Reflecting on Hank Hartung

A few weeks ago, we visited Mom to start packing for her move to our home. We spent quite a bit of time sorting through her possessions, deciding whether to move them, give them away, distribute to her grandchildren or dispose of them. I had always liked one of the paintings my father had bought in Europe in the 70s. It had hung over my parents' sofa for over 30 years and depicted a mountain scene, featuring a chalet in the center. Ellen liked it too, since it had the 'sunset' colors she's decorating our home with, but she called the chalet a shack. I insisted it was a chalet. She pointed out, "For pity's sake, there's a clothesline with clothes hanging on it. It's a SHACK." "Ok," I conceded, "so it's a middle class chalet." Since it was an original, I noted the artist's name and made a mental note to google the guy to see if he had ever achieved acclaim. A few days went by before I reminded myself to investigate, but when I looked up Hartung on the web, only Hans and Dean Hartung returned. Dean didn't have much renown, but Hans' work was on display in the Chicago Museum of Art, the Tate Gallery in London, and New York's art museum. Sotheby's and Christie's auction houses advertised sales of his works. Nah, it couldn't be that guy, because Hans Hartung was an abstract artist, but I called Mom anyway and asked her to tell me the first name of the painter. She couldn't read it, so I set it aside and thought no more about it.

This weekend we returned to help Mom finish packing in preparation for her move on the 8th. It occurred to me to look at the painting again. The artist had signed his name H. Hartung. Oh my. Could it be? I told both Mom and Ellen about the possibility that this might actually be a Hans Hartung, rationalizing to myself that maybe he painted a landscape for some quick cash to fund his serious mission in abstract art. After all, I did view a shack to be a chalet, so that implied some degree of abstraction. How do we confirm this, like right NOW? Of course, look up his work on the web and see if you can find his signature. Mom has web TV, which is useful for text e-mail, but hideously slow for web surfing, since it's based on 56K dial-up. I began my investigation, interrupted by Mom occasionally asking if I had found anything yet. No, but I persevered, doing google searches for Hans Hartung's signature. Suspense grew as I narrowed my search, finally finding a site with artist signatures. Hans Hartung was listed as number 145, but getting to the 145th signature in the list was no trivial thing on a dial-up connection. Ellen was by my side as I paged ever so slowly to our goal, excitement growing the closer we got. All kinds of fantasies of having an Antiques Roadshow moment flew through my head, until finally, number 145 was ready for display. I clicked on it and.....silence between Ellen and I. Ellen ultimately said, "it looks like a heartbeat on an EKG." It looked nothing like the H. Hartung so clearly inscribed on the painting. In fact, if Hans' signature had been on the painting, I'd never have known who it was in the first place, since it was just a flat line interrupted by two spikes, one at the beginning and one in the middle. With a little sigh, I closed the connection, Ellen turned away and I announced that our painting must have been done by Hank, rather than Hans Hartung. The suspense and thrill I felt during the hour or two spent on the hunt for unexpected wealth and a momentous discovery, reminded me that the joy of a thing is often found in its pursuit. So here's to Hank Hartung, or whoever H. may be. Thanks for the ride.