John Rechy and Charles Bukowski, 1973.
http://www.gerardmalanga.com/hires/0061.jpg
The Black Sparrow press also published Gerard Malanga.
http://www.gerardmalanga.com/hires/0061.jpg
The Black Sparrow press also published Gerard Malanga.
Unknown Bukowski pictures? (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Ponder
- Start date
Gerard K H Love
Appreciate your friends
Is this Gerard Malanga?
This one is from the same site too.
There are pictures of Mick Jagger, Roman Polanski, Iggy Pop, Salvador Dali, and about 15 of Andy Warhol in that collection. The velvet underground. Truman Capote.
This one is from the same site too.
There are pictures of Mick Jagger, Roman Polanski, Iggy Pop, Salvador Dali, and about 15 of Andy Warhol in that collection. The velvet underground. Truman Capote.
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
It is strange. On his website, it implies that he shot photographs of the 1939 NY world's Fair, but he was not born until 1943? Also, some of his photos are clearly from the 30's or 40's. This may be a matter of him having bought the copyright to those photos, but he is selling them.
Gerard, The photo above Buk on your post does look like Gerard Malanga.
Bill
Gerard, The photo above Buk on your post does look like Gerard Malanga.
Bill
Father Luke
Founding member
And this one, Rekrab?
http://www.gerardmalanga.com/hires/0061.jpg
http://www.gerardmalanga.com/hires/0061.jpg
My new desk-top background! Thanks!
Loged out, saw the background- had to log back in to say, THANX! Honest to God, this is one of the greatest pictures of Bukowski that I have ever seen! Awesome!!! CRB:):):)
Who is the Dandy? In fact, just discovered, it is John Rechy. Any like his writing? I'm off to find some.
This picture makes me laugh. Buk can deal with queers. I'm a poof and, despite my self-loathing, it's good to know even Bukowski knew that the human soul was 'above' all that judgemental shite, despite the fact we are all judgment cunts.
God bless the whole fucked up human world.
This picture makes me laugh. Buk can deal with queers. I'm a poof and, despite my self-loathing, it's good to know even Bukowski knew that the human soul was 'above' all that judgemental shite, despite the fact we are all judgment cunts.
God bless the whole fucked up human world.
I'm not sure I've seen this picture before.
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JB8SAkOJoEo/Sf9jTRX1WII/AAAAAAAAAQQ/FzsFYUxBKFg/s200/Snapshot:Bukowski
You?
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JB8SAkOJoEo/Sf9jTRX1WII/AAAAAAAAAQQ/FzsFYUxBKFg/s200/Snapshot:Bukowski
You?
I've got that Buk pic on a pin badge.
I have checked these. They are definitely not the same series.
(The shirt looks similar, but he has no watch and no beard on these.)
mjp 's idea looks promising. But both those pics are too small to compare the details. Does anyone have bigger scans?
When I went through the pics, I also found another one, that could match with the one in question. I will scan it on Monady.
You think so?
It looks more like an early seventies picture to me.
Taken by Brad Darby or so...
I just went back to the site where I found the snapshot.
http://ldanz.blogspot.com/
Losing things happens all the time. For years I could not put my finger on where I had stored my collection of letters from the writer and poet Charles Bukowski. It was the fall of 1972 when I reached San Francisco in my cross-country escape and I went directly to City Lights bookstore. Whatever I could afford I took down from the shelves, poets who were new to me especially. Among them was a collection of poems by Bukowski: The Days Run Away Like Horses Over the Hills, published by Black Sparrow Press in 1969. My driving companion and I took turns reading the poems aloud as we made our way back to New York bolstered by bottles of Henry McKenna and white tablets with little crosses engraved on them that made you feel very, shall we say, awake. I found a few more of Bukowski's books in New York but had to hunt for them. I wrote to him care of the publisher, John Martin and only signed with my last name. I think I had already had a good sense of the volatile chemical reaction he'd had with women. He wrote back with a post office box return. I wrote, revealing my full name and he wrote again, finally including his home address on Carleton Way in Los Angeles.
We continued our written correspondence for a little over a year and my collection of more than 50 letters from him was passed around at many wild and drunken evenings in my apartment for the artists and writers and weirdoes who passed through my life. To my mind, I thought I had, at some point, recognized their value and stashed the letters away somewhere safe because I did have copies of the letters. But periodic searches in the apartment revealed no trace of them. At least I still had the copies. I resigned myself to their loss.
After I left, or rather lost my job in the corporate world I saw the field becoming rockier and rockier (re: younger and younger) and then impossible to navigate. I thought about how I could earn money quickly. I knew a woman of a certain age...er...mine, someone who also fancies herself a writer and had, like me, been unceremoniously dumped from magazine publishing. She had entertained the notion of becoming a dominatrix and she once gifted me with a tightly braided leather whip that so freaked me out I never brought up the subject again. The Mister was never on board with the idea anyway.
One night I recalled a line from one of Buk's letters, about how I should never give up my art; if times got tough his letters might bring cash someday. I was determined to find those letters. The Mister and I pulled out every drawer, emptied every closet, and dug through piles of photos and papers stashed into suitcases. Spent and disappointed I was just about to give in when a basket full of letters from my friend Rauda, a writer in Paris, kind of glowed from under the little desk in the front room. I reached into the lot of them and plucked out a letter from Bukowski, mixed in with her correspondence. I had found the very one I was looking for, the bulk of the collection, in fact. A few of them sold quite well and got us across a financial crevasse.
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Yes it looked like Bukowski in his Carlton Way days to me. Or maybe when he was out getting lost 'in the wild' while visiting Linda King's sisters :D
roni's looks like it was taken in San Pedro.
bospress.net
www.bospress.net
Very sad. That must have been near the end.
Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
The photo was taken at Marina's wedding.
Black Swan
Abord the Yorikke!
Yeah, scaly!
this photo is in Linda King's new book.
The back of it states "1964". I looks a bit like being from the same series as these:
My wild guess would be New Orleans.
