Friday, October 7, 2011

"Slow down and enjoy life. It's not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why." Eddie Cantor

I've taken an unintentional Hubert hiatus this summer. Life events took over and my search for Hubert fell somewhere between family, work, and trying to keep pace in a hurried world. Sadly, Hubert fell from an overriding obsession to a random rumination. Hubert's fall from grace was perhaps also due to the dearth of information from any of the many resources I contacted over the last 22 months.

What started out as a delightful journey to discover the identity of my beloved artist I had, through sheer impatience, allowed my quest to become a chore. So wrapped up in my earnest endeavor to identify Hubert as more than a mystery etcher with a distinctive signature, I slowly lost the joy in my purpose.

For the same reason I read the last page of a book first, and scan the dessert menu before ordering the first course, and sometimes finish my husband's sentence before he can get the words out of his mouth, I'm anxious to cut to the chase, to reach the final conclusion. A member of the instant gratification generation I expected if not immediate results then surely a positive identification after a year of intensive searching.

It took a speeding ticket to slow me down. Heading north for a mini-vacation, I was looking forward to a chance to chill out and relax. I packed 3 books to read, a knitting project to finish, several magazines, a few new recipes to whip up and my laptop to complete a work assignment. Anxious to get there, focusing on the ultimate destination, I overlooked everything along the way - including the speed limit. A piercing siren, flashing lights and one stone-faced state trooper ensued writing up a very costly ticket that made me realize my need for speed was instead setting me up for failure.

And so, here I am again, bolstered by the realization that sometimes you have to simply let life run its course and wait patiently for the benefits of hard work...

Friday, May 13, 2011

"The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery." Francis Bacon

I've noticed a preponderance of publications lately on the subject of happiness. There are entire sections in bookstores devoted to achieving happiness. Newspaper articles and  magazine features tell us where to live to be happier, what foods we should eat to make us happy, what colors induce happy moods, even the amount of income we should endeavor to earn to be a happier person - the list goes on.

But is it really necessary or even desirable to be happy ALL of the time? If we walked around in a perpetual state of bliss wouldn't that gleeful high lose its effect and become mundane? Would we appreciate a sunny day as much if we didn't have a little rain now and then? Am I the only person who thinks there is something very wrong when a person needs instruction to be happy -  doesn't everyone have an innate capacity for happiness?

A close friend recently related a story that reinforced my belief that you don't  need an instruction manual to learn happiness. Standing under a cherry tree while walking the dog, my friend was caught in a sudden wind burst that caused thousands of cherry blossoms to rain down creating a maelstrom of pink petals and making them the living centerpiece in a spring snow-globe. It was a moment of sheer bliss, one of those ordinary extraordinary moments that remain forever etched in your memory.

A few days later on my way to work I found myself stopped at a stop sign that happened to be under a cherry tree. The wind blew and cherry blossoms formed a funnel cloud swirling around my car simulating my friend's blissful experience. As I attempted to snapshot the feeling, the car behind me began honking wildly, the driver giving me a very un-blissful-like gesture. Moral of the story - one man's bliss is another man's miss.

I did have my own blissful experience this month though, when I discovered an amazing blog devoted to forgotten, under-appreciated or little known artists. I emailed the blogger and was thrilled to receive a quick response and ecstatic to hear his thoughts. Once again, the question arises as to whether or not Hubert really exists or is merely a random name assigned to etchings to make them appear more authentic and desirable. Although I must accept this as a possibility, I can't help but believe that there really is a Hubert because all of the works are of the same style and seem to be created by the same person. It was also suggested (and here it gets very interesting) that a good match for my etchings might be Albert C. Hubert (1878-1935), an Austrian artist. The dates match up, however, I could only find one example of his work with which to compare likeness to my Hubert. The style was quite similar but the work was a different medium,  making it difficult to tell for certain. So far, I've had little luck in obtaining information on Albert C. Hubert but I'm just happy to have a new road to follow, even if my road to happiness is filled with potholes...

Sunday, March 20, 2011

"Happiness is not so much in having as sharing." Norman MacEwan

Losing Hubert was inevitable. After years of admiring, collecting, and chasing Hubert I had grown to believe that he was exclusively MY mystery artist. After all, I was the one who saved him from oblivion when I found his etching hidden beneath an old mirrored beer sign. I was the one who started a blog to track him down. I was the one who spent endless hours contacting strangers all over the world to find the identity of this elusive artist.

For a long time I was the lone person who showed an interest in Hubert ...... until several weeks ago when I noticed a Hubert etching in an online sale. I was the first and only person to place a bid and I was confident that I would soon have another etching to add to my collection. Because I would be at work and unable to log on for the final crucial minutes of bidding, for insurance I foolishly placed my highest bid higher than my affordability, never dreaming that there would be anyone else as interested in Hubert.

You can imagine my anguish when I arrived home and logged on to discover I was outbid. Someone won my Hubert and paid a pretty penny to acquire it. I felt like a jilted bride left at the altar. After experiencing four of the five stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression - I eventually arrived at the final stage of acceptance. Losing Hubert, although extremely disappointing, was an encouraging sign that others adore Hubert as well. It was time to relinquish my possessiveness towards Hubert and embrace the possibility that Hubert has grown a following. The Hubert Fan Club does have a certain ring to it....

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

One man's priority is another man's paltriness.

We all have our priorities. I've been guilty of neglecting Hubert lately. Daughter #2's wedding has taken precedence - most of my time over the last several weeks has been consumed with wedding plans. When did weddings become such complicated affairs? Steve Martin said it best in Father of the Bride "I used to think a wedding was a simple affair. Boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say I do. I was wrong. That's getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition." Truer words were never spoken.

Weddings are complex, costly and time-consuming ventures that most girls spend a great deal of time fantasizing about. Most, that is, except for Daughter #2 who regarded her impending nuptials as a tremendous imposition and who would be completely contented with merely signing the wedding license and doing away with the ceremonial hoopla. If the definition of a bridezilla is a difficult, perfectionist bride, then Daughter # 2 would qualify as the blasé bride.

Nothing was a problem for this bride-to-be. Then again, nothing much excited her either. Nonchalant during the wedding dress selection, apathetic about the reception venue, indifferent towards the music, photography, flowers, you can imagine my surprise when this passive bride-to-be came out of emotional hibernation with an impassioned opinion about...garlic mashed potatoes! It was a simple spud that finally roused some emotion in this impervious bride when faced with making the menu selection for the reception dinner. She stood her ground through suggestions for wild rice, chive buttered new potatoes, twice-baked stuffed potatoes and requested - no, demanded - garlic mashed potatoes.

I guess we all have our own priorities. I suppose that's true of the galleries, libraries, hotels, organizations and people I've emailed over the last several months about Hubert. Hubert may be my passion but he's just not that important to most everyone else. I can't expect everyone to equal my enthusiasm in my search for Hubert. Yet, every once in a while, someone will come forth and renew my fervor to further the cause. Recently, someone contacted me via email with a "I think I have a Hubert" message. Bought at a bag sale with the intention to re-sell, she came across my blog and contacted me giving me the opportunity to purchase the etching and add to my collection for basically the cost of shipping. Hubert may be my priority but it's truly rewarding to discover another's understanding and appreciation for that priority. Thanks, Kate!