel Chelsea, and hopefully also make piles of dough for him to roll around in like Scrooge McDuck in his McMansion in the wilds of New Jersey.  A recent article in the New York Times suggests Guest Galleries and Megasuites, but I think we’ve already got the former, and as for the latter Stanley can just bust down a wall and throw out an artist or two when a yuppie needs to expand.
     But what’s really going to pack the tourists in are these new Peek-a-boo baths. The concept is simple: “At the Hotel on Rivington…the floor to ceiling windows allow neighbors on Delancy Street to spy into the shower.” And when you’re not busy displaying your own wares, the hotel supplies binoculars so you can size up the assets of others.
     Sheer Genius. The best ideas are always the simplest.  We’ve mentioned this trend before, and suggested that here at the Chelsea Hotel you can just climb up the airshaft and ogle Bohemian Booty to your hearts desire. What we can’t understand is why Stanley Bard has yet to advertise this amenity.
     But word is slowly starting to leak out.  A guy who has been staying here recently encountered a woman in the lobby:
    “…I know all about this place! I stayed here 15 years ago and I know all about the

     perverts in the walls! They would be on the balconies and the fire escapes when I was    

    changing'! They was filmin’ me in the shower, these fucking pervert tenants you got here!

    I know about the passage ways in the walls…and the peepholes!”
Sure as hell tops the Rivington! There are those among us – and I pity them—who would call this woman crazy.  I call her a visionary, in the truest, Madison Avenue, sense of the term.  Instead of throwing her out – which is apparently what happened to the woman the day in question – Stanley should hire her as his publicist.  Passage ways and peepholes! What semi-adventurous tourist could pass that up?  Peek-a-boo! (Ed Hamilton)

Job Opportunity for All of the "Bad Girls" in the Building

BURLESQUE ROOM WILL BE HAVING TALENT SCOUTS ON WEDNESDAY, JUNE 28th AT SERENA @ 9PM.  Doors Open @ 7pm. Are You A "BAD GIRL"?  We want to audition you for a NEW NATIONAL TV SHOW that we are casting for a major cable network.  (via Craigslist.com)

WHO PUT THE F.U. IN FUN?

Our old Chelsea Hotel-mate Blair Wear (alter ego, Blair Bauer) is showing her hand painted, one-of-a-kind clothes and accessories as part of a show in the East Village.  Titled “In a Girl’s World,” it’s billed as an All Female Urban Art Exhibition.  We went to the press party for the show on Thursday at the Showroom Gallery.  In the front room stoned hipsters posed and milled about, as a D.J. spun tunes that couldn’t even be heard above the din of conversation.
        There were a couple of good artists showing in the front room.  I liked Queen Andrea’s Bratz-inspired buxom child-like women in rainbow colors, though I was dubious as to the wisdom of trying to contain her wild style graffiti in a canvas.  Toofly (I kept saying it like “too-flea” but now I get it: Too fly, as in “Too Fly to Die!”) drew buxom cartoon women as well, though hers had a harder take-no-shit kind of edge.  Both these artists seemed heavily influenced by Japanese cartoon arts such as Manga, though they added their own distinctly American touches.

            Things were a bit livelier in the back room, where Blair had strategically set up shop near the liquor.  Blair had designed the room to look like a psychotic cross between a day-glow gas station rest room and a psychedelic tenement slum, complete with clotheslines draped with her “dirty” laundry, an explosion of graffiti on the walls, and even a hot pink tampon machine.  (The machine took quarters and a girl tried to put a dime in it and clogged it up.  “I thought you were my friend!” Blair joked.)  Blair had outfitted the bar girls in hand-painted wife beaters, and an underwear model pranced around.  It was a funhouse atmosphere back there, and people seemed more excited, perhaps due to the surroundings.  Or maybe it was Blair’s bubbly personality.  Or the liquor.

            Heavy on the pink, as always, Blair’s airbrush graffiti work is more free style than the other artists, more the bathroom graffiti style, “grafilthy” as they used to call it in Playboy.  Her cartoons are based on American comics; no Manga or anime for her--more like D.C. and Marvel.  And her creations have a literate, playful wit.  She hand paints her bras and panties and wife-beaters with clever, risqué slogans, such as: “Did you buy your breath at the ass store?”; “Who pissed in your slimfast?” “The Grim Reep Her”; and “Do you have some sort of sickness, woman?”

            Seeing graffiti out of its natural setting in the grunge of the city tends to expose it’s poverty as art.  The mood of the front room reflected this: the room, and the art, were ultimately rather uninteresting.  Graffiti really doesn’t belong on the walls of a gallery, it’s made to be an integral part of the filthy brick or concrete on which it’s painted, and Blair’s transformation of the gallery into a lavatory was inspired.  She brought the streets—even if they turned out to be cartoon streets--to the gallery.

            “Life is too short to be stiff!” Blair says when uptight critics pose questions about the meaning of her art.  “Lighten up a little and have fun!”

            Completing the carnival atmosphere of the back room, you could pick up a Blair Wear fun pack for a mere $10.  Somehow, one of them ended up in my possession, so I must have stolen it.  I’m opening it right now (I’m sure there will be an F.U. in there for my snide dig at its price).  Let’s see: a piece of Double Bubble, a space man, a finger puppet, a mastodon, a length of measuring tape, a skull ring, a Blair Wear tattoo, and, best of all, a bunch of hot pink Blair Wear trading cards with fun facts on the back (Sample: A Flamingo’s eye is larger than its brain!)  I wish I’d stolen two!

            Even better is the hot pink tampon, a bargain at a quarter, which advises me: Of all the girls in  the world he chose you, now drink the shake! The exhibit continues until July 5.   (Photo: After all these years, Blair’s tampon stands poised to clog the third floor toilet once again.)

LIKE APPLE PIE

There’s a large, shady garden on top of the Hotel Chelsea, complete with flowers, bushes, and fully grown trees, one of which has taken root in the roof itself, sending its roots down into the apartment below.  The garden is surrounded by a brick wall, insulating this idyllic retreat from the swelter and commotion of the city below.  Over the top of the wall you can see the top of the empire state building and the other tall buildings uptown.

On the evening of last year's Gay Pride Parade, a couple of the Chelsea people, two men who lived together in one of the hotel’s more lavish suites, gave a party in the garden.  They had hung some rainbow-colored balloons, but besides that it was just the usual Chelsea party, with, by and large, the usual Chelsea denizens.

The gay guys of the Chelsea Hotel are not the buff Chelsea Boys you hear so much about.  Any actual, self-respecting Chelsea Boy wouldn’t be caught dead here.  The Chelsea Hotel boys are more flamboyant, artistic, fabulous; whatever their age, they dress more like old time gays, in lavender jackets, cravats, fedoras, things like that.  There were even a couple of drag queens, Chelsea Girls.  One man, tall and thin, with a lined, weathered face, wore a pink seersucker suit.

The lesbians at the party were, by and large, girls next door (looking like boys next door), in jeans and t-shirts, though one of them wore a retro polka dot dress and had a beehive hairdo.

There was lots of liquor, and lots of food: one table filled with fancy, catered appetizer platters, another with potato salad and coleslaw, and burgers and hotdogs to throw on the grill.  My girlfriend and I talked to our friends, got drunk, and then, as the sun was setting, slipped away from the party to explore other areas of the roof, higher levels toward the rear, where the purple sky, and Greenwich Village, it’s streets alive with the gay pride revelers, spread out before us in a panorama.

When we came back, everyone was finishing up their food, and it was time for the desert.  A heavy-set, husky woman, butch, in flannel shirt with hacked-off blond hair, brought out a platter containing the dinner’s piece de resistance: three cakes in the shape of round, white tits, C-cups, approximately, with delicate pink nipples set enticingly on top. Smiling, she showed the cakes around the crowd proudly.  The tits were coated with a glazed, hard shell of icing, making the confection seem more like candy, rather than cake.  They looked mouth watering, almost too pretty to touch.

Finally, after everybody had had a good look at them, they were placed upon a table, a knife was produced, and everyone gathered around as the blond butch dyke cut into them.

And, lo and behold, they were green inside!  The tits were filled with a green gel of some sort.  Everybody was surprised.  “Oh, they must be Irish tits!” the guy in the seersucker exclaimed.

The blond woman glared at him, and looked him up and down in disgust.  “These are American Tits,” she said, crossly.

            The man in the seersucker was too frightened to say anything.  He just stood there for an uncomfortable moment with his mouth agape.

Finally, as the woman turned her attention back to the cake, the seersucker turned away, and, making his escape, rolled his eyes and remarked in a low voice, “Yeah, tits on a plate, real American!” (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

All Tomorrow's Parties: June 26 - July 2, 2006

Monday, June 26, 8:00 - 3:00 p.m.
After all of that marching yesterday you may be in the mood for a message.  Check your clothes, grab a cocktail, and give or get a message.  It happens each and every Monday.
Serena's in the basement of the Hotel Chelsea, 222 W. 23rd St., NY NY

Tuesday, June 27, 8:00 p.m.
Tonight's your last chance to catch Penny Arcade in a limited performance of BDFW. Penny performed in "A Quite Evening with Sid & Nancy," which was staged here at the hotel in 1989.  Parkside Lounge, 317 East Houston, NY NY

Tuesday, June 27, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny invite you to Happy Valley Tuesdays. DJ Tommie Sunshine. SHOW: JONTE DANCE TROUPE Hosts: Sophia Lamar, Miranda Moondust, Kim Aviance, Theodora and Amanda Lepore.
14 East 27th St., NY NY

Wednesday, June 28, various times
The much praised documentary "Leonard Cohen I'm your Man," is now showing in a limited engagement run. The film takes places primarily during a Leonard Cohen tribute concert. Cohen does talk about his time at the Chelsea Hotel, "everybody was there," he says. Just like now! He also expresses regret at having identified Janis Joplin as the woman in his famous song, "Chelsea Hotel." The film's website. The director's blog. Film Forum, 209 West Houston, NY NY

Thursday, June 29, 11:00 - 12:00 a.m.
Gerald Busby interviews poet Maggie Paley on his weekly Internet radio show, Collaborations.

Saturday, July 1, 9:00 - 5:00
A signed copy of William Burroughs's White Subway is among the many volumes to be sold at the Friend of the C.H. Booth Library Annual Book Sale. According to the library,  “[A]n edition of 1000 copies of which twenty five, perfect bound, have been signed and numbered by the author.”  Signed on title.  Considerable underlining and marginal comment, most in pencil but some in ink.  $200.00. A 1894 volume of Pudd’nhead Wilson by former Hotel Chelsea guest, Samuel Clemens is also for sale.
Friends of the C.H. Booth Library Annual Book Sale, Reed Intermediate School, 3Trades Lane, Newton, CT.

If you have an event you would like to have posted on All Tomorrow's Parties please e-mail info to [email protected]

Chelsea Hotel News Roundup

Time to round up the news.

Victor Bockris tells us why Keith Richards climbed a palm tree.

David Remfry was elected a member of the Royal Academy of Arts at a General Assembly meeting of Royal Academicians on 2 June 2006.

Bailey Bartsch Barton makes it into Michael Musto's Village Voice column.

Sally Singer comments on the popularity of longer shorts this season.

Sparkle Hayter highly recommends "Iran Awakening From Prison to Peace Prize: One Woman's Struggle at the Crossroads of History," which she recently reviewed.

Michael Rips and his family were featured in Travel+Leisure.

Ed Hamilton had a short story published in the June issue of No Umbrella.

Dereck Walcott was honored by Oxford University.

Herbert Gentry at the Parish Gallery

For those of us who weren’t able to make the opening of  "Six of Six," a group show which features five paintings by Herbert Gentry, Washington D.C. photographer and blog reader, Elvert Barnes, has come to our rescue.  Upon learning about the exhibit, he stopped by the Parish Gallery and took a few photos of Mr. Gentry’s paintings, including the photo on the left. Mr. Gentry’s work is on display until July 18. 

Not surprisingly, while at the exhibit, Elvert ran into another fellow, Fred Rotondaro, who was eager to share his memories of the Chelsea Hotel. "Immediately, Mr. Rotondaro would reflect on his memories of the Chelsea Hotel, when in the 60's he attended NYU and if my memories serves me correctly dated several girls who stayed at the Hotel Chelsea. Or, perhaps, it was more that, when dating several girls he and they would visit the hotel together."  We're waiting for Elvert to get the rest of the story!

Storme Delarverié Takes To The Stage Again

           June is Gay Pride month.  In New York, as in cities across the country, gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals, and their friends will be marching in support of tolerance and diversity.  It was in this spirit that my girlfriend and I attended Kings and Queens of New York City: A Drag Summit at the Bruno Walter Auditorium of the New York Public Library.  Besides the—in retrospect predictable—obstruction of our sightlines (see photo), it was an enjoyable and interesting afternoon.
            Sadly, the summit took place against the backdrop of the recent beating of drag superstar Kevin Aviance as he left a club in the East Village. As one of the panelists pointed out, this sort of thing happens all the time to members of the LGBT community; the only reason this incident made the news is because Aviance is famous.
            Though the word “summit” connotes the lofty and unapproachable, the event was anything but that.  And in fact it allowed the daytime people in the audience an all too rare opportunity to come into contact with the human face of drag.  The moderator, Joe E. Jeffries of New York University, presented a slideshow on the history of drag from the ancient Greeks to the present (highlight: the governor of  New York from 1702-1708, Lord Cornwall, was rumored to have dressed in drag), and then introduced the panelists.  The luminaries on the panel included the drag kings Stormé Delarverié, Murray Hill, and DIYAA, and the drag queens Flawless Sabrina, Sade Pendavis, and Taylor Mac.  The discussion was punctuated by performances by DIYAA, Taylor Mac, and, in what proved to be the highlight of the afternoon, a moving rendition of John Lennon’s “Imagine” by the powerfully-voiced diva Sade Pendavis.
            The Chelsea Hotel connection is Stormé Delarverié, a husky 86-year-old former cross-dressing torch singer and one of the sweetest old ladies you’re ever likely to meet—though one you’d sure as hell better not cross.  In the lobby of the Chelsea before the summit, Debbie Martin spoke with her, explaining that our blog readers wanted to hear her story.
         “I’ve got a story!” Stormé exclaimed, “I chopped off my hair, put on men’s clothes, and joined the Jewel Box Review!”  The Jewel Box Review was a multi-racial drag revue that toured the country in the fifties, sixties and seventies.  The only female member of the troupe, Stormé served as stage manager, musical arranger, emcee and “mother” of the troupe for fourteen years.

            “But you’re an important activist, too,” Debbie reminded her.  “Could you tell us about your role in the Stonewall rebellion?”

            “They ask me, why do you want to be a target like that?” Stormé said, referring to her leadership role in the gay rights struggle.  “They’ll stab you in the back, they’ll hit you, they’ll shoot you.”  She paused to reflect and then said, “But honey, they’re all dead, and I’m still here!”

            All of the panelists had tales of struggle and violence--ironic and troubling in the lives of such gentle people--but they had overcome this adversity, in part, by transforming themselves.  DIYAA said she had chosen to wear men’s clothes because of the feeling of power they gave her.

            As the teenage thugs were beating Kevin Aviance, one of the things they reportedly yelled at him was, “You’re not diesel!”  In the question and answer session of the summit, someone asked if anyone understood this remark.  All of the panelists on stage were mystified.  They were all a bit too old—as was I—to get the reference.  But a younger woman in the audience stood up to explain that what they were referring to was in fact the Diesel clothing brand.  They were saying, in effect, that Aviance wasn’t butch enough to wear the brand of clothing he was wearing at the time, a brand that for these young men signified a certain macho lifestyle.  And how ridiculous to be beaten because of a brand!  Even more so than a hate crime, this was a crime of ignorance and stupidity.

            It’s tempting to say that these were just kids who didn’t know any better.  But am I the only one who notices a disturbing parallel between these young men’s defense of the integrity of a brand—a corporate brand that can take care of itself--and the conservatives renewed interest in banning same sex marriage via a constitutional amendment?  These teenagers didn’t come by their ideas in a vacuum.

            Still, the fact that the Drag Summit took place at a public library is not insignificant.  Outside of the ignorant and backward, and the politicians who seek to exploit these people, drag and homosexuality are becoming increasingly understood and accepted.  Nonconformity is rightly seen as something not to fear but to celebrate.  As Flawless Sabrina says, “If you’re not living an alternative life style these days, you’re in danger of becoming a mystery guest in your own life.”

Ed Hamilton

Eileen Myles Stops By The Chelsea

Eileen Myles is the author of numerous books, including our favorite, "Chelsea Girls."  The title story in the book begins with the narrator going on a date with her girlfriend and ends with her enjoying a steamy romp here at the Hotel Chelsea with a waitress she met that evening.  Luckily, she only has to go down two flights of stairs (from the 8th floor to the 6th floor) to get to her job the next morning--fixing toast for the poet James Schuyler.

What was the inspiration for your book "Chelsea Girls?"
I had been looking at French new wave films since the 60s and was moved by Truffaut's Antoine Donell character and wanted to write a female character who we would follow from childhood through adulthood in a succession of stories. Chelsea Girls is a novel in the form of stories that does just that.
Do you have a personal connection with the Chelsea Hotel?
I was the assistant to the poet James Schuyler who lived in the Chelsea Hotel for the last 11 or so years of his life. For about half a year I worked for him seven days a week then intermittently and a friendship developed. I wrote a story about that time and called the story Chelsea Girls which became the title of my book. (Photo: James Schuyler in his room at the Chelsea.)
Do you think there is a creative energy in the Hotel?
There's obviously a history that particularly people who are new to  New York find exciting.

What creative people at the Chelsea or elsewhere have influenced your development as a writer?  James Schuyler.

What’s your favorite Hotel Chelsea story? The one I wrote.

Are you working on any new projects?

Sure. I have just finished a novel called The Inferno/a poet's novel which is about becoming a writer. Particularly it's about the hell of becoming a female writer. Jimmy S. who I mentioned and the time I knew him also figures in this new book.

Foosing at the Chelsea

When we're not busy blogging Bohemia, our room becomes a frat boy bar.  The skull on the foosball table belongs to Thomas Wolfe. We found it in the basement along with his size 13 shoes.

Julia Calfee has been photographing the Chelsea residents over the past three years.  We're hoping we look weird and edgy enough to make it into her book. (Maybe the skull will help.) Click on the image to enlarge.

   

TRIVIA MASTER OF FLORENT STUMPED

            Florent was in the Meat Packing District before it was cool—or really when it was a lot cooler, before the neighborhood was taken over by Sex-in-the-City wannabees.  The food is always great there (get the Moules Frites), as is the atmosphere.  Ask for a table outside and watch the sun set.
            Lots of famous people come into Florent, so it’s kind of like the Hotel Chelsea in that respect.  When we’re there, we always play a celebrity trivia game with our waiter, the tall and urbane Josiah (author of The Unauthorized Donna Summers.)  In the past, he’s always been able to figure out our questions, but recently we stumped him.
            “There was an actor checking into the Chelsea a couple of weeks ago,” I said.  “I was waiting for the elevator and he kept staring at me like I was supposed to acknowledge his presence.  But I was way too cool for that.  He has a new hit TV show.  About southerners, I think, or anyway about some kind of trailer trash.”
            I thought this one was going to be easy, but Josiah stared at me blankly.  “He used to be a skateboard champ,” I said.  “But now he’s a scientologist.  He was in the papers recently because he named his child something crazy.  Let’s see, ah, Pilot Inspector.  That’s it.”
            “I like the name,” Josiah said, “but I have no idea.”
            “You, know, that Earl guy from My Name is Earl.”
            “You’ll have to tell me.”
            “Jason Lee,” I said.
            Josiah still didn’t know who he was.  “A Chinese man?” he asked.
            “No,” I said.  “Finally, we stumped you!”
            Josiah didn’t like the sound of that.  “I don’t watch TV anymore,” he said.  “It’s too engaging.”
            Josiah went away for awhile, presumably to attend to his tables inside.  But when he came back he immediately announced, triumphantly, “I asked all the waiters in this restaurant and all the cooks, and no one knows who Jason Lee is!”
            The implication was that this was too obscure a question, and therefore illegitimate.  “Uh, it’s a very popular show,” I said defensively.
            “You must watch a lot of TV,” Josiah said. (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

All Tomorrow's Parties: June 19 - 25, 2006

Tuesday, June 20, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny invite you to Happy Valley Tuesdays.  DJ Larry Tee. Show: Daisy Spurs. Hosts: Sophia Lamar, Miranda Moondust, Theodora and Amanda Lepore.
14 East 27th St., NY NY

Wednesday, June 21, 12:00 - 6:00 p.m.
"SIX of SIX," Parish Gallerys 15th year anniversary exhibition, is a group show which includes work by painter Herbert Gentry.  Mr. Gentry moved into the Chelsea Hotel in 1970 and lived here until a couple of years before he died in 2003.  The exhibit runs through July 18, 2006.
Parish Gallery, 1054 Canal Square, Georgetown, Washington DC

Thursday, June 22
Previews begin today at Christie's for Warhol memorabilia that is being sold by his nephews, who were given the items as gifts by their uncle. Along with Andy's wigs, the lots include the paint-spattered Ferragamo shoes ($800-$1,200) shown in the photo.
Christie's, 20 Rockefeller Plaza, NY NY


Friday, June 23, 7:00 - 11:00 p.m.
All Female Art Exhibition featuring five female artists working in the graffiti and street art realms: Queen Andrea, Toofly, former Chelsea Girl BlairWear, Daina Higgins, and gmo$. Opening Reception.
The Showroom Gallery, 117 2nd Ave., 2nd Floor, NY NY

Saturday, June 24, 2:00 p.m. & Sunday, June 25, 2:00 p.m.
Lolita, 1962. Outwitting the censors, Kubrick turned Vladimir Nabokov’s classic study of a professor’s obsession with a young “nymphet” into a dark social comedy pitting Peter Sellers’ eccentric Claire Quilty against James Mason’s romantic Humbert Humbert.
Museum of the Moving Image, 35 Avenue at 36th St., Astoria Queens

Sunday, June 25th, 12pm-end (Moment of Silence: 2pm)
Gay Pride March.  Florent is one of the honorary Grand Marshalls this year. Watch for the blue cadillac filled with members of the Stonewall Veterans Association and wave to Chelsea's own, Storme DeLarverie. Legend has it that Storme threw the first punch at the Stonewall Riot in June 1969.
5th Avenue and 52nd Street to Christopher and Greenwich Streets

If you have an event you would like featured on the blog please e-mail the details to [email protected]

FATHER'S DAY by George Chemeche

FATHER’S DAY

My father is a hard-boiled soldier.

He adores battles, strives for medals,

fights in the Gulf and in Babylonia.

He prizes bombshells,

gathers explosive memorabilia.

My father loves my mother.

My mother is a blond bombshell:

memorable and dynamite.

in pictures and flesh.

She is the talk of Astoria.

Copyright, George Chemeche 2006

Follow George's lead and send us some content. We are open to anything and everything about the Chelsea Hotel and the Chelsea neighborhood.  If you have fiction, non-fiction, poetry, photographs or art work relevant to the hotel or its environ, send these along via e-mail (preferably) or by other means.  If you are a current or former resident with an event to promote, send us the details.  If you have ever stayed at the hotel and would like to be interviewed on your stay via e-mail, let us know.  We would also like to receive reviews of the hotel, good or bad (grievances and gossip are fair game), as well as reviews of any work by Chelsea residents past or present.  Reviews of area restaurants or places of interest would also be acceptable.  Though we don’t have any restrictions on length, it’s a good idea to keep these things relatively short, as they are supposed to be blog posts, after all.  But if you have something long, we might be able to post an excerpt with a link to the rest of the piece.  [email protected]

Robert Shaw Adds His Two Cents

Hearty congratulations on your well deserved write up in the NYT.  I was glad to see the ambiguity as to whether Sid was the stabber of Nancy included, it really is very hard to conclude that it was him with any certainty.  I started writing on it but I couldn't bear the Sid & Nancy energy around me.  I grew up a bit prejudiced because we came very much from the Britpunk line as kids and Nancy as hag / witch was received wisdom.  [Ramones were the exception on US punk].  A new influence in my life has forced me to reconsider that, they were two very fucked up kids in over their heads.  I won't make heroes of them, regardless.  To me, it seems a shame that they take limelight from the creativity that the Hotel should be recognised for.

My own theory is that Rockets Redglare was the real culprit.  Some suggest a failed suicide, that makes no sense.   If you're interested I can dig into my library further but, at the heart of it, the evidence suggests Sid wasn't even strong enough to deliver the blows.  A further complication is the supposed confession.  Sid's comments are clearly ironic to me ["yes, I killed her, I'm a dirty dog"] but I learned very quickly last year that one should use irony sparingly in America.  It's all but a default mode in Australian English.  There's some base info here http://www.theviciousfiles.co.uk/frame1.html including some not pretty pics of dead Nancy in rm 100.  How come they got a private bathroom and you have to share with visitors- I'd be demanding explanations!

Robert "Carrie Bedsore" Shaw

Warren Allen Smith's Two Cents

After reading Lisa Chamberlain’s article about our blog in the New York Times, Warren Allen Smith wrote in to  comment on the piece.  And though his letter doesn’t have too much to do with what was written in the article, he at least has something interesting to say about Arthur C. Clarke, so here’s his letter:

For the record, the most recent plaque – for Sir Arthur C. Clarke – was not placed there by his publishers, which some have assumed.  On his last visit to the hotel, he remarked to me that he thought he might have found a plaque out front, stating a little sadly that he had written 2001 there.  Telephoning Stanley Bard in 2002, I found that it would not be easy to work with the publishers concerning choosing the wording and deciding who would pay for such a plaque. 

So Stanley gave me the go-ahead, Arthur approved my wording, and I paid for the plaque which was made by North Shore Monuments in Brookville, NY.  Arthur was particularly pleased that I’d arranged for HAL’s logo and had included the novel’s memorable words, “I’m sorry, Dave. I can’t do that.” 

He suggested that Arthur Miller might attend the dedication ceremony, but Miller wrote me, “I’m afraid I’m so preoccupied with two new plays coming into production that for me to spend an hour in front of the Chelsea Hotel is more than I can comfortably visualize. I was acquainted with Arthur Clarke way back in the sixties for a brief period and much appreciated his work. Give him my regards."

Stanley and I. along with sci-fi admirer Jimi Zhivago, dedicated the plaque on 29 September 2004.

Of the Chelsea, Clarke wrote biographer Neil McAleer and me that

Out of hundreds of memories over the last quarter-century, here are a few that come to mind:

-      Using Norman Mailer as subject for the very first roll (yes, roll!) of Polaroid I ever shot.
-      From the roof at night, zapping pedestrians on 23rd Street with a laser. They would be hypnotised by the brilliant crimson spot burning on the sidewalk, and by moving it around I could control them like puppets on a string. (That was back in the 60s; now that everyone has seen lasers, it wouldn't work.)
-      Having dinner with Edith and Clifford Irving at the height of the Howard Hughes caper and, during the meal, watching a character who claimed to be H.H. being interviewed on TV. He was completely wrapped up in bandages, just like Claude Rains in The Invisible Man; when forcibly unwound, he proved to be Mel Brooks (I think; if he wasn't, he should have been).

• I must stop; this is making me homesick. . . . But by an unexpected turn of fate, I'll be calling at 222 West 23rd in just two months time, while promoting the sequel to a certain book I wrote in Room 1008. See you all then. . . .                    Colombo, Sri Lanka, 1982 Sept 6
  
  Further for the record, Arthur (now 88 1/2, 4 years my senior) has not been in communication for a long time and has not been in good physical condition for several years.
  
  Warren Allen Smith
  http://wasm.us
  http://philosopedia.org

Happy Birthday Stanley Bard

Our esteemed proprietor turns 72 today.  The man dressed in a hot pink gorilla suit handing out balloons and singing happy birthday off key was a nice touch.  Update -- A generous Hotel Chelsea guest has sent us a link to a video of the birthday event!

Kings and Queens of New York City: A Drag Summit

Saturday, June 17, 2006, 4:00 pm
Kings and Queens of New York City: A Drag Summit -- Bringing together some of drag’s best known names and legends including Storme DeLarverie, Flawless Sabrina, Murray Hill, Sade Pendavis, DIYAA (f.k.a. Dred), and Taylor Mac (plus special surprise appearances) this trans-generational congress, moderated by drag historian Joe E. Jeffreys, reflects on the legacy of drag in the city as it considers its changing faces, places, fashions and future. A multi-media discussion, performance event, installation and exhibit exploring male and female impersonation in New York City, the gathered audience will constitute a living history of drag performance in NYC and further extend the panel’s discussion and reflections. Display cases of drag ephemera from the library’s collection will be on display outside the auditorium.
Bruno Walter Auditorium, New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, 40 Lincoln Center Plaza (Rear Entrance Suggested—111 Amsterdam Avenue), New York City, NY
Admission: Free. Dress: Optional.  For information call (212) 642-0142  Seating first come first served.  (Seating starts at 3:30)  (via craigslist)

Tourist of the Week: Randi Marx

Randi Marx has a long and deep felt connection with the Chelsea vibe.  In the 80's, she published an alternative newspaper "23rd Street," which featured interviews with members of the bands that she loved, including The Ramones and The Sex Pistols.  Now, she's busy painting images of the Chelsea.

What do you do?
I'm an artist

When did you stay at the Chelsea?
My first visit was way back in the summer of 1981. My last visit was October 9-15, 2005.  It rained and rained and rained ohmigod, I thought it would never stop...then I tried to find the symbolism in it, and I figured out how water symbolizes the subconscious.   I paint colors flowing in liquid all the time, and I'm a water sign.  I don't know exactly what it all means, but it was a wonderful thought at the time.

What brought you to the Chelsea?
Sid, Nancy, and Dee Dee Ramone

When you last visited, had things changed drastically from the first time you visited?
Yes. And no.  First big change I noticed were the big black and white checked tiles in the halls were gone.  The lobby was a different color.  The furniture was different.  The big glass over the desk gone.  The phone booths were still there, the elevators were cleaner but in the same places. The lobby-to-first-floor stairwell still there.  The big black heavy doors were still in the middle hallways, most of them, I think were the same doors.  I hated that scaffolding all over the outside.  I even notice the dry cleaners is still across the street!  And I loved the art store was right across the street. I don't remember that being there before.  Sitting in the lobby, it felt different, which I didn't like at first. But later, it got better.  However, being deep within the heart, in the halls, it felt the same.

Do you think the Chelsea Hotel has a creative spirit?
I think some of the people who are creative bring the spirit into the hotel and it is receptive.  Being there opens some people up, the ones who believe and plug in.  But it's a two-way street.  Just going there isn't going to give you anything you don't already have.

How has the hotel influenced your art?
It didn't until last year.  Now I draw the halls--the extra color and flavor I feel in the halls.  I'm trying to capture that.  I'm very surprised at the outcome.  I can't help but credit the Chelsea in helping me...the Chelsea and my Guides who are/were there.

What's the best/worst thing that has happened to you at the Chelsea?
I've actually only had good things happen.  I guess the worst thing would be when I have to pay Stanley the bill!! Yeow.

Now That We’re Paying For It, Can We Touch The Art

            When we ran a piece about art hotels recently, a publicist (I assume) from a hotel in Louisville, my former hometown, wrote to make sure we knew about the art hotel there.  He or she wanted us to know that theirs was not one of those phony, faux-bohemian art hotels I was ridiculing, but rather an authentic, one-of-a-kind, honest-to-goodness art hotel.
            Well, of course they all say that.  The publicist didn’t seem to get the point of my piece.  I wasn’t making fun of these places because they claim to be phony Chelsea Hotels, with their art admittedly dumbed down for the masses.  I was making fun of them because they claim to be the real deal.
            The hotel in question is called, in a supreme flight of imaginative brainstorming, 21C Museum Hotel, and the name itself tells you pretty much all you need to know about the place: there will be art of some sort in the lobby, and in the restaurant, and much cheaper art in the rooms.
            The June issue of Travel + Leisure Magazine included an instructive article that discussed the funding of the hotel and it tipped me off to what may be driving this new trend.  Basically, if you call your business a “museum,” that means it’s a charitable institution of some sort, right?  Now I’m no expert on such things, but it seems that, somehow or other, the financial risk involved in starting such a “business” is bound to be considerably lessened, probably at tax-payer expense.
            So, after all, maybe it’s less consumer demand than “owner demand” that’s at work here.  Judging from the number of starving artists living in the Chelsea, I didn’t think that there were that many people actually interested in art. 
            The owner of the 21C is a guy named Steve Wilson, described as a philanthropist and art collector.  He and his wife, Laura Lee Brown—whose family sells liquor—have apparently donated their Ten-million dollar art collection to the hotel, er, museum.  Usually, when rich people donate art to museums, they write it off on their taxes.  Though the article makes it hard to tell if that’s what’s happening here, it does say that, “Historic preservation tax credits helped offset some of the cost, and the city pitched in a $1.7 million starter grant.”
            I think our illustrious proprietor, Stanley Bard, would be well advised look into this angle.  Change the name of this place to the Chelsea Museum and we’re in business!  Or out of business.  Whatever.  And then he can give us a break on our rent!
            Anyway, this 21C hotel scam is part of Louisville’s latest efforts to revitalize its downtown ghost town.  In the seventies they had the River City Mall, then in the eighties they had the Galleria, and now it’s the Cast Iron District, or whatever they call it.  The first two schemes worked for awhile and then the novelty wore off, and the latest scheme is doomed to end up the same.  Revitalization, if it ever comes, is going to come from the bottom up, with people of all income levels living and working downtown.  They should have given Wilson $1.7 million to start an all-night deli. (Check out the cutting edge performance art.) Ed Hamilton

Capitol Fishing Tackle Co. Moving

Last month we heard rumors that the fishing store was moving.  Today's issue of the New York Post sheds some light on the reason for the move.  "Chelsea Hotel's shareholders also want to create one large retail unit."  The store has been at this location for over 35 years. (Photo: forgotten-ny.com)  Elvert Barnes has some recent photos on his site.

Eloise at the Chelsea

In the following list, choose the item that doesn’t belong: Plaza, St. Moritz, Sherry-Netherland, Pierre, Ritz-Carlton, Regency, Carlyle, Hotel Chelsea.
     I just read an article in Travel+Leisure magazine that purports to be searching for real-life Eloises – you know, kids who grew up in hotels. The Plaza had Eloise, and we had, who, Sid?  As you might suspect it’s an article about people who are so rich and spoiled they make you long for the return of Robespierre, and it’s humorous to see denizens of the Hotel Chelsea mentioned in the same context.
     Amenities you can expect from a luxury residential hotel include: 24 hour room serivce, house phones, valet service, shoe shines & mini-bars!  Well, we do have phones at the Chelsea. Ask Stanley Bard about room service and he'll tell you that the best deli in all of Manhattan is two doors down.
     The lawyer/author Michael Rips and his family are profiled as typical Chelsea Hotel residents.  Our favorite part of the story was when his daughter, Nicolaia, was once assigned to do a paper on the British Sculptor Andy Goldsworthy, he sent her down to the lobby to do research.  Amazingly, she was not abducted and sold into white slavery, but came back with pages of notes.
     When describing how he go into the Chelsea, Michael says he needed a recommendation.  Most of us get by with a note from our psychiatrist.  "We all represent different aspects of Stanley's mind," he says.  I knew I was in somebody's dream, I just always thought it was my own. (Ed Hamilton)

No Room for Stanley Bard's Long Lost Son

The two desk clerks were laughing when I came in, though one of them, Morgan, was laughing the loudest.  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Henry just said a transvestite came in last night and said he was Stanley Bard’s son,” Morgan said.

When I heard that I cracked up too.

“So what did he look like?” Morgan asked Henry.

“He was tall,” Henry said, indicating with his hand. 

“Was he dressed in women’s clothes?” Morgan asked. 

“No, but he had on all the makeup and everything.” 

“Did he look like Stanley ?” I asked.
          Henry seemed to be tiring of the interrogation.  “Well, he was the same color.”

“I wouldn’t just dismiss it out of hand,” I said.

“Yeah, you never can tell what kind of weird shit goes on around this place,” Morgan said.  “You’d have to get a DNA test to rule it out.”

“He didn’t have one of those,” Henry said, irritably.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just David?” I asked, naming Stanley’s actual, known son.
          “No!  I know what David looks like!”

“So did you give him a room?” I asked. 

“Joe talked to him.  He was going to rent him one, but I guess he didn’t like the price, so he went away.”

“I’m gonna call Joe right now and ask him about this!” Morgan exclaimed, snatching up the phone.

I didn’t wait around to hear from Joe.  “Hard to believe you can’t even get a decent rate when you’re the owner’s son,” I said.  (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

All Tomorrow's Parties: June 12 - 18, 2006

Tuesday, June 13, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch & Kenny Kenny invite you to Happy Valley Tuesday.
14 East 27th St. NY NY

Wednesday & Thursday, June 14 & 15, 8:00 p.m.
Rufus Wainwright will revisit Judy Garland's legendary 1961 concert at Carnegie Hall. In an earlier interview Rufus talks about living at the Chelsea -- "One of my best friends in the world lived there and still lives there, which is, his name is Zaldi. He's not known that well in the music world, but in the fashion world, he's very well known, he designs all of Gwen Steffani's dresses and he's this amazing character that's very well known in New York. Also the Ramone that died was living there, the one that just died of an overdose, I can't remember his name. Not Joey, he died after Joey. The one with the grey hair. He was there. The interesting way that I got into the hotel, was that I was living with Leonard Cohen's daughter, Lorca in LA and we both came to New York together and we both stayed in the Chelsea, and she turned to me one day and said, 'You know, my Dad lived here for a long time', and I said, 'Oh really', and she said, 'Maybe you should live here, we should go talk to the manager.' So I went down with her and said, 'This is Leonard's daughter, her Dad lived here,' and that was sort of an 'in' to get in..."   Carnegie Hall, 57th St., & 7th Ave., NY NY

Wednesday, June 14, 7:00 p.m.
Burlesque Room Productions offers an exclusive night at Serena Bar & Lounge. Party alongside with some of the most attractive women and men NYC has to offer. The infamous duo DJ THIS AND DJ THAT (The Loathesome couple) will be spinning originals throughout the night to get everyone going-80's/Electronica/Ambient/Trip Hop.
Serenas, Underneath The Chelsea Hotel, 222 West 23rd NY NY

Thursday, June 15, Two sets...7:30 and 10:00
SUIT & Anders Bramsen will be taking part in the Little Fury Things Records show at Monkeytown.
SUIT -- Nathan Howe and Roland Toledo met while studying Urban Design/Landscape Architecture in Pennsylvania, while exchanging presentation techniques of glamorized landscapes. And that’s exactly what their music sounds like!  Anders Bramsen will be providing three short videos for SUIT.  Bramsen's work spews forth from situations where personal isolation, surreal fantasies, adventures, violence and aggressive rawness conspire together.
MonkeyTown, 58 N 3rd St, (btw. Kent & Wythe), Williamsburg, Brooklyn $5

Tuesday - Friday 11:00 AM - 6:00 PM, Saturday 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM
Robert Mapplethorpe/Andy Warhol: Celebrity Portraits gives us an opportunity to juxtapose the artists' portraits of each other, as well as both artists' images of celebrities such as Grace Jones, Keith Haring, Deborah Harry, Roy Lichtenstein, Francesco Clemente and Truman Capote.
Sean Kelly Gallery, 528 West 29th St., NY NY

Sunday, June 18, 7:00 p.m.
Anders Bramsen's short film "Le Mis Popote, (The Erroneous Earth Kitchen) will be screened.
Galapagos Art Space, 70 North 6th St., Williamsburg, Brooklyn

If you have an event you would like featured please e-mail [email protected]

Who Jumped Down The Stairwell?

Over on Flickr a recent visitor to the Hotel Chelsea recalls an intriguing conversation she had with one of our neighbors. don't jump! that's what the man said as i was taking this (photo). he lives at the chelsea. says two others have jumped. one was successful, the other not. 'he was a murderer and went to jail' said the man.

We too have heard that there have been several people to jump down the stairwell over the years.  We've identified one, Hugh Pearson who lived.  We heard a rumor that the club kid Michael Alig, who murdered Angel Melendez, was either pushed or jumped over the stairwell.  He lived, of course, so maybe he's the murderer.  If you have other guesses, send them in.

Stanley Bard Couldn't Have Dreamed This One Up

As you may know, our blog was profiled in The New York Times City Section this past Sunday. Teresa Klein from the Blog Business Summit was on top of the story, and called Stanley Bard to get his opinion on "Living with Legends."  Judging from his quote, we think Stanely is softening up on the notion of blogs and that he'll offer to buy the blog any day now!  We're reprinting the article below, with commentary where called for:

The Hotel Chelsea bills itself as “a rest stop for rare individuals.” The idiosyncratic hotel, which has been home to Mark Twain, Sarah Bernhardt, and Dylan Thomas among others, serves both long-term residents and short-term guests, and business is booming.

“We’re the busiest small hotel in the city,” Chelsea manager and owner Stanley Bard told me. “The whole world knows about us.”  (Stanley isn't kidding.  This blog has an international readership.  We're especially big in Europe.)

The hotel, which was built in 1884 as a cooperative apartment complex, entered the 21st century a year ago. That’s when long-term residents Debbie Martin and Ed Hamilton began working on Living with Legends, a blog about the Chelsea’s past and present. Now, that blog is bringing the hotel even more attention.

“I don’t know whether I want blogs or logs or what I’ve got here,” said Bard. “I just want nice people to come and stay at this hotel.” (That's what Stanley said to us recently: "I want some nice people to volunteer for a rent increase." Seriously, though, a lot of the nice people who stay here have blogs, and an even larger number read them.  Tourist's blogs have been a rich source of material for us.)

And while the venue is absolutely turning a profit, it’s not a marketing plan that makes it so successful. It’s the dedicated following, the characters and the history that keep people coming back. That’s why a blog is perfect for an establishment such as this.

And in this case, it’s probably even better for the Chelsea that the blog isn’t an official piece of the hotel’s business puzzle. Bard couldn’t have dreamed up a better marketing plan if he’d tried. After all, it’s the residents that make the Chelsea unique in all the world. (You got that right! That's what attracts people to the hotel: the fact that it's not a boring Holiday Inn.  Anyone coming to the Chelsea looking for standard accommodations is bound to be disappointed.)  (via blogbusinesssummit)

Valerie Solanas Back at the Chelsea, Sort of

Last year, on June 8, we interviewed Swedish author Sara Stridsberg.  Sara was passing through the Chelsea Hotel retracing the life of Valerie Solanas, the author of SCUM Manifesto and shooter of Andy Warhol, for a book that she was writing.  Each day, she would sit in the lobby for a couple of hours channeling Valerie and retyping the Manifesto.

Betinna, one of our neighbors, told us that Sara's book about Valerie is now available. A couple of Sara's friends recently stayed at the Chelsea and brought Betinna a copy of the book as a gift from the author. According to Betinna, the book has a chapter about the Chelsea.  Now, if  only we could find someone to translate for us.

Here's the interview.
What do you do?
I´m a writer and Malin Arnell is a visual artist. Right now we´re travelling in the footsteps of Valerie Solanas to celebrate her work.

Why did you choose to visit the Chelsea?
We´re staying at Chelsea hotel to retype her manifesto since she wrote it there 30 years ago.

Why did you choose to write a novel about Valerie Solanas?
The reason why I choose to write this novel about her is not clear to me. It started when I translated the manifesto into Swedish. I think that I was touched by the huge gap between the manifesto and her life, and also moved by the fundamental lack of connections with the "real" world in her life...  All I wanted to do was to to talk to her... the bitchy brilliant baglady...

What is your favorite Chelsea Hotel story?
That must be Valerie writing her brilliant manifesto in the hotel and being a pain in everybody´s ass in the lobby. She taught us everything about not being "Daddy´s Girls", even if we still very much are Daddy´s Girls.

Andrei Codrescu Visits the Chelsea

Well known author and NPR fixture Andrei Codrescu has been kind enough to send us a piece he read on the air a couple of years back.  We were struck by the extent to which its sensibility—a respect for the continuance of the past and its influence on the present and future—accorded with that of the blog.  Andrei’s Exquisite Corpse, a peerless journal of edgy and experimental writing, was one of the first magazines to publish Ed’s work, way back in 1993.

CHELSEA HOTEL NOTES
By Andrei Codrescu

     It was sleeting and evening was falling on West 23rd Street when Laura and I stepped out on the balcony of the Chelsea Hotel for a smoke. You can't smoke in New York anymore, but this is the Chelsea where poets die, Syd Vicious killed his girlfriend, the walls are covered by paintings artists left instead of payment, and smoke is what connects the stories.
     We watched a lit window on the second floor across the street. Old people kept arriving into  the frame, hanging up their coats and checking out their hair in an invisible mirror. A woman passed a comb quickly through a close-cropped silver top.
     “What do you s'ppose is going on?” asked Laura
     “Communist party meeting,” I said
     I don't know what made me say it, maybe the way the elders hung their coats, briskly, or the unaffected, efficient vanity.
     “They look well dressed, maybe it's a meeting of the theosophical society,” speculated Laura, “Rudolph Steiner people, maybe.”  (Photo - The Communist Building)
    So I had to find out. I put on my coat and dove through traffic. I walked right in the front door, went up the stairs -- and found a loud meeting hall full of close-jammed tables. There was a huge buffet and full bar, and a guy in Santa hat. A banner over a small stage said NO WAR FOR OIL. I walked up to a table covered with various items payable by “donation,” things like buttons of raised fists, and tee-shirts, one of which depicted Che Guevara and another the Young Communist League logo, "80 years of struggle" followed by a website address. Bingo. The Young Communist League was hosting a late Christmas dinner for old communists. They elders were having a mighty good time, arguing all the way from the buffet line to the table, keeping up what I imagine was a conversation that had started sometime in the 19th century - at about the same time the Chelsea Hotel began hosting bohemians.
     “Theosophists, nothing,” I told Laura, showing her a tee-shirt.
     She was impressed. We scanned the street. The YMCA on the corner (where Truman Capote set the start of “Answered Prayers,”) a dry cleaners, a tailor (“alterations”), a candy store, a fancy furniture designer, an organic juice bar, an old-fashioned beauty parlor. This was the heart of old Chelsea, the Chelsea still here, being quickly surrounded by the new, ultra-chic art scene escaping from the prices of Soho real estate. It was the ten or so seconds between worlds, the old one hanging up its coat, the new one putting up its feet. Old commies and bohemians never say die, except when they do, and then they only do it literally. The conversation keeps going. Some of the elders looked like they'd fought in the Spanish Civil War and some of the Chelsea Hotel residents were surely veterans of the culture wars - a lot of casualties but no letup in the utopia biz.
    The wintry street telescoped through history like a metaphysical strudel. Outside the meeting hall, some of the elders were smoking.

All Things Considered, Feb. 3, 2003.

Something Like An Eternal Debate

I was talking to the painter Michael Bell and the poet Sheryl Rubenstein at the party for the one-year anniversary of our Chelsea blog.  The New York light, orange at sunset, was streaming in through the west-facing window, much the same as it would have seventy years before when Thomas Wolfe lived in this very room. (Photo from Lisa Chamberlain's Flickr set)

There was a reporter from the New York Times at the party, taking notes.  “It’s nice that someone is finally paying attention to all this,” Michael said with a sweep of his arm, “all this creativity going on around here.”

United in our thankless plight, we all agreed that it was patently unfair, this misunderstood toiling in obscurity that we seemed doomed to endure.

“Who do you think has it worse,” Sheryl asked, “writers or artists?”

“Well,”  I said, “at least people don’t think they could just crank out a painting like they think they could sit down and write a novel if they felt like it.”

But Michael said, “Oh, yes they do.  They think they can just throw down paint.  They don’t think there’s anything at all to color theory or technique.”

“But it’s so much more obvious that you’re creating something,” I protested.  “An object of beauty.  I know damn well I could never paint anything.  But people use language every day, and they probably figure their office memos are just as good as anything I write.”

I thought Sheryl would back me up, but strangely, she agreed with Michael.  “They especially say that about abstracts,” she said.  “When they see one they say, Oh, if you like that you should see what my child paints!”

“Yes, but that’s almost a cliché,” I said.  “People have been saying that for years.  But these days, of course, they’re joking.”

“I don’t think so,” Sheryl said, and she and Robert both chuckled.  I was facing right into the streaming light.  I could scarcely make out Michael and Sheryl’s faces for the glare.  I saw merely their dark silhouettes: they were shaking their heads back and forth in unison.  I broke out in a sweat, less from the sun’s heat than from the realization that they were right.

I sighed.  “You know, there was a lady in the lobby saying that very same thing just the other day,” I said.  “I don’t think it was your painting, Michael, but maybe it was Philip Taffe’s.  Besides that, she was a nice lady, from North Carolina, a tourist of course.  And now I’m feeling really bad about this.  Because I just burst out laughing right in her face.”  (Ed Hamilton, 2006)