A legendary “refuge” for broke artists, poets, musicians, directors and writers in 1940s-1950s New York, the Chelsea Hotel embodies post-war popular culture almost unto itself and continues to inspire generations of authors, with its innumerable glorious ghosts. Closed for a decade to repair the ravages of time and human nature, it is gradually reopening its doors to the public, floor by floor, renovated from top to bottom. Or almost.
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Light has fallen on Chelsea. A familiar figure strolls on the macadam, ignored by passers-by. On this warm June evening, you would swear you recognized this stocky-looking ghost walking past bars and trendy art galleries on the way to his home port. Jack Kerouac, the mythical poet of the beat generation (literary and artistic movement born in the 1950s in the United States.), has haunted these streets for almost a decade, and its shadow hangs over Chelsea, as on the places it roamed.
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