The Chelsea Hotel community was saddened to learn of the passing of one of its own: artist, author, and poet George Chemeche, a resident of the hotel since 1971. Though we’d run into George a few times in the past year, he hadn’t had much to say—not that such was entirely unusual for him. We know that he had been in declining health for some time, and he died of heart failure on January 11, 2022.
Born in Basra, Iraq in 1932, George emigrated with his family to Israel in 1949 at age 14. He attended a kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee, and later the Avni Art School in Tel-Aviv. Taken under the wing by such illustrious patrons as Lady Fergusson, great niece of Lord Balfour, a former Prime Minister of England, and Baroness Alix de Rothschild, George traveled to Paris in 1959, where he was admitted to the prestigious Ecole Superieure des Beaux Arts. Not that he lived like royalty, by any means: renting a small Garret in Montparnasse, he frequented the bars and cafes when he wasn’t painting, living la vie de boheme. One wonders if his legendary beret and sandals date to that era, or if they were a later addition. (Those of you who want to know more about George’s fascinating life can check out Amanda Chemeche’s wonderful essay about her father in The Forward, June 21, 2020.)
George has told us of how he arrived at the Chelsea, intending to stay only a few days or weeks until he found a suitable studio, but how Stanley Bard, impressed by his art, convinced him to stay on at the hotel, renting him the large, unused space behind the check-in desk. Several years later, when Stanley needed the space back for offices, George made no bones about it, moving his canvasses to storage and doing his painting, from then on, in his large apartment upstairs.
Stanley wasn’t the only one impressed by George’s art, as his paintings are in the permanent collections of The Guggenheim, The Brooklyn Museum of Art, The Israel Museum, and The Denver Fine Art Museum to mention a few.
For many years, a large sculptural work by George was displayed prominently in the Chelsea Hotel lobby. Perhaps the day is coming when we’ll see its return.
Anyone who has had the good fortune to be invited to George’s apartment for dinner or drinks couldn’t help but be impressed by his awe-inspiring collection of African statuary. Less well known is that George was an authority on African art with several books to his credit, including: Ibijis: The Cult of the Yoruba Twin (5 Continents Editions); The Horse Rider in African Art (ACC Publishers); and Eshu: The Divine Trickster (ACC Publishers).
Finally, George was a published poet. In writing about his work for the back cover of his 2014 chapbook, When Gods Sneeze (Finishing Line Press), I commended his language for being, while often soaring, “always well-grounded in an earthy humor and good cheer.” Though I hadn’t looked at the book in a few years, when I picked it up today it fell open to one of my favorite of George’s poems, “The Tent”, which, as it concerns a journey, I’ll quote at some length:
I was a stranger among strangers,
an immigrant among thousands of immigrants,
a homeless boy sheltered in in a hollow tent,
a foreigner in a foreign land. . . .
I lost my sweet home to a gloomy tent,
my mother tongue to unfamiliar tongue,
my playful friends to unfriendly throng,
my hope to a hopeless reality,
my magic carpet to a sand floor. . . .
In a way George’s life was defined by journeys: first to Israel with his family, then to Paris, then to New York. While “The Tent” deals with loss and what’s left behind when we leave a place, other poems, such as the enchanting “Night in Casablanca” acknowledge the necessity of change, risk, and the ability to “sail free as far as your free mileages allow”:
In that Garden of Allah, where awesome lovers blossom,
a divine thought elated your soul.
You would rather be a sinner in a foreign land
Than a household saint, wholly shackled on both hands. . . .
George is survived by his daughter Amanda Chemeche.
[A Memorial Service is planned for March 2022.]
Photo by Amanda Chemeche.
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