Fall is supposed to be a relief from the heat. Last week we hit the 90s, AGAIN. Although my mind has the facts of seasonal changes, doubt holds me hostage.
So, I was seeking signs of fall, anything for encouragement that summer wouldn’t last forever.
Pumpkin spice something, anyone?
I am referring to finishing a large (12×24″) oil painting that I started in August, and then left to gather dust and spider webs while I worked on smaller paintings. Smaller paintings provide something closer to instant gratification; larger paintings build character.
These photos were taken in August.
These were taken in October, a progression of adding paint. You might notice that Vandever (the peak on the right) grew in height. If you are particularly observant, you may notice some angle changes too.
The painting was wet and shiny, so the final photo is not telling the true story. (. . . pants on fire)
I rotated the easel every direction, wasting film like crazy.
NO, I WASN’T WASTING FILM! I have a digital camera. But you probably knew that, because I am so modern, so quick to adopt new technology.
I can hear you thinking sarcastically, “Sure you are.”
This is Farewell Gap at dusk, in Mineral King. (I bet you guessed that already). Perhaps the title will be “Farewell Gap at Dusk”, because I am just clever that way sometimes.
These new oil paintings may look familiar to you from seeing them in progress.
Inventory was low; with the Holiday Bazaar in the near future (November 18 at the Three Rivers Veterans Memorial Building) and seeking a new vendor, it was time to start producing.
P.S. They all look better in person, but I think you might know that by now.
2. . . . the murals at the giant Catholic church in Visalia? After 13 months of much wrangling, negotiating, emails, phone calls, designs, rewriting of proposals, and rebidding, I withdrew my proposals. They’ll have to find someone else for this. (I’d show you my designs, but I don’t want anyone to kipe them.)
3. . . . the mural for a county library, mentioned back in August of 2022? Nothing. It was promised to me, then silence. A call to artists went out, I submitted my designs (because it expanded from one wall to two walls), then silence. The deadline for a decision passed (May 31), and the silence continues.
4. . . .my overgrown unmowed lawn? After the 5th summer of not mowing, hand trimming, transplanting, and fertilizing, it is looking quite nice. Now that it is mowed, I can see the gaps, and next year I will continue to transplant clumps as I find them at the back of the house where there used to be lawn.
5. . . . my gardening efforts once I started using an expensive humus, Deer Out, and milorganite fertilizer? Things look moderately better, although not magnificent. (Let’s remain in Realville, people!) This is the herb garden, fenced against deer, many plants with underground baskets against gophers, very poor soil, direct hot sun in summer, and zero sun in winter.
Any questions?
Yesterday I showed you some oil paintings of Sequoia, the non-Mineral King part of the park. Today here are some pencil drawings (I LOVE to draw—did you know that??)
These don’t have sizes and prices. Some are sold, some might be framed, and most are probably just in a flat file in my studio. (If you want to buy any, email me at cabinart AT cabinart DOT NET—written this way so robots won’t bother me any more than they already are—and I will see if I can find the original for you.)
One or two might be available as a reproduction print. (Since I am old now, according to The Beatles, I can’t remember.)
Gollll-eeee, I do love me some pencil. And sometimes I just cannot fathom that Sequoia National Park is visible from my house!
Yesterday I mentioned several things that I have painted from Sequoia National Park. Want to see? Some have sold, and some are currently available. (Every once in awhile, I show items for sale because I am supposed to be running an art business here, not just chit-chatting to my friends.)
“. . .Will you still need me, Will you still read me, When I’m sixty-four?”
Because I am now.
Neither Trail Guy nor I had been to the main part of Sequoia National Park since before the fires (2020, 2021) and flood (2022-2023).
I love to climb Moro Rock, so that is how I chose to spend my birthday. The burned parts of the Park looked terrible, but the road is great and the unburned parts are beautiful too.
Enough yammering. Here are some photos.
Crescent Meadow was our next destination.
The road there passes the Parker Group, which is a great source of sequoias to paint, along with Tunnel Log, which I’ve also painted several times.
The day was an experience in nostalgia. Trail Guy used to be Road Guy, with 37 years of working for Sequoia. Things now look different, because things are done differently than when he retired 11 years ago. Some are an improvement, and some in the category of Are You Kidding??
It was also a day of comparison. Seemed like Moro Rock’s steps were a bit steeper than remembered, and the handrail seemed a bit lower. The Generals Highway was infinitely better than the Mineral King road. The trails were mostly paved and certainly much flatter than in Mineral King. We talked to someone from Germany, someone from Ecuador, and heard many languages that we could not identify. There were lots of people, particularly for a midweek day, AFTER Labor Day.
What a great way to spend a birthday! And, although I wasn’t driving Fernando, it was a business trip because I got a few more photos for painting from.
In conclusion, “Will you still need me, will you still read me, when I’m sixty-four?”
Because I am now. (But not losing my hair—growing it, actually, to save in case I do lose it!)
“On the Easels” isn’t exactly accurate; it is a euphemism for “paintings in progress”. It has been awhile since you have seen what oil paintings I am working on. With the annual Holiday Bazaar coming up on November 18 (sounds far away but is actually now closer to us than summer was), I have to be ready to fill my booth with little items that folks like to buy for Christmas gifts.
Yes, there will be 2024 calendars.
These current paintings are all about Three Rivers, because what doesn’t sell at the bazaar will go to the gift shop at St. Anthony’s Retreat Center. This is a new location for my paintings. With the Silver City Store closed over the summer, it is prudent to find new outlets.
People often think that an artist must be “inspired” to create work. Maybe. But must a baker be “inspired” in order to keep the display cases full? Must a farmer be “inspired” to keep the trees irrigated, fertilized, and pruned?
Inspiration comes from many sources. Sometimes mine comes from a particular quality of light, sometimes from not knowing what else I could do to earn a living, and sometimes it comes from the fact that Fernando has 248,000 miles and won’t last forever. An artist I greatly admired used to say that his inspiration came from the bills in his P.O Box.
My drawing students get to hear me say this regularly: “You can be fast or you can be good; I get to be both.”
Now I am working on a drawing that is very very important to me, and I am choosing to be good, but S L O W.
What’s with all the pressure? This is a house I met once and immediately admired, belonging to my closest friend in the world at the time.
I began this commission pencil drawing in September.
I got this far and decided that it needs to fill the paper more, because I don’t want to just fill the bottom inch with gravel. So, I have erased the lower parts and will stretch the slate and brick walkway farther down the paper.
The shrubs are being placed willy-nilly as I see fit, because I am working from about 5 different photos, all taken at different times of the landscape development. As long as there are lavender shrubs with color at the end, my dear friend will be happy.
This is the absolute best I know how to do.
It is normal for us to close our cabin in mid-October. We closed a little earlier this year due to impending road construction.
There was a weird phenomena along the road: white stuff that looked like thick spider web material was stuck in grasses and shrubs almost all the way to Conifer, the upper gate. It felt sticky to Trail Guy; it felt like unnatural fiber such as acrylic or nylon to me, the way it stuck to my hangnails. My camera stopped working on the close-up setting, so it is a little hard to see what this stuff looked like.
There were definite signs of fall, finally.
We walked up to Crystal Creek, and the normally Yellow Tunnel was still green.
We walked down the road to Cold Springs Campground.
A little bit of work has been done on the Nature Trail, which was blocked by fallen trees and snow patches earlier in the summer. The water is still flowing strong, the aspens are still green, and there is some fall color showing in a few leaves.
We saw some interesting things.
The berries were abundant this year.
Closing has lots of tasks, not all of which I photographed, because why would you want to see all that?? But here is one, peculiar to our cabin. Not every cabin requires a climb onto the roof.
Closing is bittersweet. It is hard to say goodbye to one’s second home, even if it is a seasonal farewell. There is also the relief of knowing everything is securely buttoned up, putting away one’s duffel-bags, being home, catching up on yardwork, spending time with the cats, going to church again, staying current with emails and various internet activities, getting work done. (Knitting is portable, so I didn’t list this.)
Trail Guy is nostalgic; I just knit, unravel, reknit, and enjoy the final moments.
The drive down took awhile because we stopped several times to share information about sites and road construction, to discuss the locks on the gates, to wish friends a good winter, and to just take in the sights.
The water is still flowing along the road, and scarlet monkeyflowers were abundant this year. We also saw Farewell-to-Spring, yes, in October!
Farewell, Farewell.
