Paul Eric Hultberg aka Paul Hammer-Hultberg • January 6, 1926–December 3, 2019
“There are those who dream of death as a waking up from life” ~ Paul Hultberg
PAUL by Ethel Hultberg • acrylic on canvas 40″ x 48″ (101.6 cm x 121.92 cm)
INTRODUCTION
Paul Hammer Hultberg passed away on December 3rd of 2019.
We planned a memorial service for him in the Spring of 2020 in France, but due to the current situation facing all of us, it was not to be.
A year had passed. We decided to build a memorial page and create an interactive component where everyone who wanted could participate no matter where they were in the world.
Paul Hultberg circa 1927
We were very moved by the many lovely comments family members received to their Facebook pages in response to the announcements we posted in regard to Paul’s passing. But as the one-year anniversary came and went without a proper memorial we wanted to host a more formal event. A celebration that would provide greater closure and honor the father, husband, brother, teacher, inventor and artist whom we all loved so dearly.
This page and the comment section at the bottom was an opportunity for each of us to share our stories of Paul, our sentiments, poems, pictures, videos and photographs, creating a more permanent record than what would have otherwise been lost in the ever cycling feed of Facebook. It also provides the opportunity for those who are not on social media to be able to participate.
We’ve created this virtual memorial space on our family website where we can keep a permanent record of whatever is shared. We began gathering on January 6th, 2021, which would have been Paul’s 95th birthday. We’re glad you’ve joined us and we would love to hear from you. So, when you’re done perusing the page, you can leave comments and respond to the comments of other visitors and share whatever your heart desires.
The comment section at the bottom of the page opened on January 6th, 2021. We originally intended to keep the commenting open for one week, but decided to keep it open indefinitely, at least until such time that spammers discover it and begin using it for their own purposes.
NOTE: We encourage those wanting to place images, photos or short videos into the comment section, but because of security limitations you’ll have to email the file to Lawrence at admin@hultberg.com and he will upload it for you and place it with your comment.
Mabel Hammer, Paul’s mother died in 1936 when he was only 8 years old. She had modeled for advertisements published in Ladies Home Journal for Gold Medal Flour, toothpaste and other things.
When Paul’s mother Mabel died, his father John sent Paul and his sister to live with relatives in Fresno California. The two older brothers stayed with their father. In order to be sure they all remained close, the children were required to write to each other on a weekly basis. Drawings were allowed, so the correspondence included lots of cartooning. This was influential in Paul’s own path toward becoming an artist, and was perhaps for his brother John as well, for he too was a painter.
“I often apply the unfired enamel (a sand-like material) to copper in a manner reminiscent of the way sand is affected by the forces of nature–that is, by gravity (dusting, throwing, dropping); by wind (blowing); by erosion (scratching, pushing, pulling); by water (dribbling, splashing); or by a combination of these in which the memory of the fluidity of water can be preserved by means of the fact that dry sand will stick to a pattern of wetness. I feel that this mimicry of processes, rather than the artful delineation of appearances, allows me to work as abstractly as nature and yet evoke many of those emotions which constitute our response to the visible world and that often give is a feeling of ‘place’. I fire my work on a bed of torches so arranged as to travel along a track which will accommodate a piece up to ten feet in length.”
Astronauts, yes
But also poets
Visit the moon
~ Translations From the Limbic: Forty-One Small Poems by Paul Hammer-Hultberg
Leaves of Fall
Borne on the water
Pass me by
Last nights dream
Mingles with
Waters of the creek
Last nights rain
Steals away
In the morning mist
Some rain drops
Briefly patterns
The moving waters
Trees and clouds
Mirrored in the stream
Are dashed upon the rocks
~ A Deck of Fifty One: Fifty-One Small Poems by Paul Hammer-Hultberg
Hultberg family portrait by George Ancona circa 1970
“After having found the impetus to write, the problem is really not at all what to write, which is probably quite obvious to you for certainly you cannot write what is not in you to write), but rather what not to write (is the problem); for actually everything which is possible for you to write, you have already written (figuratively that is, in the mind) and what remains for you to do is to sift out from this mass that which you want to be read, and this, write! Aldous Huxley once caused a character of his to say, in effect: “You can do nothing in life which is not like you”; which is something like saying, “You cannot walk down this lane and escape the fact of having walked down this lane”.
~ Paul Hultberg
In my mind’s eye I see Paul sitting on the terrace of Les Deux Garcons cafe, on the Cour Mirabeau in Aix en Provence savoring a big fat Havana cigar, with smoke curling softly around him. Over perpetual cups of coffee he talks about Cezanne’s fascination with the light and shade traveling across the facade of Mont Sainte-Victoire during the course of a day.
We can watch this sun and shadow play from the yard of the little house we are staying in. Cezanne’s studio is nearby. We found it while driving to a vineyard to buy wine for dinner. That was 50 years ago and we had no thought of ever living in Europe.
In 2008, years ago we moved to Sauve, a small medieval village in southern France. We bought a house overlooking a river and packed a couple of suitcases with our clothes and left our entire life behind; the house Paul built, our studios and gallery, the gardens and orchard, our books, and all our artwork.
Lawrence moved from California to stay in the New York house until it sold. Jesse moved down from Paris and spent a year helping make this 1000 year old stone house habitable; electricity, plumbing, all had to be done. Peter, Marilyn and grandkids, Sam, Gabe and Lawrence’s son Nathan came to visit. And a few years later, Cassie moved from the west coast to live nearby.
Paul, now over 80, settled in as if he had always lived here. He made friends easily, went for his daily walks in the nearby woods, did his yoga on the terrace, and gave up cigars. We were very happy. He became more interested in writing his haiku and fanciful stories about talking stones, than he was in painting or print making. He always continued to draw and made friends with Robert Crumb, our near neighbor, whose graphic abilities appealed to him and whose good nature was much like his own.
For a few years this was our calm and peaceful life. When Paul became forgetful, we’d laugh chalking it up to old age. When he developed some neurological problems and had trouble walking we sent back to N.Y. for his beloved canes which he had always taken with him when walking in the woods.
His physical deterioration developed slowly but soon we had to admit there was a serious problem. Here in Sauve the doctor’s advice was clear, “Go home”, he said, and “enjoy the rest of your life together”. “There is no cure or beneficial medication for Alzheimer’s.”
And that’s what we did. Jesse stayed on with us to help and the generous French social security system provided nurses, physical therapists, whatever was necessary as things progressed. Cassie was also nearby and on hand.
When Paul fell and broke his hip, even though the surgeon’s work was successful, it robbed him of the motivation to move. Bedridden he required more intensive care so the nurses came twice a day to attend him. The doctor made regular visits and the physical therapists helped him to move his body.
Paul never forgot who we were and was completely conscious and aware that all of his children came to stay with him during this period.
Thanks to Sauve’s medical staff, who were here at the end, Paul’s death was painless and peaceful.
He lives in my mind as the strong handsome loving man I married. He was intelligent, funny, incredibly generous and a marvelous, sensitive, gifted teacher. My teacher. Encouraging me to paint, and giving me his studio was the most fabulous gift of love and generosity I could ever have imagined.
Two of his own sayings, carved onto a piece of wood by a Rasta friend in Jamaica, hangs on our terrace here in Sauve.
One side says,
“Self Help Is On The Way”,
and the other side ,
“Where There’s a Whim There’s a Way”.
Paul filled our life with love, imagination and possibilities.
I can’t imagine there being a better way to live.
Ethel Hultberg
Paul and Ethel Hultberg
Drawing by Paul Hultberg given to his wife Ethel circa 1950
“Among the losses of my life, there is one which is among the most anguishing, and that is, I never kept a written record of the sequence of my readings, or, for that matter, my first encounters with the work of poets, composers, authors, artists, whose concepts have become the stepping stones in the brook of my life. If only I had such a list now, such a treasured guide could lead me to retrace the steps of my past, and perhaps relive some of the thrills of discovery I once experienced”
~ Paul Hultberg
Ethel and Paul Hultberg in their jungle-like patio in Pomona, NY
Paul Hammer Hultberg was :
A Poet, a Punster and a Writer.
He loved Haikus, William Blake. and wrote his own translation of Beowulf.
He quoted Shakespeare and Chaucer in Olde English.
In modern English he wrote The Two Stones.
A children’s adventure where most of the characters were various rocks who lived in a different space/time that he named the Flickering. If you want a basic understanding of geology, I recommend The Two Stones by Paul Hammer Hultberg.
He was a flutist, a cartoonist, a yogi, and an acupressure and laminating enthusiast.
Most known as an enamel muralist and abstract expressionist.
He later turned to portraits and landscapes.
One year he took plastic wrappings from the cigars he smoked and glued them to transparent revolving polarized discs. He then projected light through the revolving discs which when refracted from the plastic, displayed moving shapes, forms and colors wherever it landed. True to his Scandinavian roots Paul called it the Lumenflinger (pronounced in a Swedish accent).
He was a photographer and a filmmaker. I was ten years old when he got all of his friends and family together to make a western satire called Bad Mattresses.
He was a graphic artist and graphics teacher. He systematically gave all of his students an A. What was the point of a lower grade as long as you showed up and tried?
He was a World War II veteran who participated in the occupation of Japan where he picked up some of the language.
He was a dandy, and an orphan who made a family. He was a humorist who’s jokes flew far above the head of his audience.
He was a Californian and a New Yorker who had traveled in Mexico, the Philippines, Japan and finally settled in France.
He was an ex-patriot. He was an avant-gardist.
My father improved my kindness by showing me how it’s done.
He demonstrated to me how self destruction can be willfully slowed and/or stopped by simply slowing or stopping it.
He eased me away from my fears of love and creativity.
Alongside my mother, he created who I am by example, and molded my way of life.
I couldn’t have done it without them both and I will always be grateful.
Here’s an old Swedish song that Paul loved to quote
My name is Yon Yonson,
I live in Wisconsin.
I work in a lumber yard there.
The people I meet as
I walk down the street,
They say “Hello!”
I say “Hello!”
They say “What’s your name.”
I say: My name is Yon Yonson… (repeated again and again).
Here’s to all of us repeating again and again, the love and kindness that Paul left with us.
Jesse Hultberg
“I’m persistently amazed by the realization that pigment particles unlock the spectral colors sealed in light, and that the artist can bind these particles to canvas in selectively combined patterns and markings out of which arises like a spectre, the optical illusion which Goethe called the visual truth. But what truly amazes me is that in doing so, the artist can also express something of his own.”
~ Paul Hultberg
Landscape • Paul Hultberg
“Dad…? You there…?”
“…Yeah, I’m here… How did you do that?”
“What…?”
“Get me here?”
“I’m not sure… I was just thinking of you… then, I just thought… Ask him… go ahead… so I asked out loud… “Dad, You there??” … and then you answered. So… I guess this is how it works…”
“Hahahha Yeah!”
“Ha!! of course, you knew all along how things like this ‘get happened’ – didn’t you??! I should have known!”
“Yep!”
“Ok, Right!! Well I just wanted to tell you that I called you because I want to talk to you… and I’m sorry that I haven’t asked for you to come until now… cuz, it’s been a whole year since you left the planet. God, I really miss you so much, Dad! I should have at least tried before this…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that…! I’m always around, I’m just ‘Out Here’ now somehow… and you’re just sort of ‘Over There’, somehow… You know, it’s kind of like in “The Wizard of Oz”… You remember how it went… Right? When he gets up into the hot air balloon and fires it up and it takes off… and Dorothy yells up for him to WAIT… But the balloon just keeps rising and rising – and all he can yell back is… “I can’t stop this thing, I don’t know how it works!!” Remember that?? Well, that’s kind of how this is and it’s ok. I don’t really know ‘how it works’ either, but here we are Somehow, together!”
“God, Dad! Oh man, there are just so many things… I don’t know where to begin! I want to tell about ALL the things that happened and all that we did together… All the stories! All the jokes! All the insanely funny things you ever said and did… EVERYTHING! I want All the memories of being with you to be here!”
“Well, there’s plenty of time for all that from where I am… an INFINITE amount of time Out here, Whew!!! – Let me tell you! So you can start wherever you want, and if you can’t finish it all today… there’s always tomorrow… Because, from where I am… You guessed it – ‘The Sky’s the limit’!! – haha, to coin a phrase!! So, I can come to be with you anytime you call…”
“I want to tell them about the “LMNO” story.”
“OH, hahaha, that’s a good one! You were just 4 or 5, I think… and I was getting you ready to go to your kindergarten class… and suddenly you asked me…”Dad, how do you spell LMNO?” Because you had been given the assignment to write out the alphabet… and you said you didn’t know how to spell that part… Hahaha I really laughed over that one!”
“Yeah – yeah! That one!”
“Well… I explained to you that they were all separate letters in the alphabet and then I showed you how to write it out, of course – and we put your coat on and then, when we got outside… you told me that I had to walk all the way on the other side of the boulevard… because you said you were a big girl now… And, I have to tell you … I was pretty nervous about letting you walk down that sidewalk all the way to school, all by yourself – with me all the way on the other side of the street… and, I tried not to look at you too much because I knew you wanted to feel independent…”
“But… You let me do it anyway!”
“Yep! I wanted you to feel like you could do it – and you did it! I was amazed that you never even once looked over at me… You just looked straight ahead – marching like a little soldier – a tiny little pink hooded soldier, and you had your paper with your alphabet written on it… I was proud of you!”
“Oh, Dad… that was a good day.”
“Yeah… I’ll never forget it!”
“Oh… And do you remember the Peanut Butter Cookie story… And Charleen was there too – you remember her don’t you???”
“Sure… I remember that day and I remember Charleen too!!! How could I forget it?? That day will go down in Infamy!!! I remember that you asked me if I would like to have some peanut butter cookies… and how could I ever say ‘NO’ to that idea??”
“Yeah, Dad… I knew you would say yes to peanut butter cookies!”
“Well, Who could ever refuse peanut butter cookies… unless maybe if they were Chocolate Chips?”
“And… what did I do??”
“Well, as I recall, you put the jar of peanut butter on the counter and as you turned to grab a baking pan, your elbow hit that jar… and it flew off the counter onto the floor with such a whoosh – and it smashed into smithereens!! All that peanut butter got just pasted onto the floor… and all the shards of glass were mixed up with it… it was hopeless! And, I will never forget the look on your face… hahahaha… “Dad???!!!” you asked me with your eyes…”
“And you said… Don’t, worry… I ‘ll just go to the store and get another one.” And you took off in a flash… Charleen and I just stared at the mess on the floor… And then Charleen said to me when you left, “Cass… I love your Dad!!! He is so great! I mean he just took off to the store like Superman, ALL just for a jar of peanut butter!!!”
“Yep, hahahahahaha and then, I got back with the jar of peanut butter… and you placed in it on the counter in the same spot…”
“I know… and then, like an idiot… I… just…
“Yep – you turned just like before to get the baking pan, and your elbow hit the jar just exactly like the first time… And BAM! That jar hit the floor like a ton of bricks!”
“Yeah.. none of us could believe it… We all just looked at it.. amazed… and then I looked up at you… I was like… just hopeless, wasn’t I??”
“Haahhahaha oh yeah… and I knew what I had to do. I just said… Yep… Don’t worry – I’m already going – be back in a minute! We need those cookies BADLY!!!”
You see, my Dad, Paul Hultberg, was a magical being. And one of his most magical qualities was his amazing patience – and another of his most magical qualities was his never -ending generosity of spirit!
He was a genius painter and a world-famous enamelist. And, he invented a new way to make enamels on copper which I don’t think anyone has ever reproduced yet. Yeah, he was a great enamelist – and great teacher.
In fact, he was a Master Teacher, because he really understood how to take complicated concepts and techniques for doing things, and somehow he magically knew how to make them seem easy and uncomplicated – and his students loved him for it. He taught painting and drawing and graphic arts at Rockland Community College, a two year college in Suffern, New York. But, many would come back to take the same classes he taught over and over again for years, because he was always innovating and doing new things. I took all of his art classes. So I got the pleasure of watching him with his students. He made some accomplished painters out of tired old retirees who had never put a brush to canvas before, thus helping many people to rejuvenate their lives in a whole new way.
And, before he and my mother moved to France, he loved walking the trails in the woods near their old house in New York and quietly helped to keep them in good order (someone had to do it, so he did it, and like any good secret caretaker, he didn’t ask for a medal for doing it, he just did it because it was the right thing to do).
Among other things, he loved poetry and music. And, from the time he was a small boy until nearly the last year of his life, he drew cartoons which were often hilarious and sometimes also quite poignant.
He could also recite Chaucer in ‘Olde English’ and Beowulf. He knew many Shakespeare sonnets by heart. ‘Willy the Shake’ he called him. And he was infamous for his for his endless puns, and jokes, and sometimes practical jokes too!
One time my parents had a big party and there was this one guy there who was known for literally taking any drug offered to him. So, Dad told this guy that he had a really great drug that he thought he would just love. Then he ran upstairs and got an Alka-Seltzer tablet and he scraped off the logo from it and carved the word ‘EXIT’ on it and gave to him. That guy was thrilled and downed it right away. Needless to say, the fellow had quite a surprise experience! “EXIT”, only my father could have thought of that one!
One of the things he LOVED the most was making us kids breakfast in the morning. So, many a Sunday morning, he would give Ethel a chance to sleep in, and he would make us Buckwheat pancakes in the shapes of mermaids and swans. And we were ALWAYS allowed as much maple syrup as we wanted!
And in the dead of winter, he would pack us kids up in blankets and take us riding through the park (also always on a Sunday for Ethel’s sake), in the Old crank-up Model ‘A’ which had curtains with purple fringe. Soon he would stop, when he found a marsh by the side of the road and get out of the car with a glass mayonnaise jar. And we would ask him “Dad, what are you doing with that jar”, and he would say “I’m going to make a ONE QUART WORLD!!” And he would dip that jar deep into the muck of the swamp… and seal it up tight. Then we would drive back to the house, and he would place that jar on the window sill in the sun, and we would wait and wait for days to see what would happen.
When He knew the One Quart World was ready he would gather us kids on the couch to watch the show. He would place the One Quart World on a tall stool and hang an old sheet on the wall in front of it. Then he would shine a bright lamp behind the jar and the show began!
All the little marsh creatures who had been sleeping in the wintery marsh, after a couple of days on the sunny window sill – they came to LIFE, because they thought it was SPRING TIME. We could see them swimming and frolicking in their little One Quart World. Of course, we being little kids we had no idea about these tiny creatures and their busy life. Those were the kinds of things our Dad did with us all the time. To this day I marvel at how he could think up these amazing and wonderful things to show us!
Paul was a Man for All Seasons! All of our friends and family loved him, and we will always love him! He was made for LOVE – that was his purpose really! We were so lucky to have him in our lives!
Cassie Callan
My advice is this: Leave the beaten path and take the short-cut that leads to the riches of life!
What is this short-cut to riches? That’s what I want to know!
Take a walk in the country. It’s good to get alone.
You can get a loan in the country?
Sure. It’s an excellent way to get alone. Listen, go to the riverbank.
Oh, at the River Bank?
Yes, that’s right, go to the bank, sit down and ask yourself: Can I do this without a prophet?
A profit! That’s what I need!
Wait! Maybe you don’t need a prophet. Maybe you can invest in yourself.
Of course, yes! Invest!!
In mySELF??
~ Paul Hultberg
My father was the kindest person I ever knew and likely, the person I have loved the most in the world. My dad represented the very model of what kindness is and perhaps should be, at least for me. Some part of him is in me when I extend kindness towards others.
Dad taught me how to use a paintbrush when painting a window sash; how to hammer a nail straight (he was so good at that), how to saw wood, and how to make a fire in the fire place using just 1 piece of newspaper.
Growing up I’d often be around to help him with various projects or repairs around the house. Like most kids I wanted to do the cool dangerous jobs working the fancy tools like drilling a hole into sheet metal or sharpening the blade of our lawn mower, but he rarely let me, mostly cause he wanted to get the job done. I’d nag him so much he would just go off, go the bathroom, get a beer or smoke a cigar, until I lost interest. But he never stopped inviting me to help the next time. He had a Yankee screwdriver I use to love to play with to the point of almost breaking. I still have it. I don’t think it works.
When I was 10 years old dad was building his new studio. He commissioned me to do a very important job. I spent 3 days over a weekend helping mix cement and set up bricks and concrete blocks close by for the bricklayers to conveniently reach, slap cement on and place them to build the exterior wall. I really loved doing that. I felt so grown up, like I was part of the work crew.
It’s my father’s actions that speak to me the most. When I’m “in action” I often feel I’m being like him in some way. Mar and I just bought our first home. When visiting him, his dementia raging, a few weeks before he passed away I showed him a picture of it and explained to him that it was my home and he gave me huge smile. He really got it. He understood my happiness.
Tending to it is like my new hobby and I love it, just like he did. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as him when it comes to being handy but because of him I go into a project fully expecting I will succeed. Sometimes I don’t, but it never occurs to me that I won’t, before giving it a try. I never felt more like him as I do now.
Home and family were very important to him. His quiet and steady presence, his determination, his kindness and good humor, and his being grounded with knowledge of physical materials and the physical world, may have provided a necessary example that keeps me quietly resolute on my path.
Peter Hultberg
Portrait by Paul Hultberg of his grandson Nathan • acrylic on canvas • 48″ x 60″
Paul Hultberg was a quiet, soft-spoken man. Some might say reserved, and perhaps even aloof at times. He was a man of concentrated reflection who pondered the paradoxical mysteries of life.
He loved nature, spending time walking in the woods or sitting by a pond or stream, musing over the ever changing reflections caste upon its surface. He was fascinated by the myriad ways nature manifested its complex designs upon the world, at times even mesmerized by its abstractions.
He sought to duplicate and incorporate into his work the same processes that were at play in the surrounding environment. His imagination was also captivated by the interplay of light and shadow, something he mastered and mirrored well in his drawings and paintings.
As talented and skilled as he was as an artist, one might say that he was really an inventor at heart, a perpetual experimenter. He delved deeply into processes, seeking to figure out how things worked. How elements interacted and played upon each other. Often spending more time exploring the processes leading to a body of work, than on the eventual outcome, the ultimate distillation of his experiments.
These experimentations were well documented in his copious notes, as were his sketches, doodles and privately expressed thoughts. He played with words in the same manner he did the elements, testing and teasing out with his poems, puns and anecdotes their many layered meanings, interplays and usefulness. His quick wit and jocular persona displayed a wry sense of humor that often highlighted the ironic complexities of life.
While I can’t say that I inherited my father’s talent or skills as an artist, for that was a developed craft he well honed with study and practice, I feel fortunate to have at least received the creative spirit, if you will, from both him and my mother, and a common curiosity from my father about the inner workings of the natural world and its underlying geometric forms and fractally expressed components. The very building blocks of all that we perceive in the physical realm. I suppose that my predilection for documenting and archiving life experiences could be seen as analogous to my father’s own penchant for chronicling the many steps he took on his life path and in exploring his mediums of choice and producing a body of work, as well as the recording of his ideas for inventions and new processes.
I learned a lot about my father through his art and by the way he approached life and his life’s work. Being the custodian of the family archive, I’m still discovering things through his notebooks, sketchbooks and journals that were previously unknown to me.
I truly idolized my father, though I’m not sure he ever really knew that. Having left home relatively early in life (at 16), and soon thereafter having a family and businesses of my own in California (at 20), we didn’t have the opportunity to spend as much time together as I would have liked in retrospect, other than during holidays and family gatherings and such. Unlike me, he wasn’t much of a phone person, and neither of us were letter writers.
And though I never had the good fortune to take or even attend any of his classes, I cherish the time I had with him growing up. Being able to watch him work in his studio and even upon occasion being able to make enamels with him.
As a child I delighted in his drawings, caricatures and cartoons. Begging him to play Exquisite Corpse. The game where a paper is folded in thirds with one person drawing the head, another the body and the last the legs and feet. All done without seeing what the other’s drew until the paper was unfolded. I couldn’t wait to see the part Pop drew! …because it was always so cool. I called him pOp, because that was how he signed my birthday cards, with little rays coming off the O as if it were a balloon popping. And of course, his sleight of hand routines were always entertaining. I’m forever grateful for him teaching me the classic French Drop, for palming a quarter. I’ve entertained countless children over the years with that one little trick.
Paul Hultberg’s public legacy as an artist is already caste as an abstract “enamel muralist”. And though the broader scope of his creative exploits far surpasses the limitations imposed by that moniker, he was certainly a pioneer in that endeavor, using the enamel medium to produce abstract expressionist ‘paintings’ on copper and steel unlike anyone before him, or since.
Over the last three years I’ve been steadily conserving a large body of his enamels, cataloging and preparing pieces for exhibition, publication, donations and sales. The body of work spans the four decades he dedicated to expressing his unique vision in that particular medium.
It’s a great honor for me to be the custodian of this remarkable body of work, and to be conserving it and helping to bring it to the attention of a wider audience. The work stands alone. Though I hesitate to label it as his “life’s work”, because his life was more than just that. Our father had moved on from the enamels more than thirty years ago, producing other considerable bodies of work. He also contributed greatly to the lives of his many students over the years. The life he gave me and to each of my siblings, and all the lives he touched upon with his teachings were also his life’s work. As was the lifetime he dedicated to his wife, my mother, whom he adored.
Lawrence Hultberg
Family Portrait by George Ancona
Take a moment to listen to Tightrope, a beautiful original tune by Jesse Hultberg from his album 20 Years Old. If you watch it full screen you’ll get a closer view of the portrait paintings by Paul Hammer-Hultberg that Rachael Wolf of Wolfworks Studios used in producing this lovely video for Jesse. It’s also a nice tune to have playing while viewing this page.
If you have not already watched the award winning film Reflections: the imagery of Paul Hultberg enamelist produced in 1967 by filmmaker/photographer George Ancona, or if you wish to see it again in the digitally remastered version, we invite you to watch it now…
Paul Hultberg self portrait • acrylic on canvas
One of the things that I always marveled at was my father’s uncanny ability to recite long stanzas of ancient verse by rote that he had committed to memory as a young man, from Shakespeare to Chaucer to old gallic poems.
He was well versed in the classics; literary, musical and all the master artists.
Here, in the video on the right, Paul is recorded by Jesse reciting works by “Willy the Shake” and “Geoffrey the Chauce”, while sitting in a small park along the River Vidourle in the Village of Sauve where he and Ethel lived together for 12 years, and where Ethel and Cassie still live.
Jesse is currently living in Monpellier, about a 45 minute drive from Sauve. Peter is living in New Jersey and I’m in Oklahoma City.
In the video below, Pop recites more Olde English verse sitting in the living room of their home in Sauve.
Lawrence Hultberg
Paul-Hammer Hultberg • photo Cassie Callan
This was the sunrise on the morning of December 3, 2019, the day Paul passed away…
So amazing to see these photos of Paul and Ethel through the years. And the writings of Paul and all the Hultbergs really flood my mind and heart with so much love and great memories. Paul was my graphic arts teacher at RCC and the Franklin’s were very close to the Hultbergs , especially my Dad Philip, and reading about Paul’s love of language and puns and jokes really makes me see their connection and friendship. I’m overwhelmed scrolling through all this art and poetry and by the emotion of all I have become because of Paul and Ethel.
One time I asked Ethel how it was that they were so “rich”- with the indoor pool and the big dinner parties ( and the amazing dinner table!)-and I remember her telling me that they weren’t rich- it was that they lived well & that it didn’t take money for one to live well. And I remember that as an epiphany in my young mind- especially when I was well on the way to becoming another “starving artist”.
To have been fortunate enough to have gotten as much time with Paul; being an intrigued kid, a friend and a student, I am eternally grateful.
Thank you my dear friends for this wonderfully tender sharing of your father/husband Paul. I can only say that I loved him deeply for more years than the actual hours we shared.
Remarkable man, thank you again and all love! – Howard Coon
Paul lives in my heart and in my art – I’m so glad to have been a small part of it all
Me too.
This is such a beautiful elegy to Paul. Thanks to everyone who set it up. Paul was an amazing person. Here is a poem he was fond of. Love, Nahum
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
— Bill Carlos Bills
Very cool. It’s in Paul’s writing style almost
a lyrical & masterful visionary, and toujours – a gentle-man.
Wow, so many beautiful words, feelings, poetry, music…such a wonderful tribute to Paul.
I only met Paul a few times at the Hultberg home, – that brings to mind that incredible dining room table, all the artwork, and the dog (Trans?) who I never knew if he was coming or going.
One time, Jesse, Rachel and I were in the living room or kitchen, and Paul passed by while making an unusual sound. He stopped, turned around and said something like, ‘ok, it is time for you all to learn harmonics’. And so he taught us, until each one of us was able to do it. It was powerful when all four of us were doing it at the same time. It always feels a bit eerily spiritual when the harmonics happen. It is also a moment when time stops and I feel a bit outside my body. I don’t know why those random times happen that I choose to do it, but I know that I do it, and when I do, I always think of Paul.
Hello, and shout out to Ethel. You and I had a conversation about Feminism, that was truly important. Thank you!
Hugs to all!
I can’t remember this exact moment but I can be sure that Paul was demonstrating Mongolian chanting and we were probably playing Dungeons and Dragons (maybe). Thank you so much for this memory Jill
In 1972, I was the recipient of a Louis Comfort Tiffany apprenticeship grant to work with John Glick at his Plum Tree Pottery in Farmington, Michigan. It was Paul who helped facilitate that event. That experience completely changed the course of my life. To say that Paul was the catalyst is to minimize the truth of that event. My year with John led to a three year residency at Penland. Connection to Paul, the connection to John then led to my becoming Art Director of Studio Potter magazine for the 35 years and working with Gerry Williams. The one thing Paul suggested and encouraged me to do was to connect to the NYC art scene by going to openings and meeting other artists. That was a road not taken, but as with much of what Paul did for his students, it was another option to consider. Our (Jeani and my) buying a house in Sauve and planning to move there in the near future is a tribute to my own love of what France and what it meant to my father. But again it is Paul’s being there which is the catalyst. Reading some of the words which others have said is simply an affirmation of the truth that Paul’s being is and was. Thank you Ethel, Jesse, Lawrence and Cassie for giving us this forum and sharing your own truths.
My memory is crap, but aww I carry some foggy yet beautiful memories of all y’all, hanging out at your house from age 13 on. I remember how quiet Paul was, I remember hearing him walking through the house calling out for Jesse or Peter or the dog – but in a normal, low-level speaking voice that seemed to get quieter as he got closer. I remember more than once, hanging out at the house I would cross paths with him, and he’d just blurt some obscure joke or silliness, and then we’d just go our separate ways chuckling to ourselves.
There was some moment, some event (no idea how exactly it started), maybe I phoned looking for Jesse – and he said to me or I to him “I’m worried”. After that, for years, decades, whenever we greeted one another, we’d each ask the other if we were worried. He loved to play.
I love all you beauties so much. You’re all in my heart forever and I feel such a divine gift to have you there.
I love you too and when you’re near, I’m less worried. Thank you.
While Paul was building the greenhouse patio entrance to our house,
there you were almost everyday, looking, watching, keeping him company.
You delighted him.
It is said that it takes a village to raise a child, well, Paul & Ethel are & remain that village.
& though my childhood was fraught in confusion, I always felt (& feel) welcome & a part of this great family & the greater family of all the friends.
I wish I had known him more as an adult – as the world grew & my family moved away.
Yet-
I am ever so grateful, – and LUCKY to have been enriched by his magic.
He is & will always be the enchanter, a magical enigma, hypnotizing us children with his jolly pranks & giving all the kids grounds to explore the joys of childhood unfettered while in the company of his beautiful family.
Peace, Love & Paint the heavens while you watch over us dear dear man.
b
ps. sent some photos in from my visit to Sauve in 2017.
hopeful that the kiss remains in live motion form.
I love you Hultbergs all so much
And we love you
The love is mutual, Britta, and we await your return to Sauve.
Hello my beloved community. For some reason I thought we’d be looking at each other and listening in real time. But now as I look through these comments and images I feel more real than time. My memories of Paul are small. What I’m mostly feeling are his effects on his children and their effects on me. I have images of the compound where I spent some moments. They are like Paul’s paintings. The brush strokes mean more and go deeper than the subjects. I remember the Hohner Pianet, just one of the examples I experienced in this house of thinking outside of the cage. This piano was part of the puzzle I was trying to piece together of being a musician. I remember Peter and Marilyn’s wedding. So lucky to be there. I think I remember Funk and Wagnal rehearsing there. Being on that land was like being at an amusement park of possibility. As reflect back I realize that Paul was one big butterfly flapping his wings. Many of my life monsoons can be traced back to Paul and Ethel. And you all.
Such a sweet comment,,,,just like you. Happy to be part of your good memories.. Hugs, e.
Reading the remarks at the top made me cry, I felt like I didn’t know him that well until I really had time with him at RCC when he took me into the art department saying that I needed to get back into painting! It is really true, he gave everyone an A who made an attempt to learn! He was like a Summerhillian educator! And all of the times I had wished that he was my father, came up to me in my mind’s eye! I wish that I was able to have more communication with him but once he moved to France it was not possible! I miss the times we talked when he would pick me up and drive me to school! He was someone special and I will remember the fatherly ways! I hope everyone finds a way to memorialize him with all the thoughts that they remember about him. It was difficult for me to say goodbye to my mother as well, so I know how frustrating it is to experience the realization that someone is really gone!
Hi Jackie, Thank you for your comments. This was a response to you from Ethel who inadvertently posted it under someone else’s comment…
We are here, Jackie, still kicking. I have a memory of you. Maybe you were 2 or 3 years old
and Francis had made you a costume with a pink tutu which you insisted on wearing to bed.
It was a fragile garment, so pretty, and we couldn’t convince you to take it off. Francis sat up
half the night making you another one. We laughed and laughed at how adorable you looked
wearing it.
kisses, e.
My partner Bernard Jazzar and I so appreciate the family’s sharing their treasured memories. They have certainly brought Paul to life for us who, unfortunately, never had the opportunity to meet him. Nonetheless, we are honored to have several of his works in the non-profit Enamel Arts Foundation collection. Here’s a link to his page on our website:
https://www.enamelarts.org/paul-hultberg/
Click on the image to see more about each piece.
We will soon be donating these pieces, along with several others generously provided by the family, to prominent art museums throughout the country. Befitting his role as of one of the most inventive artists in the enamels field, Paul’s work will be seen and enjoyed by countless museum visitors – artists, educators, and general museum visitors, alike – for generations to come. We are confident that Paul’s spirit of joy and sharing as well as his commitment to constantly pushing the boundaries will live on through his truly extraordinary body of work.
We are here, Jackie, still kicking. I have a memorry of you. Maybe you were 2 or 3 years old
and Francis had made you a costume with a pink tutu which you insisted on wearing to bed.
It was a fragile garment, so pretty, and we couldn’t convince you to take it off. Francis sat up
half the night making you another one. We laughed and laughed at how adorable you looked
wearing it.
kisses, e.
dear Ethel, Cassie, Lawrence, Peter and Jessie
Many thanks for organizing this Paul memorial. Our first meeting was in the early 80’ies when we came with Véronique to the beautiful Pomona house, as a first step for a US tour. Saying that Paul and Ethel were extremely friendly to us will surprise no one here. Endless discussions, mainly science with Paul and politics with Ethel, wonderful food (Véronque remember Ethel special coquille St Jacques meal). Paul saying to Véronique that they should not interfere with non-gentile discussions … ;-). I also remember (why?) Paul’s dog, nicknamed “glue-pot” by us. Paul and Ethel took very seriously their task of helping the young frenchies for their US trip, sending us to their friends in LA (Tony was one, I do not recall the name of th second, both very friendly), Las Vegas (Mimi) and to Lawrence in San Francisco. This trip was the first among several in the US, at each time a piece of pleasure while spending some time in Pomona… Each time new discussions, new fields of interest … feeling at home…
Paul was a (quite exceptional) mixing of openmindness, curiosity, artistic sensitivity and humour. This cannot be forgotten …
Kisses to all
Rémy and Véronique
Many thanks Remy! So happy to hear from you and for sharing your thoughts about Paul and Ethel. You describe my parents hospitality perfectly. I miss you and Vero sooo much and look forward to the time when we all can visit again. It’s been too long, my friend. Much love and blessings, Peter
Thank you, my darling Frenchies. Over the years we’ve watched your beautiful family grow,
leave the nest and take their adult places in society. To me you are my French family and I
cherish our relationship. Our love for you, the family’s wonderful old house in Pornic where
we spent such good times, was certainly a big part of our desire to move to France.
Thank you for these beautiful memories of all of us being together in Pomona, for keeping
us up to date on the latest scientific happenings, and for Vero making me understand how to
cook Skate wings….which I never thanked her for.
Hope to see you soon again when the pandemic confinement is over. Bisous, e.
Fabulously marvelous and loving. Among this chronicle of colorful anecdotes I learned that it really makes sense to keep some kind of a diary and keep making self portraits. BRAVO BRAVISIMO !
Yes it does!!
When my parents moved to the South of France some 13 years ago or so, I moved back to New York from California where I had lived for 30 years in order to help sell the family home and organize my parent’s artwork and sell off and give away the belongings they left behind. One day I ran across a T-shirt for the band Queens Ryche that had an image of my father on it. I had never seen this before. As it turns out, through a family photographer friend, Bob Dagger, photos he shot of my father were used as a primary image on the band’s, Operation: Mindcrime record album and CD cover, as well as various T-shirts.
Paul was a great guy, a warm spirit and a talented artist. I missed seeing him in his Pomona home when he left for Sauve. I thought of Paul and Ethel as one and feel sympathy for Ehtel’s lonely burden and loss. We met at their favorite sushi restaurant Koto, in Suffern by chance when I said to my then young son Spencer, those are artists sitting over there. He quipped how do you know, so I walked over and introduced myself and we became friends. The hats gave it away.
Yes, that was a lovely chance meeting at Koto. Food proved to be one of our many shared pleasures
like the weekly Thursday (?) lunch crew of artists who came to eat, talk and cook together at your house.
You were an exceptional host and the afternoons we spent eating, walking , talking, and looking at art
were memorable events.. Thank you, Barry, for all of that and your friendship.
I loved dressing Paul. He was so handsome and looked so elegant in whatever he wore. I sometimes teased him calling him my Ken doll. One day, when visiting his brother Don, we found a week long list that laid out all the clothes he would wear to work that week….all color coordinated. When I asked why he needed the list, Don said if he didn’t make the list he’d wear the same clothes everyday. Paul would have worn the same clothes also.
Paul arrived in New York City at the beginning of a cold winter at the end of 1949 wearing a pair of Mexican sandals, his jeans and a sweater. The studio he rented on Bond Street had little to no heat., just a small round pot bellied cast iron wood stove. It was close to Xmas when a huge package arrived from Paul’s Aunt Gig back in L.A. We spent the morning opening up the goodies inside. There were socks, underwear, white handkerchiefs, 2 cans of coffee, tee shirts, soap, a tooth brush, and an enormous box of the famous California SEE’s chocolate. This Xmas box of See’s became a holiday event in our family. Aunt Gig sent a box every year until she died, and Lawrence , years later living in San Francisco, continued the tradition.
A few weeks later, after that Xmas, on Jan. 28, 1949 Paul and I were married in my parents big apartment on West End AVe. My father took Paul to Brooks Brothers to outfit him and buy a wedding suit. Thirteen of my father’s brothers andf sisters arrived with my grandfather along with my mother’s entire family. WE had had a difficult time finding a rabbi to marry us but finally one, a sweet young man agreed reluctantly to convert Paul to Judaism, which Paul had offered to do so that my religious grandparents would come to the wedding. My father, an atheist, was appalled and had objected strenuously to having a rabbi in the house. I spoke with the rabbi about my father’s strong feelings and asked him if the word GOD could be removed from the ceremony. He was gracious and I was grateful. After the ceremony both my grandfathers (who were friends) congratulated Paul in English. I was 18 years old and had never heard either of them speak English. I had no idea they could. For the first year of our marriage some of my relatives spoke slowly and raised theirs voices whenever speaking to Paul, as tho he were an alien who didn’t understand English. Paul was the first non jew to enter my enormous family and many of my older relatives had never had a personal conversation with anyone who wasn’t jewish. But Paul’s natural good natured style prevailed and he was soon accepted.
This is such a moving and beautiful tribute to Paul who was an absolute gem of a person. I laughed and cried reading all the memories and seeing his incredible range of self-portraits. I feel so honored to have spent time with him and Ethel at their home in Pomona in the early 2000s, eating Japanese food on 9W, getting tours of the art studios, and also to have had the opportunity to visit them in Sauve in 2015. I will always remember Paul as kind, gentle, open, funny, playful and a magical being. His energy was infectious and he always made me want to slow down and smell the roses. His imagination was limitless and unparalleled. He was a joy to be around! I really miss him on this earthily plane but I imagine he is having a grand old time wherever he is. Love you always dear Paul ❤️🌟❤️🐒🦋🌈
En 2015 , j’ai vu paul pour la première fois , il m’a observé quelques temps avant de me parler directement, ses mots toujours choisis avec finesse et humour , il est né entre nous une complicité, je lui donnait du chocolat où du jus de pomme en cachette d’Ethel .Moi qui suis très tactile , et paul très réservé (à part avec Ethel), j’ai mis du temps avant de tendre mon petit doigt pour lui dire aurevoir .
Paul a fait un croquis de jesse et moi , et je suis certain que c’est l’œuvre de Paul que je préfère, petit bout de papier déchiré, trois coup de crayon posé, et vite le resultat est là…
Un vrai artiste simple élégant et talentueux.
Paul je te serre ton petit doigt avec le mien , ce geste t’appartient
Merci Alain. C’est très beau. Je vais mettre le dessin de Paul
Thank you Alain, your words are sweet and loving and I appreciate them. You touch my heart. Bisous, e.
“Secret Caretaker”
PAPA PAUL WAS THE COOLEST!!
As a kid, he towered over me but not in an intimating way, more like a gentle giant. He sat with me while I doodled and showed me how to draw a horizon, bubble letters in graffiti style, and even blindly contour, among other things. His patience and ability to never raise his voice once (at least not in my memory) even when my sister and I were carelessly running around his house were astounding. These were qualities I was able to notice and respect from a very young age which I now try to carry on throughout adulthood. Other Paul Hultberg trademarks that I will never forget are: his eggnog cup that always made any drink you put in it more delicious, his signature wave-off as we pulled out of the driveway to go back to Brooklyn, the horseshoe posts in the woods, his various flyswatters (and fly-swatting techniques of course) and his canes that always seemed very magical and Harry Potter-like to me. Papa Paul was respected by everyone and everything- even the rocks, birds, and trees it seemed- and this was another thing I admired about him. He spoke only when he had something to say- even if that was a silly pun or wisecrack he knew would make you laugh. He showed genuine interest in listening to other people and would ask questions he really wanted to know the answers to. When I grew up, his larger than life presence still towered over me even though we were the same height by this time (thank you for the genes Papa).
We miss and love you every day.
Gabe Hultberg ❤️
I love this! Nobody swatted flies with such precision!
Sooo true!
Such great memories, Gabe. I’m so grateful for being reminded of them again. You really capture him well.
I hope you know, Gabe, that your grandfather adored you.
His pleasure in being with you and Sam as you grew up was enormous.
He loved your curiosity, your intelligence, and sweetness.
I think Your loving nature and thoughtful kindness is very much like Paul’s.
See you soon, I hope, Hugs and kisses, e.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPA PAUL! WE LOVE AND MISS YOU 💔
Love this too.
I’ve been very moved and deeply touched by the statements of my children and the comments of friends.
Paul and I were together 70 years…almost all of my adult life. At 18, for me, it was love at first sight and
that love only grew over the years. Sharing life with Paul was the best thing that ever happened to me,
His kindness and gentle ways could usually smooth over the bumpy patches when we stumbled into them.
His generosity and love guided our life, and I was a better person when I was with him. He was always
his honest self, offering whatever he could give, in such a gracious way, it was easy to accept.
Paul had that exquisite capacity to see the best in everyone and he knew how to encourage those good qualities.
This made him a loving sensitive father, a superb teacher, and a marvelous husband and friend. His humor,
intelligence, and imagination ilt up our lives, while his calm peacefulness provided a quiet space in which to rest.
He was a true Californian, a westerner who lived most of his life in New York and was very much a part of the
emerging modern art world of the 1950’s. By the 1960/s and 70’s our home had become a refuge for the outcasts
of the cultural wars of the civil rights movement, the Vietnam war, and a communal gathering place for an active
New York avant- guarde. The Pomona house, which Paul built with the help of friends, provided a rich cultural
environment for our children. … and little by little he added on to it so more people could share it. Meanwhile we
could escape up the spiral staircase he designed to our private hideout. Because ultimately, Paul was a private person.
He needed to be alone and found that sanctuary in the studio he built and the surrounding woods where he walked every day.
I know it’s crazy to say this, but I believe his wit and humor was genetic. His brothers and sister shared it completely
and our children and theirs, inherited it. Even the grandkids have got the ‘Hultberg humor’. Long may it wave!, puns and all.
I treasure it…. as I treasured and loved Paul.
J’ai toujours vu dans les yeux de Paul, l’amour d’Ethel, et même si je te prenais dans les bras où t’embrasser devant lui il était heureux de te voir heureuse
When I first met Paul, he was shy about my kissing him in front of my parents,
who were not at all affectionate with each other. It took a long time before he
could be comfortable in that way, but he aways liked it when people showed
affection to his children.
I’m so grateful to have learned about this site and to learn more about Paul. This is extraordinary, the story, the memories, the artwork, the voice of Paul–thank you, blessings, for sharing this example of a life lived in art.
Thank you, Peter.
what a sweet man he always had something stunning and significant to converse about…. loved being in his presence …. an awesome individual full of kindness and love
Oh Gabe I’m so glad you have these good memories of Paul, and that you’ve recognized his special qualities.
You’re right about him never raising his voice…he loved having you kids around, and raising his voice was never his way.
And he WAS a Zen master of fly swatting.
I’ve inherited the canes, and now use one that he bought 45 years
ago at a craft fair in Kentucky just because the wood was beautiful.
Let’s hope we can all see each other again very soon. I really miss you.
Kisses, my sweet, e.
Such a special guy ❤️ Love you so much.
Hugs and Kisses,
Gabe
Jesse and I became good friends within our first week of Pomona Junior High School in 1972, and we remained friends for the next two or three years until he left Pomona for a school somewhere else (New Jersey?). It was during those three years and many visits to the marvelous Hultberg house that I got to know Paul. One could tell right away that the house where Paul, Ethel, Peter, and Jesse lived (Lawrence and, I think, Cassie too lived away from home) was haunted by creative spirits—a narrow spiral staircase in the middle of the living room (?), large enamel panels such as I had never seen before—and Paul’s fantastic studio. Paul was always kind to me, and I loved talking to him. I remember standing beside him as he explained his lumenflinger to me. At the time, I do not think I really understood what polarized light was or why when it passed through cellophane—cigar wrappers of course!—it produced colors, changing as they rotated between the polarizing filters. It was fascinating, though, and I was utterly charmed. Later, I recall, there was an exhibit of light art at the Intermedia Foundation—a celebration of the Clavilux, the light-organ invented by Rockland County’s own Thomas Wilfred—Paul’s luminflinger draped the walls with its shifting colors together with light from a huge prism in the bell tower. I think that must have been the last time I saw Paul—and so it is that Paul of 45 years ago through eyes of a fifteen-year-old—smoking his cigar beneath his mustache, looking with those eyes that seemed to see so much—that still lives inside me and still inspires me. It is amazing how much of his colorful self he could give someone like me, just some kid, Jesse’s friend, even after such a short exposure.
Thank you Mchael. It’s a wonderful memory that you shared.
Happy Birthday Dad!! Missing you and wishing you were still with us, AND taking great comfort in feeling your continued presence in my heart and mind. Love you Pop!
Wow! What a beautiful tribute.. I ‘Maier he’s feeling the love✨
Wow! What a beautiful tribute…
Thank you! …a labor of love.
Bravo Lawrence !!
I had written this to Pop back in 2016…
This is an obituary for Paul written by curator/writer Alan Rosenberg…
Building this memorial page had me inundated with family photos, way more than could possibly be included. Each image carries its own story. If I’m not mistaken, this photo was taken during the one-year transition time we spent at a rental home on Blanchard Rd, Stony Point, NY in 1960. We were moving from The Land, aka the Gate Hill Cooperative, and the Blanchard property was our pitstop before the folks purchased their orchard home in Pomona, NY which remained the family compound for 50 years. The Blanchard house had a small pond, and as usual, our home was inundated with all sorts of artisan friends, especially on the weekends. I remember John Chamberlain being a regular, as I was fascinated by all the tattoos he had, including winged pigs on his feet, and his friend Neal, who was equally tatted. It was party time much of the time!
In this photo, Ethel has her head resting on Paul’s lap, who is in conversation with Beat Poet and author, Joel Oppenheimer, who used to babysit for me when the folks needed to go out of town. On the right are two Mexican ceramicists, Hugo Valasquez and Carlos Pina. Ethel later introduced Carlos to her friend Barbara, and they eventually moved in together and had a son, Diego. Our families were very close. Their home was my home-away-from-home. Barbara’s previous son Danny and I were best friends. We took our first guitar lessons together. Those of us who are still around remain good friends, including Barbara and her daughter Deena, a true testament to how important life-long friendships are.
This photo moment was brought to you by Lawrence.
Yon yonson still goes through my mind and I still hear it from my tiny years. I didn’t place from where until now. I was too young to really know paul as I’d like to have but I see where his influence resonates with me as an artist throughout my life. Sending all lots of love for this memorial and his memory lives on through these pages.
Thanks for your kind words.
Paul’s father sang that song to him when he was a kid,
and I think he’d be tickled that Yon yonson lives on!
Bienvenu Sauvains, Sauvaines et Francophones !
This Sonnet was put to music and I learned it when studying Shakespeare in England in 1971… I was the last song I sang to my father – as I sang it his whispered the words along with me..for he knew every it by heart..
Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Cass, I love what you’ve written about you father , mom
Britta Stensland sends her love to all. She will visit the page at a later date
I’m ever grateful, amazed, moved, and lucky as can be for the Hultbergs. I first met Paul and Ethel at the age of 15, when Jesse, who was 13 at the time, invited me to his house. I entered what became a reliable place of unusual comfort, an oasis of trust and freedom, where my sister Kitty, who was also 13, and I, were treated like intelligent and interesting people. We were not fawned over. Mostly we were left to our own devices to enjoy ourselves and get to know each other. Paul and Ethel created an atmosphere where I spent many days, hour after hour, with Jesse, and fell in love with him. I’ve now loved him for 47 years. Over the years, I became good friends with Peter, too and, more recently, forged a bond with Cassie during two visits to Sauve. In Sauve, I spent many days with Paul and Ethel, enjoying their hospitality and the opportunity to give back, just a little bit, to them.
As always, Paul was charming, sweet, funny, punny, and a delight to be with. He had few words to say–even fewer than was typical for him–but the ones he spoke were golden. I watched him draw and marveled at his ability to capture the essence of a character in a few bold strokes of a pen. I witnessed the absolutely incredible devotion that Ethel gave to him, day after day, seeing, as ever, the man she fell in love with when she was a teenager. Ethel told me that when she started to make art herself, Paul helped her and supported her, critiqued her work and cheered her on. Ethel’s innate creativity flourished and is a testament to the beautiful partnership she shared with Paul–a complex, multi-faceted, union that they sustained through thick and thin, over many decades. All of us who were lucky enough to spend time with them witnessed the unique qualities of heart and mind that they both shared so generously. I’m eager to return to Sauve, and hold all the Hultbergs in my heart till then. Cheers!
Thank you Nancy. Just read your message outloud to Ethel while we have dinner. Beautiful. Much love to you and your family.
Thank you Nancy… Beautiful expressions of love for our family! Lawrence
I await your return, Nancy, my dear
Paul and I loved sitting in the kitchen in Pomona listening to you and Jesse giggling in the bedroom.
Happy Birthday, Dad! I wish you were on the planet today… I miss you and think of you every day and marvel at all the flooding memories I have of you, and so many of us have of you today- Cassie
This is a test to see if I can add an image of a message Ethel left on Facebook…
I can see it
Wonderful all of the photos and family remembrances. Thank you for this delicious tribute!
Thank you Mark! That says a lot from such a seasoned documenter and curator of images from our shared life experiences.
Thank you Hultbergs one and all for sharing this incredible memorial of Paul. I am truly moved to tears by everyones words, photos, videos. I love the interactive format and I feel I am with you all in spirit. I have learned much about Paul that I did not know. Having lost my own dad 8 months ago and not being able to celebrate and grieve communally, you have inspired me to do something similar. Love to you all, you are all blessed to have had such a wonderful, loving, sensitive father and husband. Xoxo
Thank you Michelle!
Building this page has been a cathartic experience for me, and my hope is that it will also be so for my Mom and siblings. It’s been a difficult year of transition without the patriarch of our family, and without a more formalized process for, well, processing our world without him.
Your father was such a bright light, so kind and considerate. He always seemed to be so joyous of life, and so loving. As we are all aging, it becomes more and more apparent how important life long friends are, like your family and ours.
Much love, Lawrence
I’m reading the messages tonight and really feeling that this page is helping me move forward. I really hope you do it for Dave too. Love to you and all the Solomons
Hey Mark. Great to see you here
There you are, my beauty, watching, listening, with youir lively imagination.
I’m so glad Barbara,,Paul and I talked Mike Shapiro into sharing the babysitting for all
11 of you with Dottie while we trucked off to New Mexico to deliver John Chamberlain’s
furniture to his new abode in Embudo (Taos). Your mom and Mike hit it off right away and
the rest was history…at least for quite awhile. And you grew more lovely by the year, and
became a a mom of your own beautiful daughter. I’m so happy I’ve lived long enuf to see it.
And I’ll stick around long enuf to see you return to Sauve when this virus finally disappates.
Kisses and hugs until you get back.
There you are, Britta my beauty, with Paul in a photo I love , watching, listening, with youir lively imagination.
I’m so glad Barbara,,Paul and I talked Mike Shapiro into sharing the babysitting for all
11 of you with Dottie while we trucked off to New Mexico to deliver John Chamberlain’s
furniture to his new abode in Embudo (Taos). Your mom and Mike hit it off right away and
the rest was history…at least for quite awhile. And you grew more lovely by the year, and
became a a mom of your own beautiful daughter. I’m so happy I’ve lived long enuf to see it.
And I’ll stick around long enuf to see you return to Sauve when this virus finally disappates.
Kisses and hugs until you get back.
Seems to be working 🙂
WElcoome to the memorial for Paul. WE’ll be delighted if you feel like commenting.
It was in the mid-sixties when a naive girl from Haverstraw first met Paul and Ethel Hultberg. From there on in, my life changed for the better in so many ways! Paul and Ethel exposed me to a world so new and fascinating that we became friends for many, many years thereafter. Paul was always gracious, non-combative, accepting, and gave an unconditonal love I never knew before. I so admired Paul and Ethel for their loving and caring relationship throughout all these many years. Thank you, Paul, for enriching my life and the life of my husband Dave. We will remember you with great fondness and admiration for the rest of our lives! With love, Jeanette and David Colvin
Hi Jeanette,
So wonderful to see this post. I miss you and Dave and hope all is well. Thank you for these loving remarks about Paul, who always enjoyed you.
You and Haverstraw changed us as much as we influenced you. My memories of Boillys, your parents, Jay, and all the characters we hung out
with are fresh in my mind and held deep in my heart. When this period of pandemic is over, I would love to see you again. You’d love Sauve, our
little French medieval village , and we have guest quarters for you and Dave. Please keep in touch. Kisses and hugs, e.
Hello from Jesse
Hello
Hello
Hello
Welcome to our family’s virtual memorial celebration page for Paul Hammer-Hultberg. We encourage comments from family and friends, students and coworkers, fellow artisans and poets, and even those who may not have known Paul, but perhaps admired his work. Your comments will go live in real time as you post them.
NEWLY extended hours! 10 AM-2 PM PST (California) • 12 NOON-4 PM CST (Oklahoma)
NEWLY extended hours! 1PM-5PM EST (New York) • 7-11 PM CET (France)
PLEASE NOTE THAT THE COMMENT SECTION IS OPEN 24/7 and will remain open FOR ONE WEEK!
We appreciate any images, photos or short videos you’d like to also post here, but because of security restraints, you’ll have to email me the files at: admin@hultberg.com, so that I can place them for you with the relevant comment you already made. I’ll be doing this live as I monitor the site during the three selected times we’ve chosen for us to gather en masse, so that those present can interact to what is posted. I will also be monitoring the site throughout the rest of week and will post whatever files are sent to me as quickly as possible.
Thank you so much for all the kind words expressed on Facebook to the posts family members made when Paul passed away. We’d be delighted to also have you write your sentiments here, so we could have a more permanent record of them.
We would like to take a moment to acknowledge filmmaker/photographer and prolific children’s book author George Ancona, who made the marvelous film, REFLECTIONS: the imagery of Paul Hultberg enamelist, and who took some fabulous portraits of our family. George passed away on New Years Day, 2021. Our hearts go out to the Ancona family.
Thank you to Victor at FoxyWebSolutions for all his assistance in helping to build this site, and for patiently answering seemingly endless questions when trying to build web pages like this one.
Thank you to Rachael Wolf at Wolfworks Studios for putting together the lovely video with Jesse’s music and Paul’s paintings, and for all the great graphic material of our family she’s produced over the years.
Thank you to everyone for being here!