Betty Johnson

LANDSCAPES, PORTRAITS AND STILL LIVES

Yesterday, I passed a sleeping dog, a kneeling gardener, 

and a meadow undulating under a perforated sky.

I passed landscapes, portraits and still lives

framed by slogans, epithets. 

Yesterday, I traveled the humming grey road

with its yellow and white stripes

its dotted lines, where I lost the ability

to tell right from wrong

along with the capacity to lose myself

lost as I was, floundering in the wild,

bewildered for a while.

Yesterday, I lost you and a connection with my history,

sitting in diners or at drugstore counters

drinking black coffee.

Without pockets, I didn’t know what to do with my hands,

dashing my dream of being a backup singer with the band.

Yesterday, you were here and now you’re not

(not that it matters a hell of a lot)

since yesterday has vanished and tomorrow 

portends departures.

Yesterday, you hid in plain sight

And I walked-on-by.

From Buster Simpson

Contemplating the next shot during the shooting of "Ride Dr. Chicago"  Joshua Tree CA  1970?

Ann Arbor Film Festival Party, George on the left, Norman Mailer on the right

Professor George with students at Pat Oleszko's birthday party

"Document of Impact" George connects with a steel sign post in the process of catching a football during the filming of   "Cry Dr. Chicago"

Paying tribute to Anne Wehrer, San Francisco 2007

Scattering Anne Wehrer under Golden Gate Bridge

George's song

At the bethlehem memorial for George, Betty read this song and evoked many tears from his assembled friends and family.

WHEN I WAS AYOUNG MAN

THEY SHUFFLED THE DECK

THEY DEALT ME A HAND

SAID THAT’S ALL YOU GET

SO I PLAYED MY HAND

ONE CARD AT A TIME

BUT NEVER COULD FIGURE

WHY THE CARDS NEVER RHYMED

NOW I’M AN OLD MAN

HOBBLED AND GREY

BLIND AS A STONE

WITH NOTHING TO SAY

EXCEPT TO OFFER

THESE WORDS OF ADVICE

NEVER LOOK BACK

NEVER THINK TWICE

NOW THERE’S NO LIGHT

AT THE END OF THE HALL

MY MEMORY’S ALL SHOT

I’VE HIT THE BRICK WALL

BUT ONE CIGARETTE

AND ONE WHISKEY MORE

AND I’LL LEAVE IT ALL

ON THAT EMPTY DANCE FLOOR

(CHORUS I)

WE’LL GLIDE AND WE’LL SWIRL

‘TIL THE BAND SAYS WE’RE THROUGH

STILL I WILL HAVE HAD

MY LAST DANCE WITH YOU

WHEN THE ASHES ARE SPREAD

AND THE LAST KIND WORD SAID

THE COMMITTEE AGREED

HEMADE HIS OWN BED

(CHORUS II)

WE HUGGED AND WE KISSED

‘TIL THE MUSIC  WAS O”ER

IF I CAN I’LL GET BACK

FOR ONE TWO–STEP MORE

IF I CAN I’LL GET BACK

FOR ONE TWO-STEP MORE

George Manupelli’s parting song

Sam Ashley

Where to begin??!

"When you're 72 I'll be 93..." or 66 or I don't know.

But one thing I definitely want to say is that maybe a year or more
ago, perhaps a couple of years almost, I discovered some of George's
films on the internet, including some real early ones. It was so nice
to see those again! I hadn't seen them in so many years, and man, what
a wonderful eye!! Those are some beautiful images. I intended to call
and say so, just to say hi really, but to say that about the films too.
But for all the dumb ordinary reasons that call just kept being
postponed. Not for any real reason. Just because of how the dumbest
things in life demand so much attention. (So yeah, there's a lesson in
there too, I know.)

A wonderful friend and a wonderful filmmaker; no matter how out of
touch we might have seemed to be in this "real" world that was always
my feeling.

Love you George.

Sam Ashley

VIVA GEORGE!

  

I met George Manupelli when he worked at the San Francisco Art Institute, as Dean,  during the     early 1980's.  I was working in the Library as the cataloging assistant and I was also a student. George's position as Dean meant that he was to oversee the Library. And what a kind, loving and jolly "overseer" he was! He would regularly come by and pop his head in just to see how we were doing --- he would call these "spot checks". He was mainly coming by to say hello, catch up --- he trusted that we cared about our jobs, the school. And we did. We, (the library staff), started to jokingly refer to him as "Dad", and we called him that to his face. Somedays, the library staff  engaged in the invigorating  practice of playing basketball on our break time and George would often join us. One time, we even had a much touted and anticipated basketball game after work --- the Library vs. the Tool Room. George played on our library team. Guess who won? 

When George became involved with his Nicaragua work he asked those of us working and studying at the Art Institute if we wanted to give him any art or greetings to bring to the people of Nicaragua.  I responded with a proof of a print that I had altered with a message in Spanish. George reciprocated by

making me this lovely shadow box that has a photo of my print being examined by Nicaraguan cultural

workers. I was so surprised and touched by his generosity. On the back of the piece is written:

"For Diana, may the struggle bring much peace. George".

Lastly, I have posted, below, a copy of the introduction that George wrote for the San Francisco Art Institute College Bulletin, 1983/1984.  His beautiful words are just as sadly relevant today, as they were then. When a group of us students mounted a political art show in the Diego Rivera Gallery, (remember -- this was the early 1980's --- art at SFAI was different then:), we typed out this intro, photographed it, and mounted it on the wall. I think that George's tenure as Dean gave some of us, who were very much in the minority then, a sense of the appropriateness or rightness of expressing ourselves politically in our art. I so loved these words that, in 1999,  I used them in a series of pieces that I made for a site specific temporary installation in the SFAI library as part of an Artists' Committee show. I sent George some slides of these pieces and that was the last time that I was in touch with him.

Thank you, George, for teaching me some stuff about art and humanness. And yes, about struggle.  (I am so happy to learn that you were still fighting for what you believed in, and making things up until your last days.) May you now be at peace.  And know that you are missed --- it's a wee bit duller here!

Buon Viaggio. Arrivederci….
Diana Maria Rossi
Berkeley, 2014

Danielle Bennett

George Manupelli

I mourn for you,

wish I had more memories with you,

things I didn’t ask, 

things I didn’t say….

memories of you are vague.  

You lived life your way,

as rebel, outsider,

but a part of me.

My family knows from whom they came.

The apple tree you planted when I was born

…that tree Is grown and bears fruit.

I knew my grandfather was a "big deal" when I went to the Ann Arbor State Theater. People, young and old, gathered, eager to watch his movies and shake his hand. I arrived with my brand new puppy MoMo. I was told "Oh no, you cannot be seated in the theater with a puppy. When I was identified as George Manupelli’s granddaughter, I was seated right away. That’s when I knew my grandfather was "THE MAN". There I was with my puppy enjoying his films in a beautiful theatre surrounded by people that idolized my grandfather.

I remember being so terrified one day when he came for a visit. I was living in middle school at the time, late 80's, early 90's, a time when explicit lyrics were becoming the "thing". I wrote some explicit lyrics and somehow Grandpa George read them. He read the inappropriate document in its entirety and was amused. I loved him even more.

I remember another time when he left some chocolates. He may have told me they were for my Mom, and it’s possible I didn't pay attention but when I ate them they were filled with liquor! Mmmm, I loved them!

I also loved my grandfather's Boston accent.

I love you Grandpa George.

Rick Waters

Hi Betty,  Hi Joe--

I'm afraid my answer to your invitation hadn't been thought through.  The fact is, I am too old. I have declined considerably over the past year, and I realize my appearance at George's party is not practical.

No songs, no poems, no prayers.

I think of Georges as a great man. A few eons in purgatory, of course,  and he will join the angels. I think of him as I hope for myself: at the Last Judgement headed south,of course, but George will come up with a timely technicality, and he and I will manage a circuitous route (just one stop at the liquor store) to My God, what lovely girls they have here--- My God!