I am stalling in showing you the actual designs because I feel gun-shy. After 14 months of working with a large organization and then never getting the job, I am cautiously optimistic that this mural job will come to fruition.
So, today I will simply show you the pictures I presented to the mural selection committee of previously completed murals. Had to prove that I knew what I was talking about.
Top to bottom:
1. Mineral King in Our Backyard, E Street, Exeter, 13×110’, completed in 2009 and refreshed in 2017, as seen looking east
2. Same mural, looking west
3. Oak tree, St. Anthony’s Retreat, Three Rivers, interior mural completed 2020
4. Yokohl Creek, Mooney Grove, 4×8’, completed 2022
5. Tulare County History Museum, 4 exterior murals, completed 2020
I grew up in the country, with the choice of asking Mom to drive me or riding my bike if I wanted to go somewhere. (One did not bother Dad, because he was working; we were Mom’s work.) She rarely denied me when I asked her to take me to the library 2-4 miles away (we moved closer when I was in 6th grade), which was (and is) very small.
It was a challenge to find new books to read in that tiny building, but I never gave up trying. We either didn’t know about or didn’t have the option of ordering books from other county libraries as we do now. And I remember the first time I went to the library in the big town instead of the little burg—it was mind-boggling in its enormity. So many books, so little time!
Over a year ago, I was asked to paint an outdoor mural on the library of my youth. Within a week, I drove there with sketch paper and a tape measure. I met the librarian, who turns out to be a close friend of my sister-in-law. (Welcome to Tulare County, and never talk bad about anyone!)
Immediately, I began scouring my memory for ideas, and without knowing the budget, I came up with 3 versions—each one emphasizing different aspects of that nondescript rural unincorporated town, and different sizes for pricing options.
Alas, the Asker didn’t return my phone calls. I saw him in person, he apologized, and then still didn’t follow up. So, I let go of that dream.
Several months later, the Arts Consortium put out a Call-To-Artists, for not one, but TWO murals on the library of my youth. WHAT?? That was supposed to be MY mural.
Allll-righty-then, at least I had a headstart. I designed a second one, did the best presentation sketch possible, and even wrote an (unasked for) explanation and a (also unasked for) heartfelt statement about why I am the most qualified for this particular project. I met the deadline, and then waited to hear when I could begin. (Can you say “overconfident”?)
The deadline to notify the winner came and went. Silence. I asked the Arts Consortium who got the job, and the reply was that the selection committee was unable to meet. More months passed, and I asked again. This time the answer was that the selection committee was unable to decide.
I gave up, let go, moved on, while wondering what in the world is wrong with organizations and why I allow them to waste my time. I lost the big Catholic church murals—might as well add this to the pile of missed opportunities, and make a note to just deal with individuals in the future, rather than large outfits.
Then, 14 months after I was asked to paint a mural on the library of my youth, the Arts Consortium emailed that I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR THE JOB!!
Stay tuned to see the sketches, hear the explanations, and learn when it will begin.
Trail Guy and I like to explore the bottom of Lake Kaweah when the water is low. It’s a good place to ride bikes, ride horses, walk, or walk dogs, not pretty like the BLM land above our house, but spacious and easy to get to.
It changes each season, depending on water flow, rain, water releases, etc. The floods deposited an enormous amount of silt, sand, and rocks, all in layers. We saw this last January before the lake started filling.
In past years, the Army Corps of Engineers has cleared the roads at the lake bottom, but this year it was too difficult. Or something. There must be some reasons, but from my ignorant point of view, I see all that material as useful for repairing all the ruined roads in Tulare County. Apparently not.
We spent an hour or so walking on the sand and dried mud to see how things might be this winter for walking and biking.
The cockleburrs survive no matter what. And Slick Rock isn’t looking too slick.
Lake Kaweah wasn’t a lake until I was about 4 years old, and it has been going through transformations ever since Terminus Dam was built.
Release, pencil drawing, matted and framed to 20×28″, $495
Lake Kaweah is weirdly fascinating, not exactly pretty, but always interesting. (Maybe next time I will remember to take a bag for trash.)
Explosive sneezing and uncontrollable coughing aren’t good for public interaction, so I won’t be at the Holiday Bazaar after all.
Good news:
My friend Elizabeth the Jewelry Maker will sell my calendars at the bazaar. She has been a bazaar and boutique buddy of mine for many years and makes wonderful (and very affordable) jewelry. She will accept checks or cash for the calendars. (Be sure to look over her jewelry while you are there!)
Look at those Chinese pistache trees in the parking lot!
Merchandise that I will have available:
Small original oil paintings, Rural Tulare County coloring books (for grownups and older children), Mineral King Wildflower books (only 8 left!), The Cabins of Wilsonia books (never you mind how many are left), single cards, card packages, and 2024 Mineral King Calendars!
This year’s calendar is photographs of Mineral King from the odd and beautiful summer of 2023.
“Odd” because the damaged road limited access to only a handful of intrepid cabin folks, but not the public. (Stay safe, all y’all, but you cabin folks are on your own.)
“Beautiful” because the winter had been phenomenal, with water running in every possible drainage and going strong most of the summer, the tallest grasses in memory, abundant wildflowers, and greenery through September.
I chose to not post about Mineral King in the summer because it just seemed wrong to rub people’s noses into the fact that it was gorgeous but inaccessible.
When it was time to choose the calendar theme, I decided to share the beauty that many people missed. Good idea? Bad idea? Everything is a mixed bag.
As the back of the calendar explains, seeing Mineral King at its most beautiful reminds us all that even when we can’t get there, this beloved place endures.
The calendar is $20 (including tax), plus $3 shipping for one, $4 for two, and $7 for three (shipped in 2 separate packages). If that sounds pricey, be thankful that I am not charging for those overpriced cardboard mailers, and that I am not charging the entire mailing price. Just wanted you to know this, in case you were thinking of making do in 2024 with one of those freebie calendars that advertise a business or show you places that you will probably never see.
There are several ways to get a Mineral King 2024 calendar:
From me in person (no mailing costs that way) either just around, or at the Holiday Bazaar at the Three Rivers Memorial Building on November 18
“You are your own worst critic” is something I hear from time to time. That is actually a positive trait, because who else is going to be completely honest to help me improve my work?
Today’s post is one to help me think about how to make this painting be the best possible. This painting is a conglomeration of a stack of many photos, in an attempt to make it the most colorful that I can.
These are my thoughts as I study the painting:
The two pomegranates look good, which makes sense because I’ve painted many pomegranates.
The orange needs a bit more brightening.
The tangerine is a good idea, but doesn’t look quite right; maybe it is Sumo, maybe a mineola tangelo. (Are those even grown anymore?)
The hidden plum is a little weird with that highlight–maybe it should just go dark.
The upper left plum looks almost finished, only lacking some highlighting on the left side.
The grapes need more variety in their color, along with highlights on the left edges.
The lemon needs better color, highlights on the left, detail in the stem. (I took away the shading from a previous iteration because the light source was on the wrong side.)
The persimmon looks too red here, but that might be the way it photographed. Worth checking. It needs detail in the green thingie, called a “sepal”, and the green is wrong.
Both pears need detail; the yellow one has been shrunk and only has a base coat, and the green one lost its freckles.
The peach needs fuzz and it needs those ghost grapes to get buried.
It won’t take long to finish the apple.
The background needs the glow to be more subtle so it doesn’t look like a halo around the plum and grapes.
Good thing there is no deadline on this. It’s a great exercise in making things up and keeping them believable. It is also a great exercise in patience, in reining in my natural bent to git-‘er-dun. So much in life is better when we see it as an opportunity to learn rather than a nuisance.
Here you can see I improved the background, light on the upper plum and grapes, the tangerine, persimmon sepal, the flower ends of the pomegranates (in spite of thinking they were finished), the green apple. Of course, it is wet and shiny so doesn’t photograph well.
Perhaps I am my own best critic, rather than worst critic?
Fall in Three Rivers is often late, subtle, or hidden in smoke. Most of the trees are evergreens, whether a variety of oaks or even some conifers. Some of the deciduous trees are also oaks, and they simply have green leaves that fall off without any hooplah. That doesn’t stop me from hunting fall color. In fact, the few places of color really stand out against all the brown, green, and gray.
After a number of years living here, I know where to look for the prettiest colors. Here are a few of the autumn leaf displays that I anticipate each year.
Virginia Creeper
Flowering pear with a small glimpse of a brilliant Chinese pistache in the distance
Crape myrtle (some special unnamed variety)
Chinese pistache
Redbuds make yellowleaves. (Yes, I know, “yellow leaves”, not one word, but it goes with “redbud” as one word.)
Chinese pistache are the champions of fall color in Three Rivers.
By the time this post goes live, many of these leaves will be gone.
The Great Western Divide is the name given to the ridge of peaks seen from the top of Moro Rock in the Sierra Nevada. On this side, water drains west and on the other side, it drains east .
I haven’t painted this before, at least not from this view. The mountains show in the distance of many of my citrus/foothills/mountain scenes, but only once did I try to make them perfect. And that was tricky, because I worked from many photos, piecing the range together, and then faking the hills.
Why did I fake the hills? Because they were different in every single photo, because each photo was taken from a different place. There is no place besides an aircraft where you can see the entire width of the Sierra Nevada.
Here we go. . .
At the end of the painting session, the light was a bit too low to be accurate on both the colors and the shapes.
So, I photographed it the next morning in the bright sunlight. Looks washed out because the wet paint is reflective.
When it is dry, I will scan it, and then, as always, I will tell you it looks better in person.
The Great Western Divide, oil on wrapped canvas, 6×12″, $125.
This blog post is just a short report on a personal topic. Trail Guy and I attended a 99th birthday party for his great uncle. The invitation came over the phone, so I didn’t hear the address or the time. I knew Great Uncle lived next door to a friend’s house, which I drew a number of years ago, figuring that Trail Guy had the address in his head or written somewhere.
He asked me what time we needed to leave because I wanted to do two errands while we were down the hill. I thought that because it was a lunch party that it was at noon, so I did some calculating, built in a little buffer, and said “quarter to eleven”.
After the second errand, he said, “Now what do you want to do?” I said, “We have the right amount of time to find the house, because we don’t know which side of our friend they live on”. Indeed, more than plenty, because the party was at one! Oops.
I thought he had the address, and he thought I knew the time.
So we went to CACHE and spent some time looking at the exhibits and the art.
Drawn so long ago that the landscaping was different. (2008)
When we decided to head toward the party, I followed my memory to the house I had drawn. Alas, it had been 15 years, and the signature birch trees which were to be my landmark were nowhere to be seen. We drove around the block, and then parked near the house that I was fairly certain was the right one. (Silly me, all that assuming, and I even didn’t look at the drawing first either—simply relied on memory). A neighbor came out on one side and asked if we were lost. Turns out that we weren’t lost after all; the party house was on the other side of the house that I remembered. By then, all we had to do was watch to see where cars pulled up with people we knew.
Great Uncle’s wife of perhaps 10 years read a sweet poem she wrote, and then Great Uncle recited a poem he wrote. What a story: engaged, then broke up because he didn’t want to leave a fiancé behind when he served in WWII. They married other people, and when both were widowed, they reunited and finally got married.
This photo was completely unposed and does not do justice to this handsome couple.
After the toasts and poetry, Trail Guy and I joined up with his favorite cousin outside. Favorite Cousin’s son had driven his mom and her husband to the reunion. He and I sat on the edge of the pool with our feet in the cold water and got acquainted. He was a delight to talk with! He said something profound, that first he attributed to Banksy, and then after looking it up (EVERYONE has a phone), we decided his version was clearer and simpler.
Everyone wants to be an artist, but no one wants to learn to draw.
