Another Interruption, This Time for Drawing

 

Once again, we interrupt our broadcast for this drawing.

Ever notice the annoyance of the English language, where a noun and a verb can be exactly the same word? And I didn’t actually mean “broadcast”, because we are in a series of posts about cabin life. This drawing fits the category of cabin life but it isn’t about cabin life; it’s about pencil drawing.

Get on with it, will ya??

An old friend (that seems to be where most of my work comes from, but new friends and young friends are welcome to commission me; even friends I haven’t met yet are welcome here) expressed an interest in a drawing from The Cabins of Wilsonia. 

Alas, it was gone.

We had a few options: 1. Oh well, sorry; 2. Buy another book, Sir, and rip out the page; 3. I can draw it for you again.

My wise friend chose option #3.

Have a look at the original photo that I used.

As always, working from a photo isn’t straightforward copying. Every photo has its indiscernible parts, because real life is messy. 

Because my friend was wanting the drawing from the book, I used that old drawing to help me make decisions. (I didn’t lie: although the original is gone, it’s still on my laptop.)

Then, I thought about it a bit more and decided that I ought to be able to do a better job now. That was 10 years ago, and I was cranking out those 272 (was that really the number??) drawings at a rapid pace. This time, there was no deadline. My friend’s only requirement was specific dimensions to go with another drawing, like a matched set.

Here is the other drawing.

And here is its new partner.

(The difference in darkness has something to do with the computer reproduction, not a change in pencils or pressure on the paper.)

This picnic table appears in the chapter called “Brewer”, which is the name of the road in Wilsonia depicted in that chapter. (I got clever that way.) The funny part is that I could not remember where this photo actually was, and I just put it on Brewer because I thought it looked good with the chaise lounge. 

Apparently my friend thought the same. He has actually had a strong influence over my art career, so this makes sense.

Thank you, DB!

Series Interruption for Painting Update

 

Recently I told an old friend that I have no commissions. He said, “I have one for you”. Many years ago he bought a couple of Mineral King paintings from me. One was when I was very new to painting, and according to Friend, I was reluctant to accept his hard-earned dollars for it. He wanted me to paint the two again, so he could see the difference. 

After he sent me a photo of the two paintings on his Mineral King wall, I asked if he wanted one or both, and what sizes. He chose one, a 6×6″, and it is the newer of the two paintings. However, it is still before I kept good records of completed work. (I started oil painting on March 8, 2006. Yes, I remember the date.)

This is his photo:

I looked through my files of completed oil paintings, and holy guacamole, look how many paintings of this scene I have in my records!

This is the first one, probably from 2006 or 2007, when I was still painting on boards rather than wasting canvas.

This is from 2010.

2013

2014

Can’t tell. . .

  •  . . .if these are painted from the same reference photos or not. I can tell that none of them are the one that Friend owns.
  • . . .if these improve through the years.
  • . . .if the 2023 version will be superior to these.

Excuses

  • It is too hot to paint for very long this time of year
  • When the swamp cooler was roaring in the painting workshop last week, I didn’t hear the plumber arrive, so the gate was closed and he left. I now have to wait AGAIN for him to show. (WHY doesn’t he call first??)
  • I am out of practice.

Beginning steps

I found two photos to help me get this right.

Ugh. It’s hot and the swamp cooler is roaring, and I want lunch. There is no deadline, so I will paint slowly with many corrective layers.

Done.

Now, we return to our regular broadcast, a series called “Cabin Life”.

Sold in Spring 2023

If you are getting this post in your email, go to the internet and type in jana botkin dot net (type it in computer style, not the way it is written here).

Sales have been slow. I am not defining “spring”, precisely, and it isn’t over yet. However, I am not producing very much: just editing and formatting 2 different books, teaching drawing lessons, communicating occasionally with the folks on 2 different pairs of murals, and wondering if there will be any reason to paint towards selling at the Silver City Store this coming summer.

 

Lest you think I am bored, your Central California artist is never bored. I am yardening, meeting up with an old friend from high school, cleaning out closets and rooms at church, yardening some more, reading, knitting, walking with my neighbor, and yardening (in case you were wondering.)

How I Finished the Oil Painting Commission

My blog seems to be back to normal, so if you are receiving my posts via email and can’t see the photographs, tap here to go to the blog on the internet.

The large oil painting commission has taken quite a bit of thought and time. It feels very important to make it the best I possibly can. This is difficult for a non-perfectionist, whose main drive is to complete projects rather than do things perfectly. However, as a grownup, I am capable of overcoming my natural bent when it is the right thing to do.

I photographed the painting while it was upside down on the easel.

Then I flipped and cropped the photo, enlarged it to fill my computer screen, and studied it.

This is a weird phenomenon, one observed and used by my drawing students and me. Things often look fine until you see a photograph on a phone, camera, or computer screen. Suddenly the flaws appear.

The result of my study session is a red oval around each part that didn’t look quite right.

Then I mixed up the right colors and began making minuscule corrections. My plan was to photograph the corrections for you, but all wet paint was shiny and looked terrible in the photos. So, never mind that plan.

I lifted it off the easel to sign it and saw that the bottom looked terrible.

Then I looked out the painting workshop door and felt happy in spite of the little hitch in my git-along.

 

Here it is on the easel, ready for the official photograph. In spite of looking tiny in this setting, it is way too big for my scanner.

Wait! You haven’t seen the edges yet!

Finally, paint the bottom of the canvas, and the painting is finished. (Still wet)

I think you need to see it in person to truly appreciate this commissioned oil painting of my current favorite scene of Tulare County to paint for the very patient and accommodating Mr. Customer.

 

Finish the Painting, You Slacker!

My blog seems to be back to normal, so if you are receiving my posts via email and can’t see the photographs, tap here to go to the blog on the internet.

For weeks I have been showing bits and pieces of this slowly emerging commissioned oil painting of what I refer to as the best parts of Tulare County.

One day I decided to stop dabbling and just finish it. Then my neighbor texted me, and when I looked up, I saw her across the street. We haven’t talked for awhile, so I went over and pulled weeds with her while catching up. Then there was this, that, and another thing before I remembered the day’s resolution: FINISH THE PAINTING (YOU SLACKER).

Eventually I realized that most of what remained was details, in other words, drawing with my paintbrush, which is my favorite part of painting.

However, there was still some difficulty in diving in, due to the nature of the fakery on the canvas. I wasn’t trusting my own experience to make the hills and groves look believable. 

What’s a Central California artist to do?

Pick up her brushes and begin, that’s what.

Here is the day’s progression of baby steps, tackling one section at a time (without stopping to pull weeds for about 5 hours straight).


The last step was to paint the edges.

After the painting is dry, I will flip it over and study it further. If there is nothing else left to do that will make any improvement, I will sign it, photograph it, and spray-varnish it. I will consult with the very patient Mr. Customer about a title, write it on the back, and pass it along to its new home.

There! That wasn’t so hard, was it? (Says The Slacker with a slight twitch. . .)

Painting, Wandering, Waiting, and Wondering

My blog seems to be back to normal, so if you are receiving my posts via email and can’t see the photographs, tap here to go to the blog on the internet.

I am slowly working on the commissioned oil painting, and wandering around the yard while waiting to hear about two mural projects (each with two murals) and wondering about several subjects.

Oil Painting Commission

Wandering

Sometimes while thinking about the painting, I amble around the yard.

 

Wondering

I am wondering if the host of my website will sort out the evil robot situation, if I will be able to make the oil commission match Mr. Customer’s vision, when I will hear about those upcoming murals, when I might be able to start, and why the deer haven’t eaten all these irises and roses.

 

 

A Conversation with Mr. Customer

For awhile I had a link in these emails of my daily blog post to take you to the site on the internet so you could see the photos. Now there is some tomfoolery happening with my blog, so I am not putting the link in until it gets sorted out. If you would like to see the pictures, go to jana botkin dot net (written this way to confound the evil robots who are messing things up.)

Mr. Customer and I had a texted conversation about his commissioned oil painting.

Me: Is this starting to look like what you are wanting?

Mr. Customer: It is!


Me (knowing that he is a very encouraging and positive person and needing to verify things a bit further): I have made the mountains as perfect as I know how but I am faking the hills in front of them. The only place the mountains looked that clear and perfect and visible was from Rocky Hill, but from there the hills were just one solid ridge. Hence, fakery. 

Mr. Customer: Pretty darn close

Me: I aim for believability. No one memorizes the actual configuration of the hills, and most people only know a few specific peaks. But even those look different from every viewpoint. So as long as you are happy, then I am happy too.

Mr. Customer: I will be happy. Just so you know.

Yippee skippee! I am happy too!

Paint, Yarden, and Paint More

For awhile I had a link in these emails of my daily blog post to take you to the site on the internet so you could see the photos. Now there is some tomfoolery happening with my blog, so I am not putting the link in until it gets sorted out. If you would like to see the pictures, go to jana botkin dot net (written this way to confound the evil robots who are messing things up.)

The commissioned oil painting of mountains is challenging. I paint a little, get stuck, try to figure out which photo is my guide for whatever section I am working on, paint a little more, and then take a break. Here’s how that looked a week or so ago.

Yeah, no problem, I got this figured out.


Wait, where am I? These rocks aren’t lining up with the right peaks. Where’s a pencil??

Yeah, I got this figured out.

Hunh? Time for a break. I’ll just survey things in the yard, pull a few weeds, decide the next priorities.

Does that mean yard priorities or does it mean oil painting priorities?

These weeds are sure pretty. But remember, one year’s weeds equals seven years seeds. . .

(Oh yeah? Then why do I have prolific weeds in the areas that I have been weeding for 24 years?)

The iris around the pillars are supposed to be prettier than the weeds, but they haven’t bloomed yet.

STOP IT! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PAINTING.

I walked back to the painting workshop but kept seeing beautiful things and weeds on the way.

Finally got back to work. 

Oh no. Now I have to figure out the foothills, again working from forty-eleven photos.

In case you were wondering, I LOVE to work at home, both in the yard and in the painting workshop. 

And I Thought I Knew These Mountains

For awhile I had a link in these emails of my daily blog post to take you to the site on the internet so you could see the photos. Now there is some tomfoolery happening with my blog, so I am not putting the link in until it gets sorted out. If you would like to see the pictures, go to jana botkin dot net (written this way to confound the evil robots who are messing things up.)

After figuring out how to get the right third of the mountains correct, I worked my way back across the canvas, using a darkish blue to delineate the parts I could see. I marked the center of the picture be able to gauge my progress.

Wait! Where is Moro Rock?? It didn’t show up well from the top of Rocky Hill, and I forgot to be sure that it appears in the painting. I thought I knew these mountains. Recalibrating. . .

Why didn’t I know that the other 2/3 would be just as confusing?

Just my usual approach—the triumph of hope over experience.

Time to study all the photographs again and make some new sketches. I needed to see the section from Sawtooth north to Castle Rocks, and then the farthest north section from Castle Rocks to Moro Rock. Each photo had different information, and some were just useless. This made it easier, because there were fewer solutions to choose from.

I made the contrast weirdly strong in order to see details, and also put a few lines on some of the photos. Here are just two samples of what I was working from:

 

Sometimes there is a longer distance between Sawtooth and Homer’s Nose, sometimes Sawtooth barely shows, sometimes trees block peaks, and the light is always different, causing changing shadows that make it hard to recognize peaks.

There comes a point when decisions have to be made and paint must be applied. So, suck it up, buttercup, and make some progress here.

I believe these mountains are correctly placed, correctly sized, and accurately shaped. 

The next step could be either to detail the distant mountains or to get all the foothills accurately placed.

Accurately placed from which viewpoint?

I thought I knew these mountains.