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.
After Krista and I spent an afternoon painting at the lake (Lake Kaweah), we spent a fair amount of time discussing plein air painting. She sent me a couple of short instructional videos, and I ended up as confused as always, still wondering if I would ever be able to produce decent paintings outside of the studio. I also wondered if any of the paintings I produce in the studio (painting workshop —just a big multi-purpose room) are any good, after I watched those videos. Sigh.
So, I set up the lake painting on an easel in the painting workshop, with the plan to follow the recommendation of one of those instructional videos. The painter said to divide a painting into foreground, middle ground, and background. Pick one (preferably the mid-ground) for your detail. The other sections need to stay less defined.
The way it ended after the plein air session.
This was a bit of a struggle for me because all the parts of this painting seem equally important to me. Finally I decided that the painting would be focused on the river.
I started painting my usual way—from furthest to closest—meaning sky first, then distant mountains, moving forward.
It was too hard to put those rocks in the river with the shadows and reflections, painting wet-into-wet. So, now Alta Peak, Moro Rock, and all the hills and distant trees, along with the lower right corner are blurry.
This needs to be revisited by some better brushes, colors, and attitude. (I’m tryna learn to paint this way, but just not feelin’ it!)
Meanwhile, Krista finished her piece in her studio. After she sent this to me, we talked on the phone and I made a few suggestions, which she implemented. Fall down laughing, as if I know how to improve on other people’s plein air paintings!
Krista was willing and able to meet me at the lake (Lake Kaweah in Three Rivers) to plein air paint, the very next day after Trail Guy and I walked on the lake bottom.
Gear management is one of the most difficult aspects of plein air painting. What do you actually need? Paint, brushes, oil, paper towels, a palette, a way to prop up your canvas (currently I use a pochade box made from a cigar box and a tripod), a stool to sit on or to rest your stuff, and a way to transport it all.
None of my stuff is ideal, because the best set-ups cost up to $1000. Not worth it for someone who doesn’t really enjoy this method of painting and doesn’t paint well enough this way to recoup the costs.
The little red wagon was helpful, but it was downhill to our location so it kept rolling into the back of my legs. Oh well, sometimes there are little annoyances in life that have to be overlooked. We parked the wagon off the road in the mud, did a sketch, then walked farther to do another sketch, knowing no one would bother our painting gear.
The first sketch was the best, so we returned to the wagon and set up.
The light was changing, as it does. But I’m learning to just flow with it, knowing that my painting won’t look good until I finish it in the painting workshop at home.
It was helpful to paint with Krista, to discuss colors and values and to encourage one another.
The time went quickly, and when the shade came over us, it got COLD.
Good enough. Needs work. Duh. Brrrr. One last photo, then I’m outta here.
Krista and I discussed finishing the paintings at home; she wondered how many people do it that way. It seemed that while I was in Monterey, most people finished the paintings on location. But in Plein Air magazine, 80-90% of the paintings shown say “plein air/studio”, indicating that the painters were not able to turn out work in one outdoor session.
Back in the parking lot (it was much easier to pull the little red wagon uphill than have it bashing into my legs going downhill), we ran into my very good friends (another great thing about Three Rivers). They came to walk the dog and fly a kite.
Now I have the song “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from Mary Poppins looping endlessly in my head.
Conclusion: A good time of painting with Krista, another humbling admission that plein air painting doesn’t seem to work for me, but also that I will continue to try. Like taking vitamins, you can’t tell if it is really doing anything, but you continue, just in case.
Mustard is the earliest wildflower in the foothills.
Cockleburs are horrible. I think they are native to this area. They don’t mind getting drowned each year—it seems to be what causes them to thrive.
This is looking downstream toward the dam. The lake is very low, to make room for the winter rains and spring snowmelt, always a situation we hope takes place.
This isn’t a very pretty walk, but the blue of the river takes the edge off of all that grayish brown.
This is where we turned around. After studying it for awhile, we concluded that the lake is slowly filling up.
When heading back to the parking lot, it occurred to me that this could be a nice place to do a little plein air painting.
Stay tuned! I might do some painting here soon with my friend Krista who needs to do a few examples of plein air painting in order to qualify for a job. Like me she is a studio painter, but unlike me, she wants to expand into plein air. I have more experience at it than she does, so I can help her, we can hang out together, and maybe one day, I will actually improve my plein air skills in spite of my less than stellar attitude about it.
