12/27/05 |
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H. Eric Hartman*art-man*"A sight-impaired artist with a vision" .
Sight-impaired and self-taught artist H. Eric Hartman is a native of New Orleans. He grew up on the banks of Bayou St. John in the shadows of the magnolia and live oak trees that surround the New Orleans Museum of Art. Although he always exhibited artistic talents, a rare eye disease, Choroideremia, greatly discouraged his pursuit of a career in art. During his 15 years in Banking, Eric's passion for art grew while his peripheral vision disappeared. Finally realizing that his artistic talents were a gift that must be pursued, he opened his art studio in 1995. His total loss of peripheral vision simply meant that there were fewer distractions. Papier Mache' sculptures became his passion. Self-taught, he worked for 10 years as a sculptor receiving both regional and national recognition for his work. Eric left New Orleans in 1997 on what became a four year sojourn on Cape Cod and New England. While living on the Cape, he was encouraged to turn his artistic endeavors in a new direction, landscape oil painting, by the noted Cape Cod artist, Arnold Demarais. Under the tutelage of Demarais, first in private classes and then in his classes held at the Cape Artists Association and later in the South of France, Eric became a painter at heart and set aside his sculpting tools. He enjoyed traveling throughout the New England region, experiencing and painting the both beauty of the Four Seasons and the majesty of the Atlantic Seashores. Those years proved crucial in opening his eyes to Nature's wonder of color and igniting a fire in him to paint it. Returning in 2000 to his true home, New Orleans, Eric has continued to paint. Sensing that he was being drawn more towards Impressionism, he has also studied in several national workshops taught by Lois Griffel, internationally known painter and author of "Painting the Impressionist Landscape", and Director of The Cape Cod School of Art, America's oldest school of art. In 2003, Eric also completed a 10 day intensive Plein-air painting class held in the breathtaking Teton Mountains of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and taught by Scott Christensen, one of America's top-ranked Plein-air landscape painters and has exhibited in some of the most prestigious shows and museums in the country. Eric has long since realized that "Plein-air painting is a constant learning process. Each time I paint I learn and explore new ways to capture the fleeting light and atmosphere of the moment." Like his sculptures, Eric draws his inspiration for his paintings from the natural beauty he sees around him. " I try to convey the feeling of the Moment, Time, Temperature and the effects of Light. I tend to lean towards Impressionism. I am striving not so much to capture details as much as trying to convey the vibrations and interactions of color." Artman's rising notoriety: Rich in the traditions and cultures of Southern Louisiana and drawing from his travels, Eric's works have been selected for numerous national art exhibitions and are privately held from the White House to the wine county of California and internationally from Australia to England. Eric has also received both local and national press coverage. His work has been seen on NBC's The Today Show, The Rosie O'Donnell Show, CNN and Entertainment Tonight. Stories about his artwork and his battle with Choroideremia have appeared in The New Orleans Times Picayune, The Washington Post, New Orleans Magazine, Gambit Magazine and The St. Anthony Messenger. To see the art-man though someone else's eyes, you may like to read the following article.
This article appeared
December 04, 2001 in New Orleans, on the Editorial Page of The Times
Picayune newspaper :
"Through a pal's eyes. glimpses of
joy"
by Eliot Kamenitz
"
Choroideremia.
It's a hard word to
spell and an even harder word to pronounce."
In laymen's terms, it's a long-term
progressive eye disease that starts out with night blindness and can,
depending on the individual, eventually eat up your peripheral vision
until you can't see. There's no treatment, no cure and it s very rare.
Nationally 3,000 to 6,000 have it. My friend, Eric Hartman is one of them.
Now 45, he's known he's had
choroideremia since he was 11.
I met Eric a decade ago at the Maple
Leaf bar. Ever gregarious, he was telling stories to a group of friends
huddled around. We chatted and he invited me to his Christmas party. He
told me to bring chips. I brought shrimp creole. We've been friends ever
since.
Being friends with a sight-impaired
person alters your life.
When we are out about town our
conversation is punctuated with "look out, shin-killer coffee table off
port bow" or "cranium-cracker cabinet 10 o'clock high."
My wife and I have tried to
Eric-proof our house when he comes over, making sure nothing sticks out,
above or lurks underfoot, out of his radar range. Though he has no night
vision and his periphery is impeded, he sees well enough straight ahead.
Even so, during a recent dinner party there came a crash from the living
room. Eric had sideswiped an antique phone on the wall and sent it
smashing into some pottery.
We stood hushed, not knowing what to
say, until Eric, staring at the mess, bellowed, "What are you, blind?"
Well, it's a good ice-breaker.
On Fridays, I drive us to Dorignac's
to "make groceries." We each grab a shopping cart and trundle off in
different directions. I'm always worried that there will be a loud
shattering followed by a monotone intercom announcement for "clean up in
Aisle 4."
It never happens. That's the
different between me and Eric. I always expect the worst from life and he
always expects the best.
Years ago, when he could see better,
we went on a ski trip to Taos. I don't ski. I have lousy balance and hate
snow. But Eric, with friends Peter and Becky Pernichiaro to guide him,
took to the slopes to slosh through white-tipped mountains as I took to
the lodge bar to slosh through white-topped Irish coffee.
In time, I've seen his world get
smaller, at least visually. Ski poles on the slopes have given way to
occasionally using a red and white cane on the streets. I don't think he
like this much, but he jokes, "well, it does get you on the airplane
first."
He's also traded the athletic gear
for a paint brush. Using the concentrated vision left him, Eric has
started turning out Impressionist landscapes and scenes from Mardi Gras.
He was even able to join an art class expedition to Provence and paint in
the countryside. He notes Monet was almost totally blind in his later
years, but still actively painted.
For a person going blind, he's a
blind person on the go.
You' ve probably seen Eric, kayaking
Bayou St. John or frantically zydeco dancing in some pool of light at
Mid-City Rock 'n' Bowl. And for most years since 1983 if you've ever been
a patient or visiting parent at Children's Hospital Christmas morning . .
.well, he was that guy in the red suit and beard handing out gifts to the
kids.
I've been a photographer for 30
years, but I don't think I understood the true meaning of vision until I
met Eric. Vision is a can do.
You can get a glimpse of Eric
Sunday. The Olympics have picked him to carry the torch for three blocks
through New Orleans as the flame makes its long, weaving trek across the
country to Salt Lake City. At 4:30 p.m. with the flaming Olympic
Torch in one hand and his cane in
the other, through the dusk and dodging the Crescent City's finest
potholes, Eric will jog from St. Charles Avenue at Short Street and go
right on Carrollton to Burthe Street to hand the flame off.
At the end of a long, dark tunnel,
eric is his own beacon of light."
Eliot Kamenitz is a staff
photographer at the Time Picayune
* It should also be noted that Eric serves a member of the Board of Directors for the Choroideremia Research Foundation, Inc., The CRF, a new not-for-profit group, is a worldwide group of people with the disease, families and friends working to raise money to hasten the work to find a cure for this progressive genetic thief of sight. Check this site's "F.O.A.M. Links" page for more information on Choroideremia and the CRF.
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This site was last updated 08/23/05