Difference between revisions of "Bio:Ivor W. Hartmann"

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[[Ivor W. Hartmann]] lives, writes and plays whilst rattling the shackles of economic slavery and exile in Johannesburg, South Africa.
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Ivor W. Hartmann lives, writes and plays whilst rattling the shackles of economic slavery and exile in Johannesburg, South Africa.
  
 
Ivor was born in the 70's the youngest of three siblings in the Sunshine City of Harare, Zimbabwe. Which of course meant he was a teen in the 80's and did indeed at some point, (during holidays home from the tragedy of boarding school) wear a pastel, sleeve-rolled jacket, when seriously getting down to Duran Duran. However, when not being acutely embarrassed or embarrassing, he found some relief in the world of literature and penned his first short story at the age of fourteen.
 
Ivor was born in the 70's the youngest of three siblings in the Sunshine City of Harare, Zimbabwe. Which of course meant he was a teen in the 80's and did indeed at some point, (during holidays home from the tragedy of boarding school) wear a pastel, sleeve-rolled jacket, when seriously getting down to Duran Duran. However, when not being acutely embarrassed or embarrassing, he found some relief in the world of literature and penned his first short story at the age of fourteen.
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In the dead of one cold winter's night, Ivor was struck by the realisation that it had been over fourteen years since he had last written any prose, and surely, those years had been well lived. Well enough to reconsider what had always remained a deep urge just below the surface. Therefore, in that night, he sat down to tap out the dust, shake off the camping gear and set out once more down the newly written road to the wilds of imagination country.
 
In the dead of one cold winter's night, Ivor was struck by the realisation that it had been over fourteen years since he had last written any prose, and surely, those years had been well lived. Well enough to reconsider what had always remained a deep urge just below the surface. Therefore, in that night, he sat down to tap out the dust, shake off the camping gear and set out once more down the newly written road to the wilds of imagination country.
  
When he returned three days later he counted himself as wholly addicted to prose again, and all else seemed to pale by comparison into insignificance. With the Muses firmly camped-out and partying in his ear, he returned to writing. Beginning a journey that has led to the formation of The IWH Inquirer[http://ivorhartmann.blogspot.com/], a non-fiction article site primarily based on research for his stories. The formation of a fiction writer’s site and group called StoryTime[http://publishyourstory.blogspot.com/]. Online publication of the numerous non-fiction articles from The IWH Inquirer, at various online ezines and article sites. Print publication of a non-fiction article in Future Guide SA. Print publication of a fiction short story [[Earth Rise]][http://publishyourstory.blogspot.com/2007/06/earth-rise.html], in the sci-fi/horror magazine [[Something Wicked]][http://somethingwicked.co.za/cms/] issue7 [http://www.somethingwicked.co.za/cms/something_wicked_7/issue_7.html].
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When he returned three days later he counted himself as wholly addicted to prose again, and all else seemed to pale by comparison into insignificance. With the Muses firmly camped-out and partying in his ear, he returned to writing. Beginning a journey that has led to the formation of The IWH Inquirer[http://ivorhartmann.blogspot.com/], a non-fiction article site primarily based on research for his stories. The formation of a fiction writer’s site and group called StoryTime[http://publishyourstory.blogspot.com/]. Online publication of the numerous non-fiction articles from The IWH Inquirer, at various online ezines and article sites. Print publication of a non-fiction article in Future Guide SA. Print publication of a fiction short story Earth Rise[http://publishyourstory.blogspot.com/2007/06/earth-rise.html], in the sci-fi/horror magazine Something Wicked[http://somethingwicked.co.za/cms/] issue7 [http://www.somethingwicked.co.za/cms/something_wicked_7/issue_7.html].
  
 
Invisibly, behind the glare of a monitor residing as private zeroes and ones, Ivor has three novels on the go in a race to see which one finishes first. In the breaths between there grows a pile of short stories gradually poking their submission noses around the world.
 
Invisibly, behind the glare of a monitor residing as private zeroes and ones, Ivor has three novels on the go in a race to see which one finishes first. In the breaths between there grows a pile of short stories gradually poking their submission noses around the world.

Revision as of 14:45, 19 September 2008

Ivor W. Hartmann lives, writes and plays whilst rattling the shackles of economic slavery and exile in Johannesburg, South Africa.

Ivor was born in the 70's the youngest of three siblings in the Sunshine City of Harare, Zimbabwe. Which of course meant he was a teen in the 80's and did indeed at some point, (during holidays home from the tragedy of boarding school) wear a pastel, sleeve-rolled jacket, when seriously getting down to Duran Duran. However, when not being acutely embarrassed or embarrassing, he found some relief in the world of literature and penned his first short story at the age of fourteen.

The story was a rather gruesome, blood soaked tale about werewolves that scared the hell out of his demure English Literature teacher. So much so, that an immediate, rather gruelling, parent conference was called, to discuss the disturbing level of graphic detail. It was at that point he realised he might be on to something with this writing lark.

Four years later upon leaving high school, he was faced with a choice between becoming a fine artist or a writer. Though he showed promise in both fields (as a finalist in some national school competitions), ultimately financial restraints, youthful impetuousness, and the idea that one needed to live life before writing about it led him to fine art.

One year later Ivor presented his first artworks in a public exhibition, which were met with mildly encouraging local reviews. In the process of arranging the exhibition, he formed the beginnings of Art Now! This soon grew to become a registered artist’s collective that held ongoing monthly exhibitions and workshops. He doggedly followed this path for seven years with but met with minimal success and paying public reception to his mainly strange surrealist abstract works. In ‘98, he finally chucked in the brush and changed artistic mediums from oils on canvas to shovel in earth.

Giving away all his artworks, he leapt into Permaculture and Organic Farming with the same gusto he had reserved for fine art, and there amongst the worms he found an elusive peace. With long-term plans to start up a medicinal herbal farm in Zimbabwe's Eastern Highlands, he studied and worked organic farming for five years. This plan however, was shattered by the final descent of Zimbabwe into full-blown chaos.

With all the land in Zimbabwe under threat from random expropriation and the rapidly spiralling devaluation of Zimbabwe's dollar, it meant not one of the previously interested investors would touch his proposed farm proposals. Therefore, Ivor reluctantly joined the estimated 3.4 million economic exiles that fled the country. On a wing and a prayer with a vague promise of a friendly entry into Computer Graphics, he finally blew in to Johannesburg, South Africa.

Initially waiting tables and working on a Pentium one, Ivor quickly immersed himself in the world of postproduction studios, computer animation and special effects. One year later he formed Damn Fine Production in response to landing the special effects for a six part sci-fi mini-series. From effects to music videos, DFP thrived, going on to win a Kora for Best Music Video in 2005. The music video was Nessun Dorma by the Afrotenors and his directorial debut. It was however when dipping into writing screenplays that his first love came once more to whisper in his ear.

In the dead of one cold winter's night, Ivor was struck by the realisation that it had been over fourteen years since he had last written any prose, and surely, those years had been well lived. Well enough to reconsider what had always remained a deep urge just below the surface. Therefore, in that night, he sat down to tap out the dust, shake off the camping gear and set out once more down the newly written road to the wilds of imagination country.

When he returned three days later he counted himself as wholly addicted to prose again, and all else seemed to pale by comparison into insignificance. With the Muses firmly camped-out and partying in his ear, he returned to writing. Beginning a journey that has led to the formation of The IWH Inquirer[1], a non-fiction article site primarily based on research for his stories. The formation of a fiction writer’s site and group called StoryTime[2]. Online publication of the numerous non-fiction articles from The IWH Inquirer, at various online ezines and article sites. Print publication of a non-fiction article in Future Guide SA. Print publication of a fiction short story Earth Rise[3], in the sci-fi/horror magazine Something Wicked[4] issue7 [5].

Invisibly, behind the glare of a monitor residing as private zeroes and ones, Ivor has three novels on the go in a race to see which one finishes first. In the breaths between there grows a pile of short stories gradually poking their submission noses around the world.