The Boring, Cross-My-Heart Bio


State Science Fair By middle school she would come home to find an owl carcass boiling on the stove to be cleaned and assembled for a science fair project. That was after the goat and duck skeletons.
I loved animals and loved fantasy works like Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows and Lewis Carroll’s Alice books. I imagined entire worlds for my creatures we as humans couldn’t see.

In the real world, I had a menagerie out back; sliders and box turtles, various snakes and lizards, frogs and toads, chickens and rabbits and even a caiman, with all the cages and enclosures I could cobble together from wire and wood scavenged from the neighborhood.
From seventh to twelfth grade I placed at the state level science fairs and planned on being a scientific illustrator, when I wasn’t cartooning of course.





In the art world, drawing had become passé, so to be an illustrator, someone who actually drew, I had to complete the two-year advertising design program to finish in Applied Art. I finally graduated magna cum laude and Phi Kappa Phi National Honor Society from USL in 1977. Since I had been fortunate enough to be employed running a weekly newspaper, The Acadiana Journal, as managing editor, staff artist and writer, and then as art director for Media Associates Advertising Agency while I was in school, it made sense to finish what had paid my way.

by Mary Alice Fontenot and Eric Vincent I did my first Clovis book, Clovis Crawfish and Etienne Escargot, while working at Media Associates. It was a series by Mary Alice Fontenot that had been around since I was in grade school.
Then, after doing loads of logos, annual reports, print advertising and writing, and directing lots of radio and television, I moved to Houston, Texas from my hometown of Lafayette, Louisiana after getting married.












Funding was difficult to find, so after creating a 90-minute award-winning movie for the Patriots Point Naval Museum and a number of corporate videos, I pulled in my horns and settled into audio book production for ACX/Amazon Audible Recorded Books.

I’m here in Charleston with my very talented wife, Dianne, who paints in oils and has her own art school and art therapy practice. I’ve taught art with her for over 15 years. You can visit our school at www.artconnects.us.


A Not-So-Boring, But Not Quite-So-Cross-My Heart Bio
Eric’s childhood was typical of any boy growing up as a midwestern squid rancher, where hard work, self-reliance, and ambition were virtues learned from life on the trail.
Uncle Bob with Mont Blanc's trial version of the Tidy Boy Ink Extractor. Drawn by Eric's childhood pal, Fred Remington.
The winter he was eight, he lost his family to the high seas of a brutal Oklahoma tsunami and a terrible stampede that cost the ranch most of its squid and “durn near all” its cuttlefish. He and his Uncle Bob refused to be beaten by this disaster and set to work rebuilding the family fortune. It was during this bleak winter ink harvest his love affair with drawing began. Collectors now vie eagerly for these early sketches of the Double X corrals where cephalopods waited to be milked of the “black gold” that would be shipped off to the great office suppliers and stationers back east.
Soon he was painting from horseback and such bucolic scenes as Calamari Roundup, Japanese Joe Brands Old Mike, and End of the Sushi Trail began finding their way to the parlors of the rich and powerful.

The winter he was eight, he lost his family to the high seas of a brutal Oklahoma tsunami and a terrible stampede that cost the ranch most of its squid and “durn near all” its cuttlefish. He and his Uncle Bob refused to be beaten by this disaster and set to work rebuilding the family fortune. It was during this bleak winter ink harvest his love affair with drawing began. Collectors now vie eagerly for these early sketches of the Double X corrals where cephalopods waited to be milked of the “black gold” that would be shipped off to the great office suppliers and stationers back east.
Soon he was painting from horseback and such bucolic scenes as Calamari Roundup, Japanese Joe Brands Old Mike, and End of the Sushi Trail began finding their way to the parlors of the rich and powerful.
It was Greenhorn Grappler, however, that earned him the coveted gold medal at the Chicago 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition and the applause of collectors and the general public alike.
Roundup Time at the Double X Corrals. This 1895 series of drawings of hands hard at work branding spring calves is now in the collection of the Carnegie Museum of Art.
Lavish in their praise, critics drew comparisons between the ambitious youth and the work of living legends like Charles Marion Russell’s house cat, Toots, who had won the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris with the breathtaking
Meat’s Not Meat ‘Til It’s in the Tin. .
But tragedy struck again, dashing the hopes of a young artist eager to join the august company of the world’s pantheon of masters.
Distracted by a jammed zipper while returning to camp one evening, Eric stepped between Snookums, a two-ton Architeuthis mare and one of her unweaned calves. It took gallons of pork grease and dozens of shoehorns before trailhands managed to free him from the grasp of the enraged female.

But tragedy struck again, dashing the hopes of a young artist eager to join the august company of the world’s pantheon of masters.
Distracted by a jammed zipper while returning to camp one evening, Eric stepped between Snookums, a two-ton Architeuthis mare and one of her unweaned calves. It took gallons of pork grease and dozens of shoehorns before trailhands managed to free him from the grasp of the enraged female.
Set upon by reporters as he was wheeled from the hospital months later, all Mr. Vincent would offer was, “A gripping experience.”
He was ordered by his doctors to recuperate in the salubrious humidity and hot mud baths of Charleston, South Carolina, where he shunned all publicity and gradually fell into welcomed obscurity. He eventually found work doing small ads and light illustration for a local advertising agency. Except for a traumatic incident of flashback that occurred when the appetizer arrived at an Italian restaurant, life has been quiet for the forgotten artist.
“A blessing, really,” he confided to this reporter. “Who needs all the attention?”
Reprinted by permission. C.C. Collingsworth. The Forgotten Inkslinger- Eric Vincent. Squirt- The Voice of the Western Squidman, Vol. 104, November 1903
He was ordered by his doctors to recuperate in the salubrious humidity and hot mud baths of Charleston, South Carolina, where he shunned all publicity and gradually fell into welcomed obscurity. He eventually found work doing small ads and light illustration for a local advertising agency. Except for a traumatic incident of flashback that occurred when the appetizer arrived at an Italian restaurant, life has been quiet for the forgotten artist.
“A blessing, really,” he confided to this reporter. “Who needs all the attention?”
Reprinted by permission. C.C. Collingsworth. The Forgotten Inkslinger- Eric Vincent. Squirt- The Voice of the Western Squidman, Vol. 104, November 1903