Hull Hershorn, photo artist and other paintings, dies in 60

Hull Hershorn, an artist known for his presence everywhere around the cultural scene of New York City, who managed to be outside his commercial dust, using antique cameras and homemade paints to produce haunting images and landscape paintings, on February 4.

His sister, Harright Hershorn, said the reason is the coronary artery disease. He died in the apartment of a friend in Manhattan, where he went to celebrate the opening of a collective show that includes his work, “Let Teer Tere”, in the heavenly comfort church on the upper eastern side.

New York artists are often talked about in the Stone Age, as if they were all racing to be next Jeff Kons. Many. For those who are not, Mr. Hershorn served as AFATAR and Inspiration, a model for how to live a creative life apparently from critical concerns.

While other artists of his generation have rode the mutation of the art market in the past three decades, he remained isolated, and rarely put his work for sale in exhibitions. Its location on the web is distinguished by some paintings and photographs, but there is no contact information or personal details.

His work was completely represented. Mr. Hirshorn did his paints using traditional ingredients, and the Chelsea market for fleas for antique camera spare parts, and the better and more mysterious.

The landscape is equivalent to a dirty vegetable painting and autumn brown. Turner was in their near abstraction, with vocals of foggy clouds blocking the loud slopes and stormy seas.

His pictures seemed to be present. He made them by applying a solution of salt and silver to paper drawing, putting it negatively and exposing it to light to take a picture-a technique developed in England in the mid-nineteenth century, which eventually fell from preference because it requires very long exposure that made it difficult to maintain the image in focus.

But this quality was what Mr. Hershorn loved: I produced vibration in its form, and often women, either naked or involved in old homework, such as cleaning floors. To add Verisimailade, sometimes use make -up to heat the feet of its models.

In other works, he created “Memeto Mori”, using an approach in the nineteenth century for photography in which the body of the person who died in a vibrant form is arranged. (Mr. Hershorn, however, use live models.)

In 2011, he organized a “funeral” of Seabury TredWell, the wealthy Manhathanite who died in 1865, taking pictures of the procession while moving from the merchant’s home museum, where Mr. TredWell and his family lived, in the eastern village, to Grace Church, and finally in New York City marble.

“His sensitivity was the reference to drawing and photography in the nineteenth century,” said Jeffrey Berliner, the photographer and his close friend of Mr. Hershorn, in an interview. “But to do this in personal, subjective and contemporary ways.”

The character of Mr. Hershorn matches his art.

For some reason, he had the LinkedIn page; It is not surprising, it was scattered and mysterious, as he described it as “an artist in everything and nothing” – which was definitely what he was.

It seemed everywhere. His friends and lexicals called him Zilig, as they often faced it in museums and openings, but they also walk randomly on the sidewalk or through Central Park.

“If I don’t know the best, I thought he was chasing me,” painter Alex Billy said in an interview. “But this was everyone’s experience with Hull.”

It was difficult to miss, with his lever, the pale, wiped out of curls and eyes hole. Tobacco fingers were stained of smoking contracts. He usually had walking slowly and then suddenly storming in a race for a few seconds before braking.

Speak quietly, deliberately and with great joy. He was polite, even a little official. He had an encyclopedic awareness of the history of art until the latest trends, although he preferred the side channels of artists and long movements.

“There was almost something almost the Edoard of it,” said James Harny, a friend, in an interview. “But he also had fun quality.”

Harold Timothy Hershorn was born on January 12, 1965, in Philadelphia. His father, Bruce Hershorn, was an external service officer, and as a result, Hull had a childhood allocation, living in Brussels, London and Hong Kong, from other places, before ending in Washington.

His mother, Ann Soo (Friedberg) Hershorn, was a technical historian who worked at the US Information Agency. After divorcing his parents when he was nine years old, Hull lived with her in Washington. It is often cited as a major impact on his work.

Along with his sister, Mr. Hershorn survived by his brothers Barry and Dalton.

He joined the Pennington College, where he studied the history of art and architecture, but he left before graduation. He also studied in Venice through a fellowship with the Peggy Guggenheim collection.

Mr. Hershorn arrived in New York in 1989, just as the economic recession put an end to the angry contract of art and real estate around the lower Manhattan.

He was attracted to the galleries and clubs in the eastern village, where many of the eighties of the eighties declined, but he discovered that the housing that was one day had been uprooted due to improvement.

Instead, he found a small studio apartment controlled by rent off Washington Square Park, where he lived for the rest of his life, filling the space floor to the ceiling with the camera parts, books and artistic animals. She was cheap, but Spartan: He had a hot dish and shared a bathroom with another tenant.

“A lot is made about fame, influence and things, and it does not matter anything compared to your inner dialogue about the reason for your manufacture of art,” said artist Tom Sachs, who was known by Mr. Hershorn from the college, in an interview. Hull’s art was like this. He had a very personal type of internal dialogue about his art. “

Last year, Mr. Hershorn and a high school friend, Jeremy Hatchens, led to Midland, Georgia, in his last project, in the African Pearce Cemetery. During the nineteenth century, dozens of worshipers were buried on the site, which a group of black province is trying to restore.

As he did with the TredWell series, Mr. Hirshorn has organized a funeral and shot it with a salt print camera.

He had no opportunity to develop negatives before his death, but Mr. Hutchins said he hoped to end his friend’s work this year. There will also be an exhibition of Mr. Hershorn and a wide range of antique cameras this month at the Ethan Cohen, in the Chelsea section of Manhattan.