Happy Hubert Holidays

Nothing new to report on the Chasing Hubert search this week. I've been waiting at my mailbox so often lately to see if I have received any responses to my snail mail inquiries that our mailman has begun handing me the mail with a sly smirk intimating that perhaps my sudden interest in the U.S. postal service is likely due to a penchant for a man in uniform, as in THIS man in letter carrier uniform.

The mail was handed over yesterday and, unfortunately, all I received was a wink from said letter carrier and an avalanche of Christmas cards to which I have yet to respond. I love receiving cards but hate giving them. The antithesis of the Christmas spirit, I know, but the entire Christmas card tradition of exchanging greetings throws me into turmoil. First off you have to select from thousands of card choices - do I go for humor or tradition, do I opt for a religious message or a generic holiday greeting? Then there is the obligatory personal message to compose, addressing, licking and sealing the envelopes, not to mention the expense of mailing a sackful of cards at 44 cents per card.

For me, far and away the worst, most dreaded and despised part of the entire Christmas card debacle is receiving THE LETTER! You know, that folded, typewritten insert in the card that details every highlight of the sender's apparently charmed life over the last year. Even worse are the ones set to rhyme - "Vacationed in Switzerland, Daughter's accepted to Yale, Just bought a vintage Ferrari, This summer family hiked the entire Appalachian Trail...." Just once I would love to receive a letter that tells it like it really is. And so, here is my Christmas letter for those of us whose lives are not a scene out of Currier and Ives:

T'is the week before Christmas
And all through my house
Running around crazed
Too many family fires to douse

Two middle daughters are feuding
Husband's business is slow
I'm still out of work
Holiday spirits are running low

Got humongous bill from Cobra
Dishwasher's busted, it won't dry
Still haven't found Hubert
I've developed PVD in my right eye

Suburban's transmission is broken
Volvo's radiator is shot
Tried to decorate the front yard
But picket fence has wood rot

Out taxes have doubled
College tuition's a month overdue
Still haven't found Hubert
Daughter's roommate has swine flu

But I'm not complaining
On a positive note
Daughter removed her nose piercing
Visa's giving us one more month to float

Our neighbors gave us their old clunker
So kids won't have to hitch
You gotta love this time of year
Yup, holidays can be a bitch

But I still have my Hubert
A bright spot in my malaise
And my dream I'll discover his/her identity
One of these Chasing Hubert days

No, I haven't found Hubert yet
No idea if I will or when
But it's Chasing Hubert that'll keep me going
Through 2010

To all Chasing Hubert readers
My thanks for reading what I write
A Merry Christmas to all of you
And to all a good night!

Where's Hubert?

Chasing Hubert is oddly reminiscent of the children's book "Where's Waldo" that was so popular in the '80s and spawned a host of "Where's Waldo" commercial franchises. Personally, I found the whole "Where's Waldo" theme frustrating rather than amusing. Staring at a page crammed with hundreds of tiny images in order to find the red and white striped ski-capped Waldo was not my idea of entertainment.  But it did give me an idea to mark the locations of Hubert's etchings on a map.

Unskilled in cartography, I enlisted the aid of my husband who directed me to GoogleEarth where I proceeded to spend hours marking all the etching sights with an icon of a bereted and goateed French artist - I spare no effort for my Hubert. However, what my husband neglected to tell me before I dedicated chunks of time that could have been spent on holiday preparations was that because of size constrictions it is impossible to post a map with all of those details in a space barely larger than a postage stamp.  Instead of leading me to Hubert the intended map almost led to divorce court. Confronted with less than ideal conditions and map-making skills, the above map is the best that I could do. It is limited in that it shows only Hubert's Paris subjects.  There are additional etchings set in other areas of France as well as a number in Belgium.  I'm afraid the Belgium map will have to wait until another time or another husband.

Other than flying to France and tacking wanted posters on lampposts in these locations I'm not entirely sure in what way this map will help my search - it sure sounded like a good idea at the time though. And it was an interesting project to distract me from the fact that I have not done any Christmas shopping to date nor is there one iota of holiday cheer in my house. Instead, my home currently resembles an FBI interrogation office with Hubert tracking maps hung by the chimney with care rather than the requisite stockings.

To add to my December distress, I received a not-too-encouraging response from Sothebys stating "Thank you very much for contacting Sotheby's regarding your print. Our experts have reviewed the work and were unable to determine the artist or authenticity of the work. If you wish to pursue the matter further we would suggest contacting the Appraisers Association of America." Yes, I do wish to pursue the matter and will attempt to give the AA of A call, however, I'm anticipating that there will be a fee associated with an appraisal and I don't believe spending my meager Christmas budget on a Hubert appraisal will endear me to my loved ones. Then again, I could tap into a new commercial enterprise of my own called "Where's Hubert"...

"Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to." Miracle on 34th Street

I turn into Scrooge this time of year. To combat my Santa Claus anxiety, otherwise known as Claustrophobia, my daughter broke out that timeless movie classic "Miracle on 34th Street", guaranteed to melt the hearts of all but the most hardened Scrooges.  Character Fred Gailey's comment to cynical parade director Doris Walker, "Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to" struck a chord with me. I couldn't help but draw a comparison between the movie and my search for Hubert. I know it's somewhat of a stretch but in my Hubert addled brain this line resonates with me because I do have faith that somehow I will find Hubert even though the odds are stacked against me.

I did receive an early Christmas gift that lifted my poor holiday spirit considerably - a response to my email inquiry from the Musee d'Orsay! Their research department found 4 painters named Hubert in their files and requested photos of some of my Hubert etchings to see if they match up.  I immediately sent off some examples for them to examine and am anxiously awaiting their reply. I might, however, have to wait a bit longer. As mentioned previously, I appear to have a lifelong history of poor timing. Apparently this problem of mine is chronic since I just heard the news that a strike by French museum workers to protest plans by the culture ministry to cut the civil service by replacing only half of all retiring employees has shut down many of Paris's museums and monuments. And yes, the Musee d'Orsay is one of the museums affected. Hopefully, for all involved, the issues will be resolved soon.

Meantime, I've been learning about the various steps involved in creating an etching. The book 'Making an Etching' by Levon West describes the procedure as "etching is a process whereby a polished metal plate is covered with an acid-resistant ground, into which a design is drawn with a needle that exposes, but does not penetrate, the metal. Acid is the introduced to bite the design into the plate. Finally, ink is forced into the bitten lines which, under pressure, will yield an impression on paper. The print so produced is known as an etching." Wow. I have even more respect and admiration for Hubert. My patience runs thin when I have to wait at a long traffic light - I cannot begin to imagine how time consuming producing all of those intricate etchings must have been for Hubert.

According to West, the etcher "is undertaking a task that will give him no rest. Etching is not merely the act of putting down an idea on copper instead of wood or canvas.  Nor is it as simple as making a drawing on paper. The art of etching is the successful coordination of several qualities, some of which are not classed as 'artistic'. A good etcher must be, above everything else, a good craftsman." It sounds like there is an awful lot going on in order to create an etching. For someone who cannot pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time I am extremely in awe of this immensely talented, almost mythical artist named Hubert. And extremely perplexed as to how and why he is still a mystery. But, in the words of  Kris Kringle from "Miracle on 34th Street", "... not only IS there such a person, but here I am to prove it."  I believe, I believe, I believe....

Thanksgiving: counting my blessings, counting my Huberts.

Thanksgiving signals the beginning of the holiday season.  Some people revel in it while others dread it. I belong in the latter category. I was reminded of this by a friend/ex-coworker/fellow Scrooge as we commiserated during lunch last week over missing our traditional annual pilgrimage to FAO Schwartz toy store to offset the seasonal doldrums that overtake us this time of year. Perhaps missing our excursion was fortuitous since a previous and somewhat infamous visit to hunt down a Dill Pickles Rugrat doll for my youngest brought the throngs of harried toy shoppers to a standstill when my friend, atop the second floor escalator, spied the the Rugrat doll on display, and yelled loudly to me on the first floor "I found your Dill doll!" It might be time for a new tradition.

I established my own new Thanksgiving ritual. For me, this was a Hubert Thanksgiving. Husband and children off to the Thanksgiving Day Parade, guests not scheduled to arrive for hours, I popped the turkey in the oven and escaped the confines of my kitchen to take advantage of the solitude. Like King Midas (albeit in a grease-stained apron) admiring all of his gold I surrounded myself with all of my Huberts to marvel at and examine again for clues. Like reading a book for the second time there are always new details to discover that might have been overlooked before. This time I focused on Le Musee de Cluny which I have in triplicate, acquired on three separate occasions. One is numbered 155/500, titled and signed with the words "original etching in color, painted copper plate, made in France" imprinted on the frame's paper backing. The other two etchings are titled and signed but not numbered and the colors on these two appear more vibrant.  What is the significance, if any, of this new evidence? I'm not sure but perhaps the books I ordered on the history of French etching will clarify. And the plot thickens!

Midas may have turned everything to gold with his Midas touch but my turkey almost turned to ashes so I quickly returned to the kitchen where, in between basting my turkey and Tofurkey, I composed my Chasing Hubert Plan to quell my impending holiday malaise.  Feeling a bit like Nancy Drew, amateur sleuth, I've compiled a list - a system of order, an agenda, to better organize my hunt. Beginning with contacting museums first (French, Belgian, and American), moving on to art organizations (is there a French Etchers Society?), then universities and art schools, galleries, auction houses, print experts, and finally, anyone who will listen to me relate my Hubert obsession, including, but not limited to, shopping mall Santas.  Hopefully, one of these venues will render a hit or at least a worthwhile clue. A curious side note - none of my Hubert etchings seem to take place in winter. Could Hubert, like me, be averse to the holiday season?

So there you have it, my Chasing Hubert Plan.  Looks like I have my work cut out for me. All the better to take my mind off the fact that the holiday season like it or not is here, that there are only 25 shopping days left in which to fight the crowds and no way to return to the days when a couple of oranges in your stocking was considered a special treat. But on the bright side, my favorite day of the year - December 26th - is on the horizon.  And then I can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I have 364 days until I have to do it all over again...

2012

I've been dreading 2012 since Y2K. I remember ringing in the New Year in 2000 cloistered in a cabin armed with my husband's idea of the ultimate survival kit - 50 lbs of flour (but no yeast), cases of Dinty Moore Beef Stew (I'm a vegetarian), enough bottled water to fill a pond, and an abundance of aspirin in anticipation of his ensuing headache brought on by being the only male in the presence of a wife and four daughters all suffering from a severe case of cabin fever.

Y2K came and went without incident (except that of my husband using a chain saw to dismantle our new satellite dish after one too many fights amongst the kiddies over possession of the TV remote) but thoughts of the Mayan's catastrophic prediction for 2012 took its place. Will December 21, 2012 be doomsday or just another day? I don't know but I'll read up on it and prepare - just in case. I even gave my my carpool buddy The Worst Case Scenerio Daily Survival Calendar last year for Christmas. Which, in retrospect, was probably not a bad idea considering his break-the-sound-barrier bursts of speed during our commute that left me picking bits of Starbucks healthy breakfast sandwich out of my hair and Zen green tea out of my lap.

Chronic worrywart that I am it was probably not in my best interest to see the movie 2012. However, plagued by recurring nightmares of tidal waves since I was a child, morbid curiousity got the better of me and I just couldn't stay away. The movie evoked the expected fears of impending disaster but it also brought a new worry to mind - that the end of the world will arrive without my discovering the identity of Hubert. Knowing that I might only have 1,125 days in which to find Hubert convinced me that I need to pick up the pace of my chase. As any good survivalist knows the key is to stay informed and have a plan. Till now, my efforts to find Hubert have been capricious but currently I am in the process of formulating a winning game plan. Because as another artist - Pablo Picasso - knowingly once said "Our goals can only be reached through a vehicle of a plan, in which we must fervantly believe, and upon which we must vigorously act. There is no other route to success." With his words in mind I set to work on my Chasing Hubert Preparedness Plan....

"What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything." Vincent van Gogh

Hubert may be my current obsession but as a child I was a bonafide bookworm. If a  book wasn't handy I would read the back of a cereal box. One of my most memorable childhood reads was "The Diary of a Young Girl" by Anne Frank. Her quote "In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart" remains etched in my mind (no pun intended) because 1) it's so inspirational and 2) it's so far removed from my own philosophy. I believe people intrinsically suck. I'm not including all of the human race in my theory but if mankind were represented in a pie chart then a Weight Watchers slice would represent all that is good. A pessimistic view, for sure, but expect less and you're pleasantly surprised, expect the most and you're consistently disappointed.

Since going public with my search for Hubert my faith in people has been somewhat restored. I have received suggestions, support, advice and encouragement in my quest to discover the identity of this obscure artist. Some of this even coming from perfect strangers.  One in particular signs off with the simple word "courage" which gives me just that when things look bleak. I've attained the dubious distinction of the world's foremost collector of ......... someone?

To all my fellow Hubert collectors/admirers out there please feel free to to post your comments/ advice/suggestions because the more people that get involved the greater the number of clues, the more information gleaned and the greater chance we can crack this case. More importantly, if Hubert's art can have such a positive effect on me, a reformed misanthrope, imagine what good it could do for the rest of the population! Courage....

Timing Is Everything

I've always had problems with timing - from cooking Thanksgiving dinner when the turkey wasn't edible until after dessert was served, to not quite making it to the delivery room in time to give birth, to being the first car stopped after the last car in front of me made it over the bridge when it was shut down for hours due to a jumper. On my birthday. Making me the only person not present at my birthday dinner.

My poor timing followed me to Paris. I planned my investigative Parisian excursions carefully, beginning with a longshot and ending with what I thought would be a sure bet.  I was anticipating a slow build to a resounding crescendo when I reached that climactic moment of  discovery. The location I believed would yield the answer to my Hubert questions was Montmartre. Several of Hubert's etchings were set in Montmartre, the area in the 18th arrondisement noted for the white-domed Basilica of the Sacre-Coeur AND the premiere artistic center of Paris.

Montmartre has always been known as the artists colony and since the 19th century thousands of artists have set up their studio on the hill with the panoramic view of the city. Along with the likes of Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and Renoir, Hubert set up his easel here to sketch what would become his etchings titled "Montmartre-L'Eglise Saint-Pierre", "Montmartre-La Place du Tertre", and "Montmartre-Le Square Saint-Pierre". When I read about  Musee de Montmarte, museum of cultural history, housed in the oldest dwelling in Montmartre, containing a collection of paintings, photographs, posters, and manuscripts documenting Montmartre's history, I knew this would be my best shot at unearthing clues about Hubert. At the very least, perhaps someone there could guide me further along in my quest. At best, perhaps someone there knew of Hubert or would recognize one of the crumpled, sweat-stained copies of his etchings I'd been carrying  in my purse since my arrival in Paris. Like a new mother who carries an album of photos and obnoxiously subjects any unfortunate victim in her path to a photo op of her darling newborn, so did I break out my copies of Hubert's etchings to any French citizen who even glanced in my direction.

That Monday, our last day in Paris, I awoke early to the sound of heavy rains hitting the window of our hotel. Not to be deterred, armed with umbrellas, raincoats, a map, my French dictionary and my etching copies, my husband and I set out for our trek to Montmartre. Three connecting Metro rides, several blocks in drenching rain, 2 glasses of wine in a cafe to dry off where I unwittingly mis-translated a phrase for my husband who proceeded to say something rather profane about the waiter's mother, hundreds of quadricep-building steps, and a steamy funicular ride later we arrived. Only to discover that Musee de Montmartre est ouvert tous les jours sauf le Lundi. Yes, closed on Mondays.

I refuse to give up. I'm sending off an e-mail to le Musee to beg for information. In English this time. I just hope they can read English better than I can speak French....