If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
There is a new(ish?) company that makes an alternative to soda (“pop”, “soda pop”, or my favorite “sodie”). Olipop is very expensive, and after the sample pack arrives (not free samples but six each of 2 flavors for a total of $31.03 including shipping when I used the promocode POUROVER for 15% off), then I will tell you what I think. This sodie has 2 grams of sugar, fiber, probiotics, carbonation (that’s the “pop” part of the name), all made from good-for-you stuff. As a highly frugal person, this will be consumed as a treat, and water will continue to be my beverage of choice. And black coffee (with 70% chocolate dunked in it). And Dr. Pepper, which I probably will never consume again. Sigh. (If it tastes good, spit it out.)
The grass in our one small remaining lawn might be Korean Lawn Grass, or Zoysia japonica. This is the third summer of not letting Trail Guy mow in case it will spread by seed, transplanting new clumps as I find them behind the house (23 years ago it was back there but got wrecked during our remodel), hand weeding, and using Miracle Grow to get it to thicken.
No matter how many wonderful visits I make to Hume Lake, it never ceases to amaze me that most of the guests there are more tuned in to relationships than the natural world around them. They love the location but give me the side-eye when I go all nuts about a flower or a tree. Lovely people, lovely place, so different from Mineral King, except that cabin communities do share many common cultural practices. (Here are three posts from 2018 about cabin communities: Cabin Thoughts, Cabin Thoughts Part 2, Cabin Thoughts Part 3.)
I discovered a redwood tree (Sequoia gigantea) at Hume Lake for the first time! How did I never notice this before? The elevation there is 5200′; I think most sequoias grow at around 6000′. Wait, The Duck just told me they grow from 4600′ to 6600′ in elevation. This tree was such a surprise to me that it took me awhile to decide that it actually is a redwood. It is so hard to tell when the needles are too far away to see, and when one is confused about the trees’ preferred elevations—those are my excuses. After I took this photo, I KNEW it was a redwood, because I have drawn and painted that kind of bark so many times. Alas, why did I have to see it on a screen to know? I need to get out more.
Salt & Light, or Reading Rabbit, oil on board, 11×14″, Not for sale
I read a fabulous book called The Ride of Her Life, by Elizabeth Letts. I read a tremendous amount of books and rarely post about them. This one is exceptional, so you get to look it up. Annie Wilkins rode her horse from Maine to California in 1954. She stayed in Tulare for awhile! (The name of my county, but not the county seat, oddly enough.)
Many subscribers to my blog cannot see the photos in the email with the day’s post. Lots of thought has gone into (not) solving the problem, so I finally decided to add this paragraph to the beginning of each post: “If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.” I wonder if anyone will click through to the internet.
Slowly, slowly, I am learning to stand up for my work. If a customer wants an addition after the job is bid, it is called a “change order”, and it is fine to state it as such. If a customer wants something that goes against my better judgement, it is fine to state that and present the reasons. I don’t know why this is so difficult; in most parts of my life I am not a shrinking violet, so why am I like that in my business? (Prolly need counseling.)
There is an excellent art museum in Fresno, appropriately named the Fresno Art Museum. It has multiple exhibits, an auditorium, and a gift shop, along with other things. How did I not know of this place, built the year after I was born?? I went to a “musical memoir” there, the entire presentation created by a dear friend from childhood. She wrote the music, the lyrics, all the dialogue, figured out the whole thing, and performed it, along with 4 others who had some parts too. It was simply amazing (an overused word that actually fits here)!
This lesson was a reinforcement rather than something new: it is great fun to do little enhancements to my neighborhood. It is my hope that reading all the words on this sign will cause people to slow down and think.* Good, but not good enough to spend that much money on something so unnecessary.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
My real art is oil painting and pencil drawing. Road signs, deer cages, book safes are all just for fun. Useful fun, but fun, particularly because I listened to an audio book while working on them: Once Upon a Wardrobe, by Patti Callahan.
Then, I got serious and refocused on my real art.
I took this one all the way to the end.
Then I painted all the skies.
Next, I finished this one. Maybe. Now that I see it here, it is a bit too monochromatic for my tastes. (That means single colored . . . I wonder if wildflowers would look weird in the lower section. Certainly not believable, but maybe attractive.)
Finally, I finished another Sawtooth just before sliding into Idiotland.
Three down (maybe), five to go.
Mineral King oil paintings are the best sellers in the summer. The trick is to guess how many of which subjects and what sizes.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
“Artist” can mean someone who makes stuff for fun and it can mean someone who makes stuff for a living. I’ve been the Stuff For Fun type of artist as long as I have been a functional human. The business end of things came later in life.
Look at this list of phases I have gone through: paint-by-number, woven potholders, lanyards, notecards with pressed flowers with wax paper and glitter, decoupage posters on grape trays, sewing, macrame, crocheting, tatting, quilts, grapevine wreaths, willow furniture, mosaic stepping stones, knitting, bread, yogurt, hummus.
It is deeply satisfying to be able to make useful and functional items, even if one quits the craft before achieving any great level of success. (Let’s not talk about those paint-by-number or potholder kits).
Nothing has changed. A week or two ago, on a day that was meant for oil painting, I had projects galore that were calling out for attention. None of my paintings have imminent deadlines, so I took advantage of a loose schedule.
Current Projects
Project #1 is to turn a discarded road sign into something attractive that reminds people to not race through our neighborhood.
Project #2 is turning a book into a hiding place. (Just a Reader’s Digest Condensed book—don’t get your knickers in a knot.)
Project #3 is PROTECTING SOME FLOWERS FROM THOSE BLASTED DEER IN THE YARD! The shrub in the middle is a butterfly bush, chosen because the deer have ignored another one in the yard for several years. But here in the fake wishing well, one of those miserable creatures has been pruning this shrub with its teeth, and ignoring the petunias for some unknown reason. I planted more petunias, some statice, columbine, and something called “tickweed”. Then I pounded in these bamboo stakes, and later wrapped them with twine in a random, schlocky manner that I hope is very annoying to the deer. (I noticed that one of the tickweed plants had been unplanted and dropped on the ground. Those sneaky so-and-sos were sabotaging the new plantings while I was gathering supplies.)
A few days prior to these projects, Trail Guy moved a chair that was part of the herb garden fencing. It was gone for a short time before he put it back. Meanwhile, this is what happened:
We think Bambi was there all day before we noticed, so I hope he was traumatized enough to NEVER want to return.
My gardening efforts are a continual triumph of hope over experience.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
“Familiarity breeds contempt” in some cases; in the context of my oil painting endeavors, familiarity breeds comfort. “Sawtooth Near Sunnypoint #8” is signed, sealed, and delivered, another commissioned oil painting in the archives.
This means I can move into another comforting subject, one that I love to paint, although this one has its own challenges. This oil painting commission came with much freedom. The customer didn’t care what orchard as long as it is oranges, wasn’t concerned about the foothills, and after much conversation (“Really, you must care about something specific here!”), he decided that Sawtooth and Homer’s Nose made the most sense for the visible peaks. His focus is the children, and he provided good photos.
If I were a loosey-goosey painter, this would be close to finished. Alas, I am a painter who loves detail and when this dries, I will begin drawing with my paintbrushes on this Tulare County classic view.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
Some cabin folks across the creek registered lows of 20 and 21 degrees on their thermometer over the weekend in Mineral King.
Here is a little visible evidence.
A cabin across the creek from us keeps a sprinkler running, and it made a large patch of ice.
My ax froze in its bucket of water. We put it there when the handle gets loose so that the wood swells. (Froze my ax off?)
Here is the neighbor’s ice patch after the sun did its job.
The weekend was beautiful and clear. The parking lot was full of cars wrapped to keep out the marmots.
This marmot wasn’t interested in cars because he lives under a cabin. The cold flattened the corn lily, AKA skunk cabbage. This mule belongs to The Park and is not interested in staying in the corral.
Crystal Creek was low. Nothing was melting up in the high country.
Brrr. We came home early where the weather in Three Rivers was moderate and comfortable.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
Custom art, or “commission” work might be the most satisfying piece of my business. I am painting something that someone really wants, painting with confidence that it will be loved, and confidence that it will be sold.
Artists can be so insecure. We pour ourselves onto paper or canvas, creating something that really lights our fire, getting lost in the process, and then . . . what? Nothing happens.
So, when I get a commission, particularly one of something that I am familiar with (orange groves, sequoia trees, Sawtooth, cabins, or anything Mineral King), it is a real pleasure to paint.
Beginnings
The customers chose 16×20″. I primed the canvas, assigned an inventory number, and wired the back. Pippin hung around, but wasn’t interested in the details. (And the vase of lemon geranium may have repelled the mosquitos.)
It was near the end of the day, and I was in danger of falling into Idiotville, where Stupid, Sloppy, and Careless reside, so I set it aside for the day.
And this is how it looked after the next painting session:
Yeppers, this time in oil paint instead of pencil. Not sisters this time—a brother and a sister, different grove. And no deadline, so I will spend oodles of time make this piece of Tulare County art perfect.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
I really am painting Sawtooth again. In fact, I finished the painting.
Clear, enlargeable photos, along with an operational swamp cooler, good podcasts, and nothing difficult hanging over my head made it easy to just git ‘er dun instead of looking for excuses to stop because it was too hard. Oh wait—must be experience that created the momentum.
See the South Fork Estates sign through the easel? That odd job is completed, which is why there is nothing hanging over my head.
Here is the progression: I have finally learned how to scan and photoshop this size of painting in spite of it being too long for my flatbed scanner. When combined with Photoshop Junior, I can patch the 2 scans together.
This is not that; this is too wet to scan. But, it is finished!! Only took me seven times to get comfortable enough with this scene to be able to stretch it into a 6×18″.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
Yeppers, another Sawtooth oil painting. Sawtooth is visible from the flatlands of Visalia on a clear day and is the signature peak of Mineral King. It has recently become the most popular of the Mineral King subjects that I paint, and a few weeks ago, someone commissioned another version of the “Sawtooth Near Sunnypoint” view. This is number 8, and the first one in the ratio of 1:3 (6×18″, vertical).
As usual, I started with a scribbly base, and then put in the sky, working my way closer and closer to the front.
Suddenly, I was confused on all those mountain ridges, so I dropped into the stream to pick apart the rocks. I photographed the stream in order to see the rock formations at higher water, before the seasonal growth obstructed my vision. I don’t understand water flow well enough to convincingly make this up.
This represents an afternoon of work, trying to perfect the detail on the first pass, knowing full well that I will need to make corrections as the other parts get completed. And then those “other parts” will need to be corrected.
It would be satisfying to spend as much time on every painting as I am on this one. But paintings don’t require the level of detail that pencil drawings do, it isn’t cost effective, and for the most part, my customers don’t even recognize that level of intense detail. (Not everyone is as near-sighted as I am, albeit it with strong cheater-readers these days.)
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
This was the day for the careful work on my odd job of repainting signs for a subdivision in Three Rivers: a gray line around all the letters, and repainting the California quail.
Thin Gray Line
Mixing the color was fun, because I had success quickly. Color precision isn’t terribly important here, but I like to practice my skill. You can see the new gray around the S and the old gray around the other letters. Same, same!
The California Quail
These were harder. I couldn’t tell for sure about the colors, and this particular one had such a sheen to it that I began to suspect it was a decal rather than something that was painted directly on the redwood.
On the more weathered sign, it was clear that the quail were painted directly on the redwood.
The photo only showed the quail on the less weathered sign, which should have been adequate. When I moved over to the other sign, I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t able to duplicate the quail when I turned my back. It took a few flailing efforts before I realized they were facing the opposite directions. I didn’t do a perfect job, but I was able to make them look believable.
Here are the two signs, finished as far as I am able.
Finishing
The lead man on the project knows that I don’t know how to finish these. Mendosign kindly emailed me with a suggestion to use wood stain with a red tint, saying that wood needs to breathe, and that the stain would easily wipe off the painted parts.
Mr. South Fork Estates thought there was a risk that it would make the painted parts look grubby. He will call a painter friend in Visalia for some advice.
If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.
Every summer for the past handful of years, I have had the privilege of joining a friend from childhood at her Hume Lake cabin. She brings 2 other friends with her, and now they are part of the fun that I look forward to each summer. This is a different part of the Sierra than our other home in Mineral King, and it is more than just a geographical difference: the cultural differences are stark. This is not a good/bad situation; it is simply a different situation.
We walk around the lake (3 miles on a well-used trail), rent a water something (rowboat, stand-up paddle board, kayak, canoe), walk among the fancy mountain houses (I can’t really think of these beautiful homes as “cabins”, part of the stark contrast to Mineral King), hear excellent speakers (a Christian camp with good chapel services), reunite with my friend’s cousins (now my friends too), eat too much, laugh until I fall down, talk late into the night, and sleep too little.
The journey this year had this dismal landscape for part of the trip.
The lake and all of Hume escaped last year’s conflagration.
On Saturday evenings after the campers have left, some of the staff race to the end of the dock and fling themselves into the lake. It looks different at different times of day, always picturesque. The dam which creates the lake is highly unusual. It was built in 1908, and the lake was created for transporting logs. My favorite part of the trail is below the dam where it is green green green. Or wait—is my favorite part of the trail where the wild iris bloom?
Or maybe it is at the beginning of the trail. I like the view from the bridge that crosses Ten Mile Creek. We like to walk to the top of the hill, and were blown away by the potential lumber. These folks believe in mechanical thinning, in managing their forest. Could this be why they have escaped the wildfires through the years? The view from Inspiration Point was somewhat obstructed by clouds this year. And finally, this year our visit coincided with the elusive and magical red mariposa lily! (My friends may have been concerned for my mental balance when I insisted that we look for it, amazed that I spotted it, and puzzled by my enthusiasm, but one of them took this photo for me.)
The grass in our one small remaining lawn might be Korean Lawn Grass, or Zoysia japonica. This is the third summer of not letting Trail Guy mow in case it will spread by seed, transplanting new clumps as I find them behind the house (23 years ago it was back there but got wrecked during our remodel), hand weeding, and using Miracle Grow to get it to thicken. 
No matter how many wonderful visits I make to Hume Lake, it never ceases to amaze me that most of the guests there are more tuned in to relationships than the natural world around them. They love the location but give me the side-eye when I go all nuts about a flower or a tree. Lovely people, lovely place, so different from Mineral King, except that cabin communities do share many common cultural practices. (Here are three posts from 2018 about cabin communities: Cabin Thoughts, Cabin Thoughts Part 2, Cabin Thoughts Part 3.)
I discovered a redwood tree (Sequoia gigantea) at Hume Lake for the first time! How did I never notice this before? The elevation there is 5200′; I think most sequoias grow at around 6000′. Wait, The Duck just told me they grow from 4600′ to 6600′ in elevation. This tree was such a surprise to me that it took me awhile to decide that it actually is a redwood. It is so hard to tell when the needles are too far away to see, and when one is confused about the trees’ preferred elevations—those are my excuses. After I took this photo, I KNEW it was a redwood, because I have drawn and painted that kind of bark so many times. Alas, why did I have to see it on a screen to know? I need to get out more.
* Good, but not good enough to spend that much money on something so unnecessary.
The cold flattened the corn lily, AKA skunk cabbage.
This mule belongs to The Park and is not interested in staying in the corral.
I have finally learned how to scan and photoshop this size of painting in spite of it being too long for my flatbed scanner. When combined with Photoshop Junior, I can patch the 2 scans together.
This represents an afternoon of work, trying to perfect the detail on the first pass, knowing full well that I will need to make corrections as the other parts get completed. And then those “other parts” will need to be corrected.
It looks different at different times of day, always picturesque.
The dam which creates the lake is highly unusual. It was built in 1908, and the lake was created for transporting logs.
My favorite part of the trail is below the dam where it is green green green.
Or wait—is my favorite part of the trail where the wild iris bloom?
I like the view from the bridge that crosses Ten Mile Creek.
We like to walk to the top of the hill, and were blown away by the potential lumber. These folks believe in mechanical thinning, in managing their forest. Could this be why they have escaped the wildfires through the years?
The view from Inspiration Point was somewhat obstructed by clouds this year. 
And finally, this year our visit coincided with the elusive and magical red mariposa lily! (My friends may have been concerned for my mental balance when I insisted that we look for it, amazed that I spotted it, and puzzled by my enthusiasm, but one of them took this photo for me.)