This view was probably from somewhere close to Clive's Bar, where everyone waited for the ferry.
This photo is strictly for my own amusement...
The view from my father's studio into the front room. That may be me sitting on the steps, waiting for breakfast with El Gato...The finca (farm) where he lived for most of his years in Ibiza was outside of Sta. Eulalia. Over 600 years old, it was virtually inaccessible, since once you located its general vicinity, you had to walk the last 2 kilometers, straight up a rocky hill. I love the way he plays with perspective, always inserting his peculiar whimsy.
This was my father's studio. The beams overhead are made from a wood that is now extinct. Apparently, the more weight that was put on this wood, the harder it became. It was also resistant to rot and termites. The walls of the finca were very thick, and the windows very small, most with bars on them. Ibiza was invaded by just about everybody, so they knew how to batten-down.
Again, he's playing with perspective. This appears to be overlooking the old section of Ibizatown, where the streets are cobbled with stones older than Christ.
My father, whose name was Steve Ericsson, although he signed his paintings, "Steve II", was one of the few painters who actually recorded the lives of Ibethencos, the inhabitants of the island since the Inquisition, most of whom were either "conversos" (Jews who converted to Catholicism pretty much by force) or they were unrepentant Jews who concealed their Jewishness. Apparently, the inhabitants (who are said to be the 'original 13 families) did a brisk and lucrative trade in pirated goods. Perhaps by being a useful source of money for the ruling classes and the royals, they escaped some of the harshest persecution. However, most of them eventually became Catholic, although there are intriguing stories of synagogues existing under churches and a Catholic priest who held services on the Jewish Sabbath and said Catholic masses on Sunday.
This looks like it's the interior of Bar Estrella on the port. The Estrella was the place where everyone came for breakfast, so if you wanted to hook up with someone, leave a message, pick up your mail, or just be seen with the coolest of the cool, you showed up at the Estrella between 9 am and noon.
Just another gorgeous view in Ibizatown.
This is a view of my dad's finca from the courtyard. The rooftop where the woman is drying her hair is actually the patio/terrace outside of my bedroom. Every room was built on a different level, I assume to conform to the hillside. In the lower left, the ancient (but still working) bread oven was part of the out buildings where my father built an outhouse with a full septic tank. On the roof of the main house was a cistern that supplied us with fresh water. There was no electricity or running water. We bathed twice a day on the front patio with water we hauled from the well up the hill. Two buckets worked well - one that was hot, and one to cool that water. The only problem were the mosquito larva in the water, but I got over being queasy about them in the 95 degree days...
I loved it when my dad departed from his normal subject matter and ventured into an all-together different style. As you can see, he loved women...
Too bad this photo was so small, and the quality so poor, because this one has a great perspective of one of the bays in Ibizatown.
A tienda in Ibizatown.
I have no clue...
Typical hillside farm with stone walls that could be dissembled and reassembled as shepherds moved their herds. The twisted trees are ancient olive trees. Olive trees have relatively thin trunks so it takes hundreds of years for their trunks to become so wide.
Ibiza has a tremendously varied landscape for being such a small island. It's about the size of Manhattan. Here we see a farmer in a valley probaby in the sourthern most part of the island..
Again, he loved perspectives. This was probably a friend's house.
One of Steve II's older landscapes
This was his studio in his finca outside Sta Eulalia
Another older landscape
Steve II's finca
Steve Seley, the orginal Beat poet... predating Ginsberg... He was my dad's closest friend. The two were notorious and where you found one, you'd find the other not far off. They became known as Steve Primero (Steve I) because Seley came to Ibiza 1st, and Steve Segundo (Steve II). One a writer, the other, a painter. There are stories about how they saved each others lives now and then -- mostly from extreme adventures into dipsomania. Dad began signing all of his paintings, Steve II, and became known for his naive landscapes of Ibiza.
Steve Seley at Bar Estrella with his daily brandy, coffee and paper. Seley complained from the time he got up until the time he passed out at night. Those of us who knew him learned not to be annoyed by this. He took the whole world personally and bitched like a disappointed father at the stupidity of the human race. My father took to calling him 'God' for this and whenever he wrote me a letter, he'd end it by saying, "God sends his love..."
The first on the left is my father's best friend, Steve Seley, or as many called him, Steve Primero. He was the first person my father met on Ibiza, and for years they picked each other up from their inebriated escapades. When Seley was really ill, probably from liver poisoning, my father nursed him like a mother. Here, they're just back from a First Communion, all dressed up in their best duds. Wish I could tell you who the others are...
Steve Seley
Steve Ericsson 2nd from Left He could have flown w those ears...Steve Seley 3rd from the left.
Snaps from http://ibizatimes.blogspot.com/
An Ibizenco man in native dress.
Only on Ibiza have I ever witnessed a real Blood Moon. However, I saw the moon rise just as the sun set on Formentara - the smallest of the Balearics. On one end of Formentara, there was a strip of beach where you could watch both, if you timed it just right...
Ah...Sandy's Bar. It was known the world over and described in Playboy as one of the top ten bars in the world. This was where I sent letters to my father and where I got my own mail when I visited. Sandy knew everyone, and everyone knew Sandy. Famous actors like Denholm Elliott, Terry Thomas and Dianna Rigg gathered here along with other savory and unsavory characters. Here, my father introduced me to Annie Ross, the great jazz singer of Lambert, Hendricks and Ross. Like most pedestrians, I thought all of these celebs would be different than normal people and I found that they actually were--usually by way of being tediously self-obsessed. Although Annie wasn't at all. We became friends and I stayed in her London flat when I was coming and going from the States. Denholm was so terribly shy that he made me laugh. Years later, after my father died, he made the film, Room with a View, and I though I have no proof, I swear that he used my father as the model for his character ...
The garden at Sandy's bar. Trust me, the clientele never cleaned up as well as these models in this publicity shot...
Denholm was married to Suzy Elliott for nearly 15 years when I met the two of them. They had two children and it as obvious that they adored each other. They were the first couple I'd ever met who lived in an open marriage for Denholm was bi-sexual. It didn't seem to get between them, which surprised me in my naivete. I never saw them fight, and I spent a good deal of time at their finca. Around the house, they were always very affectionate with each other. Suzy married Denhom at the age of 19 when he was twice her age. She was very independent and quite the real estate tycoon, having turned a small allowance into an empire. Denholm died of AIDs related TB in 1992, and Suzy set up a foundation for AID's victims in his name. She also took over Sandy's Bar when Sandy retired, which I think, only SHE could have pulled off. The sad thing is that Suzy died in 2007 when a fire engulfed her London flat and killed her.
Denholm & Suzy Elliott at their finca on Ibiza
Their finca -- brilliant landscaping...
More of their finca
More brilliant landscaping at Denholm & Suzy's finca
This is a typical finca, unusual only because it wasn't white-washed in the traditional manner.
The entire countryside was lit up when the almond trees bloomed. My father painted many landscapes of the blue nights where the white fincas and the almond trees seemed almost florescent blue in the moonlight.
I found this illustration very interesting. My father's finca was very similar to this traditional layout. It was 600 years old, built to ward off invaders with tiny windows and only one set of very heavy doors. Virtually impenetrable as well as self-sustaining.
No, he's not dressed up for some tourist reenactment. The Ibicenco men all dressed like this.
View from Old Town of the Penya (or New Town.
This is a typical street in the Penya, or what they call the new town.
Calle de la Virgen - where both my father and Seley had apartments in the Penya.
I have often walked down this street before...
My father's apt on Calle de la Virgen
Ibiza in the 60's. My father arrived there in 1960, and he swore that there were only two cars on the island and both of them were taxis...
Wauna's Bar was to Ibizatown what Sandy's Bar was to Santa Eulalia. Taken in the mid 60's. See any cars?
Me at Bar Estrella ... sitting in God's seat.
Clive Crocker & I think that's Vivian Moti
Clive Crocker crewing with ?
Clive Crocker up in the old town
Clive Crocker
The Old Town: a walled city, dating back to the 7th century BCE. "Balearic archipelago, becoming one of the most important in the Mediterranean thanks to the maritime commerce promoted by the Carthaginian empire. The enclosure, Puig des Molins, considered to be the best preserved necropolis of Phoenician-Punic culture, dates from the same period." (http://www.eivissaweb.com/reports/castles-and-towers/dalt-vila/4/#inicicont)
3,000 year old Carthaginian walled city. This is called Old Town, as opposed to the Penya, which is a mere 1,000 years old...
The streets were paved with stones long before the birth of Christ. Invaded by nearly everyone, it's said that under the ancient church in the Old Town, there are seven previously existing temples.
The entrance to Old Town.
The catacombs of Puig des Molins, considered to be the best preserved necropolis of Phoenician-Punic culture, dates from the 7th century BCE.
There is something about this photo that I love. To me, it almost seems like a painting. Again, the old city with its treacherous cliffs below that rose up from the sea.
The cliffs under Old Town. Imagine trying to ambush it!
If you own a painting by my father, Steve II, and you'd like to share it here in this album, you can contact me ay stephericsson@gmail.com.
