Besides loving to draw, it makes me happy to help other people learn to draw. A friend named Anne Brown has been asking me for many years to give a workshop up here, and since she offered to host it and for whatever reason I now have some time, (OH, because I’m not preparing for a solo show since I still have paintings from the last solo show, phooey but yea), we scheduled this drawing workshop.
In 1990, I drew the Exeter Woman’s Club. (Yes, that is the correct name—I just work here.) It was part of a set of notecards called Tulare County Landmarks. No one can find the original drawing. All I have is this scan of a notecard with a hole punched in the corner.
The club asked to use the drawing, and had an old scan or some other format, not really up to my standards. But I didn’t mind and gave my permission. (It is rare that people know the copyright law which is that the artist holds the copyright, so I was impressed and thankful that they asked.)
They are celebrating a big anniversary (100 years?) and plan to publish a cookbook. The president of the club and I are longtime friends, and we began discussing the cover of the cookbook. I couldn’t stand the idea of a shoddy reproduction of my old drawing (not that it was great 35 years ago), so my friend went spelunking, unsuccessfully, in all sorts of places trying to locate the drawing.
Because I hit a slow time (feast or famine in the art business), I asked her to send me a photograph so that I could draw it again. She complied, and I dove in immediately on a rainy day.
Before finishing, I scanned it without a background, since that is how I drew it 30 years ago.
Then I drew in a dramatic background and scanned it again.
My friend asked me to make a couple of adjustments, which were easy to do. Here it is in its final form. After growing the new shrubs into a hedge with my pencils, I photoshopped the palm trees because of a strange request to shorten them by 1/4”. (As I said earlier, I just work here.)
I love to draw (But don’t ask me for a freebie, okay?)
P.S. My friend did NOT ask for a freebie—I offered. She did ask for some modifications, and I happily complied.
I spent a morning inside that open door, working on the unusual commissioned oil painting.
Let’s do a series of progressive painting photos (the first two appeared on February 27).
The studio sat empty beneath the flowering pear tree.
Pippin waited for me patiently, until he found something more interesting to investigate.
The first half of March was beautiful. Truly beautiful.
Then, it rained and it snowed kind of low (but not at my elevation). So, blossoms fell off trees and flowers got battered. But, it is still green.
Because it is raining while I write this, I am thinking about water. A few years ago, we had a very wet winter after several dry ones, and I became obsessed with watching flowing water.
Here are some of the results. I was quite pleased with the drawings and pretty proud of the titles too. (There were more, but they sold.)
All the unframed pieces are 9×12”.
I’ve had these too long, and this is a slow month. So, for the rest of the month of March, THESE ARE NOW ALL HALF-PRICE! (half of what is written beneath each one here on the blog) See? Reckless.
(Oh hush up, snobby Art World who says art should never be discounted! I’m in Tulare County, and I’m the boss of my art.)
They aren’t on my website, so you’ll have to talk to me in person, text me at five-five-nine-561-7606, or email me at cabinart-at-cabinart-dot-net (both written this way so the cyberjerks don’t mess with me.)
Yes, there will be sales tax.
If they don’t sell, I might just shred them. Ooh, feeling really really reckless!
“Reckless” is a weird word. If one is feeling reckless, one might not remain wreckless.
It is important that we are kind and complimentary to one another in drawing lessons. It is equally important that we are honest.
AH is my friend and also one of my drawing students. Since she owns dogs, she saw something a little wrong in my drawing on the dog with the black head. I own cats (or perhaps they own me, because they are certainly manipulative and bossy), and haven’t had a dog as an adult.
Her suggestion was accurate and helpful.
I made the correction and finished the drawing. (I bet you can’t even tell what was wrong!)
And now we return to my bosses.
While I was waiting to hear if JM approved the house, I began one of the dogs. Just like on the itty-bitty-face drawing, I am leaving a gap between the different subjects to fill in later.
(This picture is overexposed on the left side of the house because my giant magnifying light is washing it out.)
No emailed instructions arrived, but I had time to keep working on the drawing, so I kept going.
Finally, this was as far as I felt comfortable going without further input from JM.
The dogs’ names were Timber and Tahoe, they were part wolf, and that’s all I know about them.
What a treat to be able to draw this, to pay off my old debt, to reconnect with my old friend, and to just use pencils, my favorite medium.
Many years ago, there was a fabulous little place in Lemon Cove called Foothill Fruit. The owner was a terrific baker and sandwich maker, and some mornings I woke up just ravenous for one of her scones and French Roast coffee. I worked there for a few brief months (it used to be necesary to get a second job during my slower winter months in order to pay my taxes—thank you, Sacramento). When I was no longer working there, we were on trade: Trail Guy (his name was Road Guy back then) and I ate, and I would eventually do a complicated collage drawing of her dogs and her home.
I used my film camera to take some photos, and then I did a few sketches. The owner, whom we will call JM, couldn’t make up her mind as to how she wanted her dogs and home depicted. Then, she moved far away.
This debt in the form of an undrawn picture bothered me quite a lot. She and I weren’t close friends, but we were on good terms and enjoyed each other’s company. I couldn’t figure out how to reach her (this was pre-internet), so I filed the notes and photos under “Incomplete Jobs” or some such thing.
At an oil painting workshop in January of this year, one of the participants asked me if I knew JM. Well, saw off my legs and call me Shorty! The participant put me in touch with JM, I dug out the photos, we started emailing, and she approved this sketch.
If I hadn’t just completed that commissioned pencil drawing with all those little bitty faces, this would have been very daunting. However, I was feeling ultra capable and competent at my craft. Cocky, perhaps? Nope, just confident. (Confidence is a smile; arrogance is a sneer.)
I emailed this to JM to ask if there was anything that needed to be corrected. Stay tuned. . .
This painting seemed too bright. After studying it awhile, I decided to only tone down the brilliant green in the distance to push it farther away. (“Push it” visually, not warp the canvas.)
This is after:
Hmmm, that’s a pretty subtle difference, perhaps even dubious*. Might want to try that again later. In addition, the photography colors are significantly different.
Never mind. Let’s move ahead, shall we?
This painting looks scary in its beginning stages unless you happen to see it while galloping by on the back of a fast horse (or see it the size of a postage stamp on your phone).
After these fairly dissatisfactory adventures in oil painting, I returned to my pencils. This one has a story, which I’ll tell you when I know the ending. This is the sketch I sent to the customer to see if it matched her design expectations:
To be continued. . .
These paintings only show on my blog because I can’t remember how to get more than a handful of paintings to appear on the store part of my website. You may call or email or text if you’d like to buy any of these. Use the contact button on my website, because if I type the info in here, the cyberjerks might harass me.
Painting these is almost just as much fun as drawing with pencil, especially when I get to the third pass over the painting, where I get to draw with my paintbrush.
P.S. There is sales tax if you live in California. Figure in $8, and I’ll pay the postage.