Mariannita Luzzati, visual artist:
I consider Alan part of my family. We had a deep friendship. My husband and I travelled with him to New York and the Amalfi Coast.
Alan wrote two reviews of my work. He often came to visit my studio and to dinner at our house. We visited many exhibitions together.
He always talked to me about his horses, the mountains, and art.
Jennà Romano, leader of Letti Sfatti, is a composer, singer, guitarist:
How did you meet Alan? What was your first impression of him?
I met Alan thanks to Franco Del Prete (Napoli Centrale). We immediately found ourselves talking about music and art in general. In a short time, I became fascinated by his sensitivity and by the way it translated into a curiosity for new forms of expression.
After the first time we met, we began speaking on the phone frequently. I would play my songs for him, and he often came to my studio to listen to my tracks while they were still in their embryonic stages. What struck me was that, despite not being a musician, he always knew which direction a song would take. We also often met in Montenero.
What is one of your fondest memories or favourite anecdotes involving Alan?
Once, he invited me to perform in the town square for an event. That was also where the idea came about to make a documentary film about Montenero, which we screened before the concert under the title The Magnetic Place (Il posto magnetico).
It was a wonderful experience to enter that place and see it through the eyes of the people who lived there, in the place where Alan had chosen to make his home.
I loved his sense of irony, and he loved mine, so we always ended up highlighting the moments we spent together through a constant exchange of ideas and inspiration. You could never get bored with Alan, and our thoughts had a vast open space in which to meet and give rise to new ideas — a space as wide as the Pantano of Montenero.
How would you describe his creativity, imagination, and vision?
Alan orbited around beauty. He recognised it and circled around it like a bee around a flower.
I wanted him to take part in a documentary about Piero Ciampi, and even though he was not very familiar with Ciampi’s work, he quickly grasped the essence of the man and managed to talk about him with great naturalness.
How do you continue to carry his lively, sociable spirit with you today, along with his readiness to engage in conversation?
Unfortunately, I can only do so through the lessons he taught me and the advice he gave me.
I miss being able to exchange ideas with him, explain what I intend to create, and let him listen to my songs. I would love to be able to call him again and ask whether I could drive a hundred kilometres or so just to play him something.
I miss my friend. I miss his culture, and the passion with which he told stories and shared things with others.
I often think of him when I have to make an important decision. I ask myself: What would Alan have advised me to do?
Alan was a pioneer and, at the same time, a man who did not like to take credit for his great initiatives. He always knew where to go in search of beauty and how to bring it to the attention of others.
I miss him!
Prometheus from the Bronx
The oldest child I know,
son of the Baltic,
christened in a Helvetic river
one night, in the middle
of the century.
Throwing curve balls
in the Champs Elysées.
Dancing naked
all the way to America.
And yet why?
Why not? he says.
Almost the best dry waller
in the region,
he says.
Almost the best chess teacher
in the village,
he says.
Perso nell'abbraccio delle sirene.
Hanging from a line
of poetry,
you wandering Jew,
I wish I were you.
By Carlo Pizzati.
Penned, endorsed & approved by Tishani Doshi
Positano, Oct. 11th, 2010
Dedication: Per Alan. Prometeo del Bronx
Carlo Pizzati, Writer & Journalist:
Commentary on the poem:
This is a biographical poem I wrote for Alan Frenkiel when my partner and I were guests at his house in Positano in Autumn of 2010.
It references certain chapters of his life, the family hailing from Northern Europe, the fact that, while born in Marseille, the Frenkiels were forced to escape Nazi persecution of the Jewish population and one night had to cross a river into Switzerland, the “Helvetic river,” holding little “Alain” in their arms.
The curve balls reference is evocative of a famous photograph, which also appears on the cover of a Magnum photo agency volume, in which Alan is portrayed as a young revolutionary throwing rocks at riot police in the May 1968 Paris street protests which turned violent. The way the boy is holding his fingers reveals this is someone who grew up playing baseball, in this case on the fields of the Bronx.
Dancing naked all the way to America referencesto his days and tours, also in the United States, with the Living Theatre group, whose dancers would often perform without clothes.
Dry walling, or building walls in the Montenero countryside without the use of cement, but simply piling up rocks, was an art Alan loved and he spend a lot of his time learning the ancient techniques from the locals and applying them to his fields down by the Pantano and elsewhere. To him, it was a poetic activity.
It’s well known that in the ‘70s, Alan contributed to the development and teaching of the game of chess in Positano, a town which later produced some particularly skilful players who held their own in important competitions. It all started thanks to Alan’s efforts when he lived there. He liked to bring in some change, to improve the reality around him. That is also why he promoted concerts and exhibits in Montenero, bringing culture to this remote area.
Montenero di Val Cocchiara Sept. 24th, 2026
