Artist, teacher, pilot. Husband, father, grandfather, friend.

Always "incurably nuts about airplanes," he first soloed after only 3 1/4 hours of instruction, and earned his license at the age of 21. A consummate pilot, and aerial photographer, his passengers were always in capable hands even as the horizon tilted towards vertical and Bob, controlling the plane with his feet and knees, pointed his camera straight down, through the open side window, capturing exquisite and perplexing images of the ground below.

For thirty years, Bob was a perceptive and inspiring professor of art at UC Berkeley. He retired in 1991, but remained close friends with many students and colleagues, and delighted in viewing latest works, discussing art or simply sharing one of his carefully crafted martinis.
Although he was trained in academic realist painting, Bob became excited by the dynamic energy of abstract expressionism, and the realization that a painting could be an ongoing event instead of a static tableau of things. However, his continuing desire to get back to flying soon led him to painting "skyscapes." In 1970 he bought a plane and his painting shifted from looking up with longing, to looking down with wonder. Bob found that photography was the best medium for him to share that sense of wonder and discovery.
He had a painter's eyes, a musician's ears and a poet's heart. All were active until the uncelebrated lungs finally failed. Left behind are beautiful images exploring the enigmatic and mysterious, and expressing the ineffable.

Bob felt he had lived an inordinately lucky life: lucky in surviving early and continuing lung problems, lucky in his escape from living and teaching in the racially segregated Texas of the 1950s, lucky in his career at UC Berkeley, and particularly lucky in wife, family, and friends.
Bob gives his friends and family a full life to celebrate, and a generous spirit to miss.

Bob's "one and only love" and wife for 61 years, Charlotte, died in 2012. He is survived by his brother, Jim, two sons, Mark and Jim, their wives, four grandchildren, and many friends. We happy few count ourselves lucky to have known Bob.

A memorial celebration will coincide with a retrospective of his work planned for late February or early March.

In lieu of flowers, go to a symphony concert, or donate to Creative Growth.

On final flight into the wild blue yonder, flight plan not filed.

To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.

Published by San Francisco Chronicle from Dec. 9 to Dec. 13, 2015.

Memories and Condolences
for Robert Hartman

9 Entries

Judith Foosaner

August 30, 2020

It's been almost five years since your final flight, Bob and I'm still thinking about so much you said as my teacher, my colleague, my friend.
Your life and your work were one, easily one of my continuing inspirations. What you gave to me, I think you gave to everyone lucky enough to enter your orbit. We knew it then. We know it now. Judith Foosaner

Kip Bryant

January 29, 2016

I was fortunate to have been one of Mr Hartman's students at CAL in the early 1970's. I still remember his encouraging presence. I spoke to him a few years ago at a discussion about my friend J. DeFeo and was able to tell him how much I appreciated having had him as an instructor. He is one of those lights who will be missed.

Bob Hartman and Susan Cooper at 3th Street restaurant February 17, 2015

Susan Cooper

January 21, 2016

susan cooper

January 21, 2016

"Mix Burnt Umber with Thalo Blue. Far richer than black." Robert Hartman 1967 and repeated to me in 2015.
--Susan Cooper

''more than a martini, a sign of hope"

jerry jezowski

January 12, 2016

Leah Korican

January 2, 2016

Bob Hartman was an amazing teacher. I studied with him in the early 80's at Berkeley. His insights, comments, and presence inspire me today in my creative work and art teaching. He made a strong impact on his students and was always focused on how to help. His words were the ones I returned to as I went out into the world. I'm so very grateful I had him as a teacher. My sincere condolences to his family.
Here's a poem I wrote about him a few years after I graduated.

Learning to Draw
for Robert Hartman

He taught me the measure of gesture.
The rudiments of vine.
Colored mud on a stick with hair
whacked against warp and woof.

He taught the hand
is reined to the eyes.
Vision mounts the heart,
and muzzles the busy mind.

Create without thought,
Amaze the tiny self
like a fly in a mason jar
buzzing and bashing
the glass and mesh,
through this small hole
art,
an escape is made.

Drew Johnson

December 17, 2015

Bob on Bass: Recorder Consort, circa 1981

Drew Johnson

December 17, 2015

Family Freed 2015

Eleanor Freed

December 17, 2015

Dear Bob,

I will carry the love you gave me into the community you so nourished and guided. I miss you, especially now with your birthday. We never cried together, nor shy did we laugh, your wit so clever, your mind so clear, you view so forward all to not weigh or tax your lung capacity. What you spared in words, what you focused in editing, you compensated in quality, depth, richness and flavor.
Thank you again, again, and again.
I sure hope you're still reading the Chronicle, from there in the ether. This message will travel in the air where you now soar and glide, and I hope it reaches your preceptors - doubtless yours the most keen of any in the afterlife.

And we'll make the show we were planning just before your departure a good one:
Dates of Robert Hartman exhibition at Worth Ryder Art Gallery
Wednesday, February 17th - Friday, March 11th, 2016
Opening Reception: Wednesday, February 17th, 2016

And to all Bob's dear friends and loved ones, please know if I haven't already mentioned to you, I am with you in spirit.
Love and Kind Warmth,
Eleanor

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