Hey BD, want to know how to sucessfully manage the Chelsea Hotel? Listen to the man who was able to manage the hotel for 50 years. (Video interview with Stanley Bard originally shown at the Museum of the City of New York 4/4/08)
Pianist and singer/songwriter Adam Rushfield, who goes by the professional name of Jaz Jericho, comes from a long line of musical talent: his great grandfather banged singer Sophie Tucker! When we met with Adam in his tiny room/music studio recently, he played us a tape of longtime resident 87-year-
old Stormé DeLarverié belting out an old standard, "Since I Fell For You," her voice still as impressive as in her heyday in the 50s and 60s, husky, evocative, and powerful.
Of course we immediately asked Adam if we could share Stormé's song with our blog readers, but it turns out he wants to keep it under wraps for awhile, as he is working on a song cycle partially revolving around the remarkable recording. (The work will delve into the lives and lore of Chelsea residents as well as other stories.) He played us a couple of pieces on his piano and they expertly evoked the dysfunctional family dynamic of the Chelsea.
I was born in Okinawa, Japan in 1979. I grew up in Las Vegas, where I lived from the time I was six months old. It's a very comfortable place to live, but not easy for a musician unless you play cover tunes and don't care if people listen to you or not. Everybody wants to get out, but nobody does anything about it. But by this point in my life I was ready to go, I needed a change. Some of my friends who were musicians moved to LA, but that wasn't for me. I visited NY three years ago and something about it just grabbed me.
Just from folklore and movies and books and then later through my work in music. When my friend and I visited NY it was too expensive to stay here the whole week, but on our last night we walked in to check the place out and the guys at the front desk were really cool and offered us a discount, so we decided to stay one night. We rode up in the elevator with Rene Ricard, of all people. He was carrying an envelope and he opened it and showed us that there was a knife inside. He said, jokingly, that we'd better not be up to no good. If we were here to steal the art, we'd have to answer to him. That was when I knew I had to move to the Chelsea.
My Dad's a musician. He plays in a 50s and 60s rock band. So I grew up around all kinds of music. My great grandfather played in a big band, and banged singer Sophie Tucker. That's his claim to fame.
Bowie, Beatles, Motown, everything. In college I was a musical theatre major, and I'd like to write musicals someday. Or maybe not, since they're so cheesy. Rock Operas, really, that's what I'd like to write.
I called Stanleyfrom Vegas and told him I was thinking of coming to New York soon, and asked if he had any rooms available. He said not right now but just let me know when you're on your way and I'm sure we can find something for you. I called him when I crossed the Mississippi. When I got here he brought me right up to this room and I took it, the first one he showed me. It was pretty expensive and he was charging me by the night, as a transient guest ($75/night, plus hotel tax), but he said he'd try to get my rent down, and he did lower it at one point, right before he left ($70/night, plus tax). I believe that he would have eventually offered me an affordable, permanent, monthly rate.
At that point he was forced out by the minority shareholders and BD Hotels took over. What did BD say about your rent?
They still tried to charge me the high rate. I said I had been here long enough to be considered a permanent tenant and I was being illegally overcharged and they needed to reduce my rent, but they refused to listen to my arguments. I decided not to pay until the courts could resolve the issue. Though I 
kind of feel like I was cheated out of my full Chelsea experience since Stanley's no longer around, I plan to get as much as I can out of what's left of it.
Well, I think the Chelsea has spoiled me, so no place else in New York would do. Maybe the Lower East Side, but everything's too expensive anyway. I have some friends living in Providence so maybe I'll crash with them for awhile. There's a pretty cool art's scene there, with lots of space in all the abandoned factory buildings. The Chelsea is a place where I can just relax and be, and I know it's not going to be easy for me to recreate that vibe somewhere else.
Withholding his rent allowed Adam to buy some time at the Chelsea, time well spent, it turns out, as he has been using it to soak up the inspirational atmosphere and transform it into music. I accompanied him to Housing Court on Wednesday, Dec 12, hoping I could at least offer moral support. He met with BD's lawyer and they negotiated a deal whereby Adam will be given an affordable rent through the end of February, at which time he will be expected to leave the hotel. So, while it certainly wasn't an ideal result, at least it will make a full year that Adam has lived at the Chelsea. We'll be sorry to lose Adam, as he seems a perfect fit for the Chelsea, with his respect for the history of the hotel, coupled with a forward-looking creative impetus to celebrate and reinvigorate that tradition. On the other hand, he's not gone yet--and no one knows what the situation at the Chelsea will be in two months. -- Ed Hamilton
As a Drummer and Drum Builder to the stars, Johnny Craviotto has been involved in the music business 
for nearly half a century. He began his professional playing career in the early 1960s and quickly progressed to touring and performing with such rock-and-roll legends as Ry Cooter, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Moby Grape, and Neil Young.
Legends: How’d you get interested in drums?
Johnny: My mother was a pianist, so there was always music in our house. By the time I was 12 I knew I wanted to be a drummer.
Legends: How did you hear about the Chelsea Hotel?
Johnny: I was jamming with some hippy guys and one of the guitar players knew Buffy Sainte-Marie. They had run into her on the beach in Hawaii. Buffy wanted to go from being a solo performer to having a trio, so during the first week of November 1968 I flew to New York for an audition with her. I auditioned for Buffy at the Chelsea on a stack of New York City phonebooks with sticks and brushes. She said, “It sounds great. You’re hired.”
Legends: How’d you score your room at the Chelsea?
Johnny: Before we moved to New York we had gone to the Fillmore in San Francisco to see Rod Stewart and while we were at the concert our car was broken into and all of our bags and stuff were stolen. We then got on a 2 a.m. flight to New York. When we arrived, Stanley Bard was in the lobby. I told him, “we’ve got no money and no clothes.” He looked at us kind of funny, as if to say, “You mean to tell me you came to New York with no money and no clothes?” But he gave us a room. I went straight out of the mountains of Santa Cruz to 23rd Street and the famous Chelsea Hotel.
Legends: Can you describe the Vibe of the Hotel at the time?
Johnny: We moved into the Chelsea in Jan 1, 1969. Holy Moses! I can’t even begin to describe the vibe in 
the lobby. It was really rock & roll. There would be a surprise every time you got off of the elevator. You’d find Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin hanging out, or the Grateful Dead just sitting around in the lobby. I think the owners of the Fillmore East had a deal with the Chelsea whereby they put up the musicians at the hotel when they came to New York to perform. Anyway, I hope these new people don’t try to modernize the lobby. Can’t you guys say “NO MALL in this joint!” (Photo: Janis Joplin at the Fillmore East in 1968)
Legends: We’ve heard that Leonard Cohen drove everybody crazy with all his incense. Do you know anything about this?
Johnny: Buffy Sainte-Marie set us up in a room with a kitchenette & a fireplace right next door to Leonard. And yes, now that you mention it, he did burn a lot of incense. I didn’t know who Leonard Cohen was from Adam when Marie introduced me to him. After I got to know him, one time he took me to a Turkish coffee shop. You had to climb three flights up the fire escape and go through the window to get inside. There were all of these little 
old Turkish guys sitting around smoking and drinking some really strong espresso.
Legends: Did you get to Hobnob with any other celebrities?
Johnny: I was 21 or 22 years old and everything was like a whirlwind. Honey, I saw Joe Crocker & The Grease Band the very first time he ever performed in the U.S. That was at Stephen Paul’s The Scene. I went to a lot of jazz clubs. Slugs in the East Village and the Village Vanguard were great. Vanguard Studios was next door to El Quixote and that was where everybody went to record. (Maynard Solomon was the owner) So that accounted for a lot of the musicians hanging out at the Chelsea. We used to go down to El Quixote and get drunk. How’s the Sangria these days? Is it still as good as it used to be? [Editor’s note: yeah, it’s holding up pretty well] (Photo: Jimi Hendrix at the Fillmore East in 1968)
Legends: How has the Chelsea changed since you lived here?
Johnny: We moved out of the Chelsea when Buffy went to LA to record a semi-rock album with Jack 
Nitzsche, the guy the Rolling Stones’ song “Jumping Jack Flash” is about. We moved back to the Chelsea in 1971, and though it was still great, I didn’t see Leonard around anymore. We did a lot of concerts upstate and in Europe, but the Chelsea was always our homebase. But once the Fillmore East closed, the vibe at the Chelsea changed. It wasn’t as vibrant a place for musicians to hang out. After the Fillmore closed you stopped seeing people like the Allman brothers in the lobby. Soon, Buffy wanted to go in a different direction, so I moved back to the Sunset Marquee in LA [Editor’s Note: another famous rock & roll hotel] and that was the end of the Chelsea for me. I’ve never been back since. I went on to work with Ry Cooter on his first solo album. He was demanding, but a great artist.
Buffy Sainte Marie performs her hit "Universal Soldier" in 1970.
Joe, Casebeer & Tosh booked their room back in April before the despicable hostile takeover of the hotel. In other words, the reason they wanted to come to the hotel was for the Bard family and the Chelsea Hotel family, not for the 99 cent Internet room specials that BD is promoting to drive up the short-term occupancy rate. When they found out about the take over they didn’t know whether to come to the hotel or not because they certainly didn’t want to be seen as supporting BD in any way. They decided to come on anyway and show their support for the Bards. Since they are peaceful folks torches and pitchforks were out of the question. These great tee-shirts are what they came up with.Leave it to the Chelsea tourists to find a creative solution. (Some residents may recognize this family as they lived here at the Hotel in 2000 & 2001. Joe is a musician and Casebeer is a painter. Be sure to welcome them home.) 
(Photo: Tosh, Casebeer & Joe check in to the Hotel wearing their "Bring Back the Bards" tee-shirts designed by Casebeer. Click through to read their fascinating story!)
Continue reading "Family Values: Creativity, Anti-Gentrification and Rockin’ Tee Shirts" »
In a sporty rhinestone t-shirt, bandana and black jacket, author Julia Bell betrayed her punk rock roots. Her first two novels were marketed as YA (Young Adult), and dealt with, respectively, eating disorders and 
sex trafficking, but the one she’s working on now will break that mold: it’s about creative writing and literary snobbery. Julia teaches at Birkbeck College of the University of London which was originally founded as a working man’s college. She’s visiting America on a sabbatical, earned after 10 years of teaching and 3 years of tenure. But even after such unexampled drudgery she appears to be enjoying herself in America, spending most of her vacation sabbatical in the mellower climes of San Francisco, but coming east to meet the American publishers of her second novel, Dirty Work, the one about sex trafficking. They are “correcting” the English spelling to accord with American usage, so that we TV-watching Yanks can read it without fear of befuddlement. Over dinner at the El Quijote, we didn’t get a chance to ask Julia that many questions, but she told us a lot of stories. I guess that’s why she became a writer: lots of stories to tell. (Photo: Ed immediately becomes attached to Julia's book.)
What was your biggest surprise about New York? The size of it. I knew it was big, but the physical reality of it is another story. It’s much bigger than I expected. But the vibe of New York is much the same as London. The last time I came to America, they didn’t even tell me my novel had been published here. I saw it in City Lights in San Francisco. They had done the deal a year earlier, and my agent had lost it under the couch or something. Now I’ve got a new agent and it’s a better experience. This time I’m doing it up right, meeting people, shaking hands. It was a real treat to meet my publishers on Fifth Avenue I took a boat tour around the city today. The gap in the skyline where the twin towers stood was very noticeable. It made me very emotional, though I didn’t think it would. I think it was the experience of actually seeing the site that did it. Seeing it on TV is just not quite the same.
I also visited Harlem, with all its amazing old brownstones, some blocks neglected, and others gentrified. The same thing is happening in London, with the gentrification. Starbucks will open two stores, one on each end of the block, and run an Italian café out of business. That’s what we have instead of diner in London. All the cafés are run by Italians.
My visit coincided with Queen Elizabeth’s. So another surprising thing was watching on TV as George Bush winked at her. It was absurd! You don’t wink at the Queen!
How did you learn about the Chelsea? I knew about Dylan Thomas since I’m Welsh. I had also heard about it through punk rock: Sid and the Ramones. I thought at least it would be unlike a Holiday Inn. I had also heard about Stanley, but when I got here I was pleasantly surprised to see him working the desk. I 
told him I was an author and showed him my book. He was very friendly. I also told him I was going to interview with you guys for the blog. When I showed him my reservation he said, “Oh, you booked a room through the web, so you got a bad one. I’ll give you a better deal, but the next time call and talk to somebody in person.” [Ed. Note: she booked through Travelocity. Stanley did indeed give her a pretty good room, so be sure to mention the blog when checking in!] He showed me the London Times article, and seemed very proud of it, but he wouldn’t let me hold the magazine. Some body stole his other copy, he said, and this was his last one. I also met the other guy, Jerry, and he said, “I talked to your publishers and they said your book was going to sell well.” That’s what I like about New Yorkers, they have a good sense of humor. Not like the people in San Francisco, who are sometimes rather slow on the uptake when you make a joke. Which reminds me, I’ve been in San Franciscoso long that when Stanley gave me my key, I said, “Thanks, dude.” He gave me quite a priceless look. I don’t imagine he’s used to being called dude very much. Kind of like winking at the Queen, now that I think of it!
You’ve been in America too long. But don’t worry, Stanley has been called worse than that.
But what about your views on literature? Do you think creative writing can be taught? Yes, I think it can be, but only if you concern yourself with the mechanics, and don’t focus so much on the subject matter. You have to provide a non-competitive, non-judgmental, cooperative environment. If you do that, you can give people a vehicle to express whatever they want. When I did my MA at East Anglia, I learned nothing, since it was too competitive. The instructors were unhelpful. I remember a course I took with the famous poet Andrew Motian: he would read your paper and hardly even comment on it, and when he did it would be something trivial, like, “don’t use a comma here.” It was a nasty, bitter environment. Everyone thought they were going to get the booker prize, and then the reality set in that not everyone was going to publish. It was a prime example of how not to run a writing program. I keep it in mind, so I can be sure to provide a more open, accepting environment where I teach at Birkbeck.
Oh, I might mention that my offices are at Bloomsbury, in the same place that Leonard and Virginia Wolfe and Lyton Strachey lived. It’s no longer housing; it’s now university rooms, but we have the same view as they did. I’m attracted to places such as this, with a literary history. The Chelsea is the same sort of place.
Do you think the Chelsea has a special creative energy? Certainly there’s an atmosphere unlike anywhere else. There are an extraordinary number of people walking through the lobby that I feel I’d like to know, or at least talk to. Another strange thing about the Chelsea is that I lose my sense of direction every time I step out of the hotel. I always get the idea it faces downtown, so I’ll walk the wrong way. I think it must be some kind of vortex in the space/time continuum.
That’s what we always say! Hey, have you been reading the blog? Yes, I must confess, I have. Well, that doesn’t change the paranormal reality of the situation.
What do you think of the Star Lounge in the basement of the Chelsea? I read your review, and I’m sure their “stars” are just the little dweebs from the latest crap Indie band that no one will remember in two months.
We forgot to ask Julia if she witnessed any sex trafficking during her stay at the Chelsea. And actually, now that I think about it, it would have been interesting to discuss her new novel! That shows you how swift we are. After our dinner at El Quijote, Julia sat in the lobby for awhile and ran into one of our resident celebrities, Stormé DeLarverié, and together they stood outside and made fun of the costumes of the dweebs entering the Star Lounge.
The British painter David Remfry is justly famous for his delicate watercolor renderings of dancers in the act of dancing. His paintings are for the most part an upbeat, optimistic celebration of the vitality of life, and we were able to view several of his large, life-size canvases in what seems like their natural setting of 
his high-ceilinged, light-drenched studio at the Chelsea.
Among his many honors, we were most curious about one in particular: his status as a knight of the British Empire. David says he hasn’t actually, technically, been knighted, just made a “Member of the British Empire,” which is one of the orders of knighthood. But we’re Americans, and so can’t be expected to know the difference. All we know is that the Queen showed up in person to confer the honor, and so we are duly impressed.
As we were sitting down to talk with David, we noticed a small portrait of another famous British queen, the Naked Civil Servant 
Yes, I did, though I didn’t live here at the same time, and I knew him before that too. I was teaching a drawing class in London about 35 years ago, when I saw his picture in a book of available models. I hired him and painted him. He was a good model: he adopted impossible poses, but was able to hold them. Years later, when I had a studio on 26th Street, I called him at the Chelsea Hotel and asked him if he remembered me and if he’d like to sit for me again. He said sure, on the condition that I buy him lunch. Quentin loved New York. He felt that everything is better here: the people are beautiful, and he could be flamboyantly gay and no one would bother him. I used to take him to the Empire Diner on 10th Avenue. He was very frail and elderly by that point. A woman name Bea Lyons used to play standards on the piano there, and one time she came to our table and asked Quentin if he had any requests. “Yes, I’d rather you didn’t play,” he said. The poor woman’s face fell when she heard that. “I don’t mean to be unkind,” Quentin said, “but I just don’t like music.”
Tell us about your childhood. How did you become interested in painting?
Do I have to? I was born in Sussex, England, then after that my family moved to Calcutta, India for a time. I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember. Even from early childhood, I said I was going to become an artist. I could simply think of nothing elsea I wanted to do. No one in my family was an artist; I had no role model. My parents never even took me to a museum. It was all in my mind. I was completely self-motivated.
Watercolor is considered a whooses medium. The watercolorists of the 17th and 18th century are unsurpassed, and besides, oil paint smells good. I trained in oil, but got into water by accident. What 
happened was that I contracted a viral illness called a sarcoid, and as a result developed the most chronic form of arthritis. I couldn’t paint for 8 to 9 months; all I could do were little drawings. But then this guy from LA called and said he wanted to do a show. I did a mental calculation of what Americans were like and it didn’t include patience, so I decided not to mention my illness. All I could do to was work in watercolor, which is less strenuous. After that I was hooked. It runs away with you. I like the fact that lots of accidents happen in watercolor: runs and drips. When I moved to New York, I started to produce larger works. People here aren’t afraid of scale. You see that sign on my wall? [David points to a small bumper sticker that says “Say Yes”.] I keep that there for inspiration. It’s a very American sentiment. (Photo: David with his painting of Amy, the daytime phone operator.)
Tell us about your interest in dancing.
It’s a terrific vehicle to get people embracing, and a great metaphor for life and all kinds of things. Principally for life—we often speak of the Dance of Life—but there is also the Dance Macabre, the Dance 
of Death. Most of my work is upbeat, though when I lived in England it was a bit darker. Club life in England is more violent than it is here, especially in the north of London. [Ed. Note: David’s painting that hangs in the lobby represents a scene form a club in England.]
Lately, I’ve been sketching in a place called the Triangular, which is a tango bar. The Roseland used to be terrific, but I no longer go there. Often I get people to dance here in my studio, which has proved fairly easy to do. I pay people if I can, a small amount. I feel people should get something, though of course I’m getting much more. If they don’t want money, sometimes I’ll promise them a drawing, though in the end I might not want to part with it. I’d rather just pay them. (Photo: David's painting of a few former residents.)
Yes. A friend of mine named Patrick Hughes—he’s the artist who painted the oil of rainbows over the elevator in the lobby--lived here for 4 years in the 80s. He said, “Don’t ever say I recommended it to you!” I called Stanley and he said he didn’t take reservations, but we should just show up and he’d see what they had. Caroline and I showed up at 10 at night with 18 pieces of luggage. This was in 1995. Caroline, who is Irish, won a green card on the lottery, and so there was no reason to go back. I got my green card much later through more traditional channels.
It’s certainly very conducive to creativity. I can see how people could be sidetracked by the energy, but I’ve never been happier. It’s hard to say whether living at the Chelsea has affected my direction or output. People ask me how they can become a painter and I must confess I’m at a loss as to how to respond to that. I’ve always had the motivation to paint, no matter where I’ve lived.
I don’t see either. My interactions are more in the spirit of a passing camaraderie. I run into the the painter Robert Lambert and the poet David Lintner downstairs and we have exchanges from time to time, teasing each other and such. It’s not unlike a village. You can engage if you want, but you don’t have to.
What was it like painting Bonnie [the night telephone operator]?
She didn’t dance, she just stood there. But she has the most extraordinary face. She said, “Better be quick, because I have an exploratory operation coming up.” Sure enough, one day she didn’t show up for our appointment. Caroline and I went to visit her often in St. Vincent’s. While she was unconscious, the nurse said her feet were starting to turn in, so I bought her a pair of converse in gaudy colors so her feet 
could have some support.
On the night of the fire [that gutted Bonnie’s room] we were on our way to the restaurant Beppe. We could smell the fire and we meant to call from the restaurant and see if everything was OK but we forgot. When we got back to the hotel we ran into [the photographer] Julia Calfee, wringing her hands and saying Bonnie’s killing herself with alcohol in El Quijote. We went up to our apartment and found that the firemen had smashed in the door. Luckily they hadn’t sprayed any water in the apartment, since I had several of my canvasses stored there. After securing the apartment, we went down to the El Quijote and comforted Bonnie. (Photo: David with his painting of Bonnie, the former night time phone operater.)
Dee Dee Ramone. I tried to anyway. He wouldn’t be still for long. When he had had enough, he told me to come downstairs and look at a painting he had done himself. When he opened his door the smell of acetone hit me so hard I had to take a step back. I don’t know what he had been doing in there! He had been gone for two hours, so the room should have aired out. He had painted a sort of rendering of the hotel. [Ed. Note: This was the painting that Dee Dee did for his novel, Chelsea Horror Hotel
One time Dee Dee was coming down the stairs screaming at the top of his lungs at Stanley Bard, and Stanley turns around and says, “Dee Dee, why are you yelling?” And then Dee Dee started whispering.
Another time, Dee Dee told me that he was mad at his next door neighbor [Ed. Note: luckily, not us!] and so he poured honey under his door in order to attract roaches.
[Ed. Note: as mentioned above, it was, technically, another sort of honor, but why quibble?] Someone called me and asked if I would reject the honor if offered. I said, no, of course not. I stood before the Queen together with a bunch of people who were far more worthy than I. It’s nonsense, it means nothing, but as long as you’re aware of that it’s great. My father attended the ceremony, which took place a few years before his death, and I believe he was rather proud.
No, I’ve gotten lazy, and now I just go to the gym.
For our interview, Mikkel Astrup wears a futuristic black vinyl track suit. He has two favorite art works in the lobby: the Chelsea Dogs, and Robert Lambert’s painting of the man feeding the chickens. A Samuel Beckett scholar, when Mikkel discusses his discipline, most of what he says is rather hard to follow (which is probably inevitable given the notorious opacity of Beckett), much less transcribe, but I managed to get a bit of it down, hopefully without misrepresenting Mikkel’s thought too egregiously.
I’m from Oslo, Norway and I’m a research fellow at the University of Oslo. I’m working on my PhD. dissertation on Beckett and sickness. My field may be described as Literary Theory, or Cultural Theory. I work with doctors and psychoanalysts, discussing the relationship between literature and health, the arts and medicine. I am also interested in Beckett’s relation to Abstract Expressionism.
Is this your first time at the Chelsea?
Yes. I usually stay with friends when I come to New York, but I thought I’d try the Chelsea this time. I had heard about the Chelsea from some people who had stayed here long ago, and I wanted to see if it was the same as they said it was, with all the creative people. I found that this was still the case. It is exciting, a good place to work, and very central. I have been spending my days doing a lot of writing.
How would you describe the atmosphere of the Chelsea? There is an atmosphere of creative freedom which is permissive, yet discrete. One is not stifled or oppressed here. But at the same time I can blend in and do my work and not be distracted by the festivities. In the lobby I feel like part of the furniture. I can go there when I’m stuck in my work and get unstuck. People here can have a relation that is a sort of non-relation that I find liberating.
What is Beckett’s connection to New York? New York is not directly connected to Beckett. I came here to learn about contemporary art. I’ve been going to museums and galleries and events for two months. I wanted to understand all aspects of the art world, especially the financial situation, the distribution networks, the hype, and the potential pratfalls.
Did Beckett ever stay at the Chelsea? I’m pretty sure he didn’t. He only came to New York one time, to make a movie about perception, Film, with Buster Keaton. He said of the United States: “This place is too weird. I’m going back to Europe.” [Editors Note: Ha!]
What is Beckett’s relation to abstract art? His biographical relation to the Abstract Expressionists is quite boring. He looked at them to learn production strategies that he could transfer to his own writing. Theoretically, they are important to his quest to abstract a language expressing levels of human organization that can’t be perceived directly.
What artists has Beckett influenced? Bruce Nauman, Damien Hirst, and especially Frank Stella. Among Chelsea Hotel residents, I know that Burroughs was very interested in Beckett, though Beckett did not think Burroughs’ work was important.
Could you describe your project?
I’m trying to expand the notion of health beyond that of physical and psychiatric illness. There is also pragmatic illness, which is a reaction to certain forces, and can be brought more to the forefront of the health discourse as a supplement to these other notions. I want to communicate to doctors and psychiatrists that their cure may not be the absolute cure. In some instances, the medical gaze can be replaced by the aesthetic gaze. In my study I employ all of Beckett’s major novels, from Murphy onwards, focusing on three important aspects of his fiction that can be brought to bear on this notion of changing paradigms of illness. These are: his non-progressive teleology, the shifting essence of his characters, and the fact that his characters have their own level of reality which doesn’t intersect with more common levels.
Has anything exciting or interesting happened to you here at the Chelsea? While working late one night in the lobby, I noticed the wide variety of people passing through the doors, and this transformed my way of looking at what is normal. Although I don’t have a very strict theoretical framework as to what constitutes normalcy, my practical view was previously somewhat constricted. It has now been broadened considerably.
Have you encountered any ghosts while you’ve been here?
No, those who encountered them must have been indulging in some illicit substance.
Diede In't Veld is the second student we've stumbled across in recent months who approached the Chelsea about shooting a project here, but couldn't afford the rates. Diede's film, "Sleeping in Chelsea" is about a businessman who discovers an ad in the paper that reads "Hotel Chelsea More than just a hotel, a place where you can live out your secret fantasies." Ok, we'll buy that. Then, imagine our shock when the businessman checks into the Chelsea Savoy down the block to experience his fantasies. People are always mistaking these other simarily named hotels--which seem to be so named deliberately in an attempt to create confusion -- for the Hotel Chelsea. This is surely a case of art imitating life. The film is NSFW.
Here's a short e-interview with the filmmaker.
How'd you get the idea for your film?
I got the idea from a short story in a magazine actually. It was a story about a guy mixing up two hotels. Because I wanted both hotels to be in the same street and have almost the same name we came to Chelsea.
Who are some of the filmmakers you admire and why? I admire David Lynch a lot. I love the mind-games he plays with the viewer an absurdistic way of telling a story. It always keeps me interested because in his stories litterly anything can happen. I love that.
Have you ever been to the famed Hotel Chelsea? Well the funny thing was that when we scouted the locations, I didn't know that the Chelsea hotel was so famous! Not until I went in and asked if we could shoot in a room for a night. It was a student film with a corresponding budget, so when he named the price I was kinda struck. I would have preferred to shoot the int. scenes there but that obviously was not an option for us. So we choose for the Chelsea Savoy to shoot which gave us more financial room.
First we didn't want to shoot with a permit for the External part, but I choose to get one because the street is a very much wanted location. That turned out to be a good decision because in that week there were 3 feature films shooting in that same street where we shot the next morning with a tiny crew and a small 16mm camera.
How would you describe the difference between the Savoy and the Hotel Chelsea? The hotels are incomparable. The Chelsea Savoy is a nice but simple hotel with really not anything special. The Chelsea is a whole different thing with the history and designs etc.
Do you think the Chelsea Savoy offers the services portrayed in your film?
Off course not... But I think it's a great fantasy for many men.
We've always wan
ted to learn German, but it just seemed like too much time and effort. Now we find that it wasn't that hard at all. Here we are, speaking fluent German on German Public Radio (download mp3), with nary a trace of an accent at all! Here's a picture of our instructor, Martina Buttler, who taught us all we know of the language in the course of a 25 minute interview. She's the best!
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Australian writer Robert J. Shaw (aka Cherry Ramone) was taken to see Paul Morrissey’s Flesh at age 14, when even he knew he was too young. Corrupted so early in life, is it any wonder he’s spent a 
lifetime studying all things Warhol? “I spent six hours at MOMA today,” Robert says as soon as he steps into our room. Three in front of Warhol’s gold Marilyn. Until they chased me away!” Robert remembers where he was when he heard the news of Andy’s passing. Sadly, however, Robert will miss the 20th Anniversary of Andy’s death—today—as he will be on a plane back to Australia and will cross the international date line. But it’s no big deal in the grand scheme of things: there are many more anniversaries to come, as Andy will live forever.
What do you do back in Australia? I’m a writer/journalist in the fields of pop culture and Australian history. I specialize in the Australian Federation, the Constitutional Era, and in comparative constitutional studies. [Editor’s note: More importantly, Robert also specializes in Andy Warhol, and he’s contributed much on the subject to our blog. We will try to limit further discussion of the Australian constitution.]
What brought you to NY? The Hotel Chelsea, art, people, pizza. My favorite pizza place is 33 down the street by the movie theatre. What do you love about the Chelsea? It represents a cultural history that I love. And the people are fantastic. The hotel is relaxed and has lots of art. And I like to see good New York friends again. I’m addicted to the Hotel Chelsea.
Do you know of any of the Australian artists associated with the hotel? Yeah, one of my favorite Aus
tralian artists with a Chelsea connection is Brett Whiteley. His daughter Arkie grew up here. I met Arkie in a dark corner of a nightclub, and we had a relationship until she died. I still maintain contact with Brett’s widow. My favorite happy story about Arkie is sitting on the lawn and talking at the Lavender Bay House. Brett always painted that house and he loved to paint the view of the harbor. I suppose I should also mention Vali Myers. It’s nice to walk in her footsteps. I recently went to see Brett’s sculpture behind the gallery of New South Wales. It’s the matches: one ready to burn and one burned out. I tried to photograph them but one of the matches had been removed for repairs. The burned one. They had previously been ravaged by cockatoos. I know that sounds very Australian.
Has the Chelsea changed since the last time you were here a few years back? It’s quieter. And one elevator is closer to being renovated. It’s really more the neighborhood that’s changing around it. And I’ve changed a lot too.
Have any of your favorite places closed? HoJos on Times Square. I’m also sad that I have to miss the screening of Chelsea Girls on Wednesday.
How did you develop an interest in the Warhol crowd? I was taken to see Morrissey’s FLESH when I was way too young. Soon after that I saw an exhibition at New South Wales of “Orange Disaster” (which is a silkscreen of an electric chair) and it was a spiritual experience. It moved me like no other art work I’ve ever seen. After that I read From A to B and Back Again: The Philosophy of Andy Warhol. I also found a rare first edition of Jean Stein’s Edie book. This was when I was about 14 in the early 1980s. Too young to be seeing FLESH. The Morrissey movie was a very confronting experience at that age. It was very in your face and I wasn’t ready for it. I ended up growing up with Joe Dellasandro in Hustler as a sexual archetype.
Does Your mother read the blog? Yes, she follows the HC blog so she’ll know what I’m talking about all of the time.
Who’s your Favorite superstar? Brigid Berlin, for her strength of personality and the loyalty she showed to Andy. I adore Jackie Curtis, Candy Darling and Holly Woodlawn as well. Read the Craig Highberger bio of Jackie Curtis. Craig is a really good guy. He set me up to meet Holly on Monday and said to give her a kiss from him. [Editor’s note: Holly was, unfortunately, a no-show. The event was in the Gershwin Hotel, however--that pale imitation of the Chelsea--so who can really blame her?]
What do you think of Nico? Never interested me. Second runner to Edie. Although I applaud the Velvet Underground.
What’s your favorite Chelsea Girls scene? Two of the most notable moments for me are Brigid Berlin shooting up and Nico crying. I saw Nico in Bryon Bay shortly before she died. She was a wasted remnant of herself.
What do you think about Sid and Nancy? I love sex pistols and what McLaren did, but I resent the fact that Sid & Nancy overshadow this Hotel so much. It gets under my skin. This is the first time I’ve had the guts to stop on their floor. Senseless nihilism is contrary to what punk is about.
What does punk mean to you? Willfully standing on the outside of the mainstream and throwing 
rocks at it. Being true to yourself. And wearing good Vivienne Westwood clothes. I consider my punk identify more central than my gay identity. This is a line that pisses people off. Both gay and punk people. Have you seen the new Vivienne Westwood store on 18th? No, but I’m off right now! Keep my credit card for me. Vivienne is very subversive. She’s one of the absolute heroes of the first wave of punk. Vivienne and Malcolm stayed here at the Chelsea on their first trip to New York and signed up The Dolls. This was well before the Sex Pistols.
Any recommendations for a good gay bar? Easy pickups at Rawhide on 8th. Try to catch Mimi Imfurst, a fabulous up and coming drag queen.
Have you encountered any ghosts during your stay here? The elevator made an unscheduled stop on the first floor for Nancy to hop on and scare this catholic boy. I don’t part with my rosary while I’m in this building. There were no creepy noises at night, but bloody noisy neighbors. And the electric sockets make a sizzling, crackling noise. I’ll probably be electrocuted. When we were in the basement looking for a chair I really felt there was a dark presence down there and I was keen to get out. None of the ghosts up here bother me. I’ve not sensed anything in the lobby at all. It’s too busy, too much of a public space. But I really don’t like the first floor at all.
What’s the best thing that’s happened to you here? I’ve gotten to know myself a lot better and met some wonderful people. I feel validated here. Whereas at home I feel like a real oddball, here I blend in. This is truly the only place in the world I’ve felt a real sense of belonging.
What do you feel about the people who check into the hotel to kill themselves? I can understand how they feel, since I often think I’d like to have my ashes scattered here. Still, I wish people wouldn’t do that.
What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you here? Having to pack up and leave. And chairs collapsing under me! Not getting my favorite room on this visit. Worst of all, I haven’t seen Stanley yet. I want a 10% discount on my bill because I haven’t been able to experience Stanley’s grumpiness. Jerry is much too cheerful.
How do you like the pink cupcake across the street? A disaster. Not even good kitsch. It should be pulled down and posted to Las Vegas. By the way, I’m intimidated by the size of American food. Do you think the Chelsea has a creative spirit? Absolutely, beyond doubt. It’s intangible, but it manifests itself in the way people interact. There’s always a feeling that something exciting is about to happen. All of the art about the place emboldens you to go ahead and do your thing as well.
How was your first experience with snow? I was praying, literally, to see snow in NY. On Tuesday night I saw my first flake on my glove in Times Square and looked at it in absolute wonderment. The next day there was an ice storm and I went out and walked around and got wet jeans and decided I’m glad to live in a Mediterranean climate. But Moma’s sculpture garden in the snow is absolutely beautiful. And to go out and be as miserable as everybody else made me feel like a real New Yorker. How will you celebrate the 20th Anniversary of Andy’s death? I won’t have it. I’ll be on a plane and I’ll cross the dateline and miss that day. It makes me a bit sad now that I think about it. I’ll drink a Coke and think about Andy’s famous quote about Coca Cola. I remember when I was in my shop cleaning up and I heard news of Andy’s death come over the radio. I screamed. I started crying and put a sign in the window saying closed out of respect for Andy Warhol. When my boss found out that I did this, I almost got sacked. I knew I would never meet Andy and because of that my life seemed just a little bit emptier.
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