Archive for the 'family' Category

Hasta la vista Aspen….hola Ojai!

Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009

With 84-year old Gino’s oxygen levels dropping continually at a ‘mere’ 8200 feet, the plan took shape and has already been executed: a move to sea level. Gino and Barbie flirted with the idea of Spain again but with family stateside, Ojai, California seemed to fit the bill. And, it does; see so with the email below:

“My kids knew my modus operendi and suggested Ojai as being my best shot..considering barbara’s needs as well..and lo and behold..have a three bedroom on the last street in town to west..only alfalfa field and huge orange grove and then Natl forest as view from my bedroom the sorta office and the ample studio space and sizable backyard….not a house or structure to be seen..good start…and yes five hundred feet instead of 8 thousand altitude has resulted in zero use of oxygen feed so far and probable continue same……the week here in Ojai…strange and wonderfull feeling after near five years on ox….24/7 good start….had all family so willingly crawling around on hands and knees with workload doing all to be done..unloaded some 80 large boxes plus all our furniture and most already put in place……
my studio just about set..and figure to start painting agin in few days.

call next time your heading this way…we will be finished with this
settlin in process in week or two….
tel number is 805 272 8107 and just got back on line this
afternoon….with some 180 e’s showing….oye vey!!!
Sempre Advanti

gino”

Gino Hollander's Ojai studio

Gino and Barbie’s beloved doggies

Thursday, July 24th, 2008

True to a blog, Gino sends random messages and photos from their little nook by the Roaring Fork River in Aspen. So, I’m adding and sharing these. In this photo, the doggies are chowing breakfast, con gusto, on Lady B’s bed.

Enjoy!

con gusto! 14-yr old Spook, Charlie, a West Highland white terrier age 8 or 9, and the cutie pie in gray is Madigan…a miniature schnauzer age 4 or 5

Jackie Kennedy

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008

Another story from Gino:

JK and Fermin Borquez, famous rejoniador and winery from Jerez de la frontera..I am just in back of her and when some hundreds of photographers shortly after this photo blocked the way..horse started freaking and I went up and grabbed the reins and as was the only english speaker in the whole mess of people…there we began to talk and were held up for 1/2 hour..so was a long warm talk of this and that…Invited her to my NY Hollander Gallery on Madison..said I would be in the following month..and sure enough a month later her limo showed up parked double lane in front of gallery..and she came in spent an hour looking and talking of whatever; life in Spain mostly and art. She bought a painting and I gifted several works on paper and did a sketch…had a gracious thank you note a week later.

Another thing was that nite after the ride we were all, my family, in the Alfonso Trece hotel bar…and in came Grace of Monaco, the other famosa woman of the year who, up to the point of Saturday paseo on horses (photo), had been the beloved of Sevilla …until Jackie.

Ah you women…a different, perhaps better world you are and beget.

Jackie Kennedy & Gino Hollander

Gino’s story about horse trip across Spain

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008

In Junio de ’73 we went with six horses and the four kids and a friend of Jim’s (Gino’s oldest son) across Spain from Pizarra to Pamplona. It was a trip that Marc had suggested after he went with us to Sevilla for the Feria 1969.

After two very heavy years I decided now’s the time for me to get into the act of living once again. And a horse trip sleeping and out all the way and probably taking about 30 days was just the thing. Being on Marejada for five hours a day for thirty days would have been challenge enough but cutting cross country with no roads allowed and carrying whatever with us on a couple packhorses was a challenge indeed.

Barbara was to ride Alexi, as she did on the three days up and three back to Sevilla. An enthusiastic horsewoman she wasn’t. But somehow with what I got involved in she managed to go along with at least once. All was set for our departure vente-uno de Mayo at six in the morning. A huge downpour (early for Málaga) started as we were packing up the horses; saddling. I mean a torrential affair.

The quadra almost immediately became a lake. Barbara said with no if’s and’s or but’s no way am I going to go with you all on horseback for a month. Well, after twenty years with a woman you get to know what you can get away with and what you can’t. This was a definite no no. And at 6:30 am and the downpour outdoing itself, we’d be lucky to get the horses out of the stable without them sinking up to their bellies. To make it to Alora through all those newly plowed orange groves would be like plowing through a sponge where one could lose a horse.

So what to do now? “Okay, here’s what we are going to do, guys and dolls. Unpack the pack horses (general moan from Scott, Lise, Siri, Jimmy and friend). Jim, go get the VW bus (ancient) and bring here into the stable. Barbie, you are as of now off the hook, no riding a horse to Pamplona. You are going to drive the VW with all our packs in it, and bedding and camping supplies, food, horseshoeing, and the works. We don’t need a packhorse to slow us down. You’ll take all the equipment and we’ll be able to ride light. It will be easier by far on the horses and on us.” “No way,” says Madam Hollander. “I am not going to drive this decrepit old wreck to Pizarra, no less 1000 miles to Pamplona alone.” “Who says ‘alone’, my love, your beloved Duchesa (our two-year-old St. Bernard) will be your constant companion.” A scream from Lady B, the tone of which I interpreted as not a definite NO, and possibly we could talk her into this. Which all of us, each in our inimitable fashion did. Then the VW pulled into the stable and everyone started piling things in. Duchesa jumped in and plunked herself down on this mountain of blankets and goodies and Barbara, with having lost another set, resigned but mellow, started coming up with practical suggestions as to what to add to the goodie list. A couple of checked tablecloths, candles, food, staples and delicacies, a more or less complete library (for a VW), down pillows and comforters—yes, all the goodies that had been denied when we were going to use pack horses—were now fair game.

How was this to work? “How,” asked my mate, “am I to take this beat up junk pile, behind you guys who are on horseback? Are you riding on roads?” “Nope,” says I, winging it as my excited brain whirled. “We will ride cross country all the way. You will go by roads. Any passable roads that will take you to the spot on this Firestone map marked ‘X’, our meeting place for each day.”

We finally arrive in Pamplona, days ahead of schedule. We looked for a place to stable, we will truck the horses back. We are stared at with our Andaluz dress: Pamplona has never seen the chaps and riding boots and flat hats outside of a bullring. We can’t believe we made it intact, all with aching muscles, cramps, cuts and bruises but essentially in one piece. Can you blame us for being just a little bit boastful? We complained a lot over aches and pains—the horses kept their opinions to themselves. But like us they must have heaved a collective sigh of relief.

So now on to the corridas; on to the annual insanity known as the Feria de San Fermin.

Horse trip across Spain - 1973