I’m not much good in town, but if the town is on a beach, I’ll cope with it just fine. These paintings were done from photos taken around Monterey, but I am simply titling them Pacific Ocean I, II, and III, with hopes for IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, and IX in the near future.
Pacific Ocean I, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax—sorry, we are in California)
Pacific Ocean II, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax)
Pacific Ocean III, 5×7″, oil on gessobord, $75 (plus tax—is there an echo around here?)
Email, call, write me a note, or tell me in the comments if you would like to buy one of these paintings. (They look better in person, as you probably already know.)
We can pretend they are in Pismo, Cayucos, or any other spot along the Pacific Ocean that floats your boat.
In 2017, I met Bill, who came to me for some illustrations for a book he was writing on the old tuberculosis hospital in Springville, which is in the southern part of Tulare County (above Porterville).
This is a topic that really interests me. I’ve been curious about that place since I first saw it on the way to Scicon* for a day trip as a 5th grader.
You may recall that helping local authors get books published is a sideline of mine**—I edit, proofread, photo-edit, format, do a little cover design (but not much because all my covers look alike), and get books to a printer. (Most are out of print because they are very short runs for limited audiences).
This was the preliminary cover design which we submitted to the printer and asked them to improve on it.
Bill hired me to draw three pictures and then to be his editor, or more accurately, his book shepherd. He loves research more than any other book task, and the scope of the book continued to expand until we realized that he was no longer writing about Springville. The subject became tuberculosis, as it was documented by writers, poets, and other well-known literary (and literate) folks through the years when it was a disease that was feared, and not understood.
TALES OF TB: WHITE PLAGUE OF THE NORTH
Seven years of research, learning, writing, rewriting, finding photos, fighting computers, working together and becoming friends have finally culminated in the book, which Bill received a few bound copies of last week.
Bill chose to have the printer, BookBaby, handle the distribution, which they will eventually do through Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Until it gets up on those giant sites, you may order directly through BookBaby by clicking on this link: Tales of TB: White Plague of the North. (You might be able to order from BookBaby after it is up on those giant sites. This is a new experience for me, because most my previous authors have sold their books themselves.)
This is the improved cover put together by BookBaby’s cover designers. (Don’t tell me if you like my version better because it is TOO LATE.)
Here is the official description:
Though all but forgotten in affluent regions, tuberculosis is an ancient pandemic that presently kills 1.5 million people yearly. It was rampant in the England of 1800 and accepted that 1% of the population succumbed each year to the wasting disease—consumption—a grim reaper that would one day be known as tuberculosis, or more dramatically, “The White Plague.” Seven well-known people of a not-so-distant past left detailed accounts of their tuberculous lives—in their various letters, essays, poems, and biographies. Their surnames are Barrett-Moulton, Keats, Bronte, Poe, Browning, Trudeau, and Stevenson. Although it was most often a disease of poverty, no one was safe from the White Plague. The stories of these talented writers, poets, and their doctors are explored here and portray the variations of the disease and the personalities of its victims. Beginning with the subject in the well-loved painting “Pinkie” by Thomas Lawrence in 1794 through Robert Louis Stevenson of Treasure Island fame, the book moves into the sanatorium era of the late 1800s and first half of the 20th century. In 1950, medical science came up with several semi-miraculous medications that amazingly cured the worst types of tuberculosis. However, the White Plague has soldiered on, and there have been unexpected happenings that play a role in maintaining mortality: (1) the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) (2) drug resistant tuberculosis (3) the Covid-19 pandemic, which has severely damaged tuberculosis control and reduced access to medication in the less privileged regions of the world. Will tuberculosis always be with us as a “forever” pandemic?
Currently I am working on two new books for 2 other authors, and still eagerly waiting for the book on the Springville TB Hospital to get written. (Yes, I am still painting, drawing, and teaching drawing lessons!)
*Clemmie Gill School of Science and Conservation, where 5th graders go for a day, 6th graders go for a week, and high school juniors and seniors can go as a counselor. Maybe. That’s the way it was in the 1970s.
There must be a few things that I learned in January. Thirty-one days of nothing seems a little out of character here. As Winnie-the-Pooh said, “Think think think!” January was occupied with relearning, persevering, and never quitting. (If I was a smoker, I would have really done a number on my lungs in January.)
Something that I thought I learned in October (Item #1) turned out to be an “urban myth”. (I put that in quotes because I am not urban but I bought into the myth.) Microwaved water does NOT kill plants. A friend tested it. She also sent me to Snopes, a site that I don’t fully trust, so when I heard that myth from someone I trusted, I just believed. I’m sorry for misleading you.
Every Drop, graphite on archival paper, framed and matted to 14×16″, $400, available here.
2. After over a year of wrestling through design, decisions, details, logistics, and finances, this is the result. It was a process, and I think the overarching theme is “Nevuh nevuh nevuh give up”, as pronounced by Winston Churchill (This seems to be a post of quoting English sources who repeat words. )
3. While putting in my monthly shift at the Mural Gallery and Gift Shop in Exeter, I discovered a new kind of picture frame for paintings—oil or acrylic, not watercolor, which require mats and glass because they are on paper. If I can find them AND if they aren’t expensive AND if they look good, this could be a way to frame my plein air paintings for the show coming in August. (Did anyone from England famously say “If, if, if”?) I paint on board, not canvas, when painting plein air, so they need to be framed. (Just learned these are “float frames”)
4. There is another topic under the heading of “Nevuh nevuh nevuh give up” which deserves its own post and requires some permissions, so it will have to wait. But here is a clue (just the preliminary cover design):
5. I am now in the process of editing and formatting two new books. Neither one is ready for public disclosure, and as I work, it becomes very apparent to me that I will NEVER be comfortable with anything designed by Microsoft or Adobe. When I think I understand how something works, either it gets redesigned so that I have to spend time relearning it, or so much time has passed that I have to start over because NONE OF IT, NONE NONE NONE, is intuitive like Mac.
February, my first favorite month, will rescue me from this malaise.
Someone I met through giving my How To Draw talk back in November expressed a desire to take an oil painting workshop from me. She is a can-do, git-‘er-dun kind of person (takes-one-to-know-one), so we set a date, and she gathered 4 other interested people. I learned that she is an art teacher, as is another attendee from the talk. They were joined by a third art teacher, along with a couple of family members for a day of oil painting.
I set up samples and my supplies on one end of the room.Covered with old drop cloths, these tables were ready to receive five students.
We sat together for some chit-chat (a talk about the tools and techniques), and then they chose what to paint from photos that I passed around. (One overachiever chose two.)
I was ever so slightly intimidated by these well-educated art professionals, but there was no reason for that foolishness. They concentrated, asked relevant questions, and we enjoyed the time so much that I forgot to take photos until the 4-hour session was almost finished.
The Overachiever also had the largest canvas size.
This painter used to oil paint regularly, perhaps 40 years ago.
This painter thought her pomegranate looked like a tomato until we figured out a little visual texture through color variation was the answer.
This painter admitted to feeling a little uncomfortable about learning publicly; I confessed to the same feeling with all her education and experience. We had a good laugh, and then carried on like old comfortable friends.
This first-time painter showed me some photos of her own art, —custom designed, beautifully decorated sugar cookies! (She didn’t bring any, boohoo, but I am glad I didn’t have to tell her, “It is forbidden.”)
Excellent start! Because my style of painting is called “glazing” (layer after layer after layer), it is my hope they will finish these paintings on their own. (And if they need help, I hope they will email or call).
THANK YOU FOR AN EXCELLENT PAINTING WORKSHOP, Maddie, Amy, Janeva, Angie, and Jeanne!
P.S. They learned about layering, working “lean to fat”, getting the design on the canvas without first drawing it in pencil, mixing colors from a double primary palette (2 blues, 2 reds, 2 yellows, + white), how to get the paint onto the canvas to look like what you want, how to put leftover paint back in the tube, and how it takes FOR-EV-ER to complete a painting.
… is in bloom in my yard in January. They are called “paperwhites” and are very fragrant.
That…
… was completely blocking everything in the driveway one day. My neighbor is an outstanding tree service guy, and it was time to do some serious tree trimming on our property. (Not going to plug his business for him because he doesn’t have a website and doesn’t want jobs outside of the area.) I didn’t watch him and his crew do their interesting and skilled work because I was doing a year’s worth of bookkeeping in preparation for taxes. Ugh. That again. (year after year after year after . . .)
Something Else
What is this? Gessobord is a smooth surface on which to do very detailed oil paintings.
After my week in Monterey, I wasn’t convinced that plein air painting is for me. (Still not convinced.) However, I was convinced that I love the beach (this is not news), that I really love mixing these colors, and that I want to do some very detailed paintings of the waves. This means studio paintings from photos, because you may have noticed that those waves will NOT hold still.
First, a thin layer to cover the surface and establish where things will go. Just the opportunity to use non-mountain, non-citrus colors thrills my little heart.
The second layer gets even more thrilling. (I didn’t show you the beginning layer of these two.)
After these dry, I will add even more detail, then sign them. After they dry yet again, I’ll scan them so you can appreciate them more.
Finally, you can see them in person when I have my next solo show, coming in August*. The paintings always look better in person.
*Hold your camels; I’ll let you know more about it when the time is right.
Let’s just enjoy some photos today, no chitchat about going to town, no stressing over prices, no struggling with plein air painting.
That pair of red chairs is so insignificant in a photo but calls to me every time I look across the canyon.
Twenty-six years ago when I walked in this place, it was hard to find the trails. Now everyone who walks here seems to know the place because it has been splashed all over the world wide web.
At least now there are good bridges over the creek.
This would make a nice painting. Not plein air, at least not for me. Too far to schlepp the gear, and the light wouldn’t hold. Too many people hovering too.
A commissioned pencil drawing for a retiring Visalia city council member in 2022.
This post is just to vent my thoughts about a day spent in Visalia. It might fall into the categories of “Why is She Bloviating Again?” or perhaps “Too Long, Didn’t Read”.
I headed down the hill to Visalia one morning and was tailgated around the lake. What does tailgating accomplish when there is no place to pass and the tailgatee obviously cannot drive any faster than the person in front of her? The tailgater ignored the first 2 passing lanes, and then roared around at the third one. Good riddance. (See you at the light at the four-way, if I’m careless and you are lucky.)
My first stop in town was one of those giant office stores to get some papers shredded. There are 2 on the same side of the same busy boulevard, and I picked the wrong one. “Wrong one”?, you may be asking. This one apparently had only one employee who was running his feet off. It also is the one where the customer has to stuff all the papers in a bin, rather than the employees just taking care of it.
I survived. That sort of situation with waiting and inconveniences is a chance to just look around and observe folks. I saw 2 other women near my age, and all three of us had our hair up in those claw-type clips. There was an obese man in a cart who felt the need to explain to the clerk (a second employee eventually emerged from a break room) that he had been a dedicated baseball player who played on winning teams until age 38. No one seemed put out by his need to explain why he requires a cart to get around; the dude was obviously very lonely.
There was a quick stop to unload a box of unnecessary items at Rescued Treasures, a thrift shop enterprise run by the Salvation Army the Rescue Mission. It was close to the wrong giant office store, so maybe that wasn’t the wrong one after all.
A kind and generous friend had given me a gift card to Sprouts, which is a fancy grocery store with bright lights, organic foods, and shockingly high prices. My hope was to buy raw milk, something I have been curious about for a long time. (My interest began when I met some people associated with an Arizona dairy called Fond Du Lac Farms.) Alas, it wasn’t meant to be because their shipment hadn’t arrived for the week. Another customer was waiting for it and he told me that he pays $17 a gallon. I would have been quite content with just a pint, but that curiosity will have to wait.
The prices almost made me need oxygen, and the lights were so bright that I wondered if sunglasses might be in order. I wandered around the store, reading labels, thinking, doing math, not wanting to waste the gift card on stupid stuff. Finally, I chose some lunch meat and a tray of sliced cheeses to share with friends on an upcoming outing, found some herbal tea that supposedly fights blood sugar levels, and a few mixed nuts that promised no peanuts (because they are just too pedestrian for Sprouts’ customers). The checkout was a self-serve with a friendly worker there to assist. The total for my four items was $29, which was $4 over the gift card. (I thought it was better to be over and pay some cash than to have to return to use up one dollar.)
Next, I headed out to find another new grocery store, about which I have heard great stuff for several years. Aldi’s is on the far south end of town, bringing to mind a threat in my childhood that “one day Visalia and Tulare will be merged into a single town.” Hasn’t happened yet but the growth is steady in that direction.
Aldi’s is known for charging 25¢ for its shopping carts, which gets returned to you when you put the cart back in the corral. (It locks into the cart behind it to spit your quarter back out.) I wandered around the store, comparing prices with those on a Winco receipt, trying to be smart about spending. I bumbled and fumbled through the self-checkout with its pushy computer voice telling me to either scan the next item or finish and pay. I kept telling “her” (it didn’t announce its preferred pronouns but the voice was female) to just hold on. Oddly enough, the total was also $29, but this time I got eleven items.
My grocery list was barely touched, so next I headed to Winco, my normal grocery store. I try to only shop every 6-7 weeks, with Trail Guy supplementing for dairy and produce at our local overpriced but convenient market (Let’s see. . . 1-1/2 hour driving and $15-20 for gas to save money? Nope.) It was a thrill to quickly find just what I needed at prices I was accustomed to paying. It had only been about 5 weeks, so the cart was manageable. Sometimes I almost need 2 carts when I wait too long between trips.
It was a massive relief to finally be on the freeway heading east into the mountains. The foothills are green, the sky was blue with puffy white clouds, and although there were a few tailgaters, I was heading home and didn’t care. Does it bother anyone else when people try to force you to pull behind a big rig so they can drive 80, not caring that you are quite happy to go 70, which is 5 miles over the speed limit, not caring that you don’t want to drop to 55 or 60 behind a big rig? What is wrong with people?
Here is my theory about what is wrong: people live in crowded conditions, with too many stores, too many choices, too high of prices, too much to do, too little quiet and privacy. It makes them anxious and cranky and impatient. Or, to quote Anne Lamott from her Twelve Truths of Life: “Everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy and scared.”
P.S. Dennis Prager wrote about this topic several years ago:Imagine No Big Cities. (Thank you, DV!)
On a sunny January day, we went for a stroll, and I took a few photos with my inferior phone camera. I really don’t need any more photos, but one never knows if the light will be the best it has ever been. If I was more motivated, I would have taken some paints, a tripod, a palette, and a pochade box. Then the walk would have been a business trip. Nah, too much gear—I would have needed to drive and missed out on the exercise.
The walk was a time for contemplating matters of consequence along with enjoying the ability to see beautiful sights while soaking some rays*. In retrospect, it was an important time of peace because when we got home, we received two unwelcome pieces of news.
Two people in our lives died: one was unexpected, an important person in our lives; the other was expected, an important person to people I care very much about. The ability to enjoy being mobile and vertical, see familiar and beautiful sights, and absorb some sunshine . . . so many people, particularly of our parents’ generation, are dropping. . . kind of hard to form complete sentences around this.
*Has anyone else noticed that people no longer just drink water? Now, they “hydrate”. Is it possible to just enjoy sunshine anymore or do we all have to “get our vitamin D”? Is it all those ridiculous commercials on teevee which try to turn us into pharmacists who “ask our doctors” about various medicines, or into nutritionists prescribing forty-eleven supplements that will allow us to all live as 20-year-olds indefinitely? Tiresome stuff.
Today’s post is long, lots of words for a subject I have pondered for over three decades. It might fall into the category of Too Long, Didn’t Read. If talk about art business bores you, please come back tomorrow. If you make it through to the end, you truly are My People. If not, I hope you will rejoin My People tomorrow!
An important question to ponder when considering one’s next step in the business of art.
In an ongoing conversation with an artist friend who is working hard to build up her art business, several things came up. I told her that much of what I have tried through the years either didn’t work, or it is now irrelevant and out of date. After the 30+ years of building an art business, my main takeaway is a very valuable and hard to earn item: local name recognition. I know My People and My People know me.
When in a quandary in life or in business, sometimes it helps to go eat some ice cream.
List of No Mores
I spent years trying many avenues of marketing; here is a very long list of things I now simply say “No, thank you” to.
People want to borrow our work and not buy it. When someone says “It’s great exposure”, in an effort to get artists to participate in something that will take time, expense, and effort, I say no thanks. A person can die of exposure.
No more giving away my work (unless it is an organization I support). It never resulted in any sales, and one year I actually gave away more than I sold. (Another artist friend told me, “Oh, I just give my junk that no one will buy”. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? What does that do for an artist’s reputation??)
No more shows with entry fees. It costs to make the art, deliver it, and then retrieve it; IF the piece sells, the show organizers keep a percentage.
No juried shows—my work is rejected more than accepted. Most often these are juried by folks from cities who do not value realism. These are not My People. I’m looking for sales, not ribbons. (I did very well in the Ag Art show in Madera for a handful of years; then when their entry fees went up, they shrunk the number of categories, and gas became so very expensive, I said “NO MAS!”)
No traveling for art fairs—my work is locally based, and there is no point in chasing down new markets with new subjects which don’t speak to My People. Entry fees, time away from home, equipment to set up, producing art that is specific only to that area, travel costs, being unknown in that city—none of this seems like a prudent use of time, treasure, and talent.
No more chasing internet stuff—it takes hours (and hours and hours and hours. . . ) of engagement on FB, Etsy, Instagram, Pinterest, to build a name and get sales; then, those platforms can mess with the with internet magic and cut off your followers. I tried all of those, and concluded that my time was better spent actually making art while communicating with My People through real life, snail mail, emails, email newsletters, and of course this blog, followed by tens (people I know, bless your little hearts!)
No galleries that keep 50% (or more), are far away, and can stuff your work in a closet or take a powder in the middle of the night.
No reproducing my work other than on cards; if the original doesn’t sell, why would the reproductions?
No framing my work; people’s tastes vary widely, it increases the cost of the work, and it ties up money in something that requires care and special handling.
Ducks don’t ever think about these matters of consequence.
Exceptions
There are many many exceptions to these rules. They are not etched in stone, and I break them occasionally without expecting any results except satisfaction that maybe I helped someone.
The day after I sent this list to my friend, I got a request from a local nonprofit gallery seeking more art to fill up a group show opening in two days. I called my friend who quickly chose 2 of her paintings along with one of mine which happened to be handy. She delivered, attended the reception, and will go pick up the work when the show is finished. (I have no illusions about selling my one piece.)
My People
My audience is local people, real people I know or have met or who know people I know, people who appreciate this place and my style of painting and drawing. They are people who say things like, “I don’t know anything about art but I know what I like.” They want to work with and buy from someone who makes art they understand, and often custom subjects that mean something to them. They want to work with someone who will listen to them and help them figure out what they want, not confuse them with ArtSpeak or make them feel stupid. My People!
So, my efforts go into making my work the best it can be, pouring myself into my drawing lessons (I LOVE MY STUDENTS!), representing Tulare County to help My People hold their heads up, living here in California’s fly-over country.
I use pencils, oil paints, and murals to make art people can understand of places and things they love for prices that won’t scare them. I make art for My People!
This was commissioned by a lady who saw my painting called “Rocky Hill Reunion” at the show in the fall. It was sold, and she asked me to paint it again for her. Of course I said yes. (The last solo show I had at this location resulted in my saying yes FIVE times to the SAME PAINTING! – Lots of Sawtooth, Almost Finished, so I did a #7, which sold in December of this year.)
This one is a little bit bigger than the previous version, and I simply titled it “Moo”.
You are probably curious about the previous version, which I titled “Rocky Hill Reunion”.
And this one is called Tulare County’s Best II, 24×24″, $1800 (There, Krista, see? I raised my price!)
Studio paintings: slow, careful, no rush, no plein air pressure to finish in one sitting (standing) and leave much looking as if you need a new prescription in your eyeglasses.
