The Minnesota customer replied quickly and thoroughly to my inquiry about the two different versions of the cabin. I couldn’t tell if there were actually two gable ends, slightly different, or if some changes had been made. She said the cabin has been a work in progress and changes get made regularly. The three rows of shingles beneath the upper gable window is the most current. She also sent this helpful set of color coded photos.
We had a rainy day, which is perfect for drawing. I went to the studio where the distractions are limited and the heater works well, and was psyched for a day of pencil, my favorite art medium, drawing a cabin, my favorite type of subject.
See the edge of my laptop? There is NO WAY I could have done this almost impossible drawing with this degree of detail without viewing the photos on my laptop. I lightened the shadows of the very dark places, enlarged the photos enormously, and even flipped the summer view of the gable end horizontally so I didn’t have to guess how all the angles would look. You can see the potential for tying one’s brain in a knot here:
This view points right.This view points left.
I worked from top to bottom, left to right. This is the best method for a right-hander to not smear. (Left handers can work top to bottom, right to left.) Actually, smearing happens anyway, but it is less of a problem when the paper is covered in this systematic method.
And, I finished the drawing!
Come back tomorrow if you want to see it. Same Bat time, same Bat channel. (I never actually watched Batman because we only got 2 channels, not the third one that had Batman on.)
Which of the three sketches of a Minnesota cabin did the two sisters choose?
They chose A! (The exclamation mark is because that was the one I was hoping for.)
I cropped all the extraneous cold stuff. The sisters asked if I could show a bit more porch, and the best I could say was, “I’ll try.” There just wasn’t much to work with.
I spent an entire hour struggling to place the cabin so that there would be room for part of the wings on either side of the gable, in order to squeeze in a hint of the porch. It took a very long time to get the angles exactly right. This sounds excessive, but architectural subjects are not forgiving, and if you don’t get the skeleton down correctly, the parts don’t fit.
Finally, I was able to begin. (The picture of the drawing below is accidentally cropped—it actually has a 1″ margin around the image on this sheet of 9×12″ archival smooth expensive paper.)
Oh no! When I look at the photo I am using, the window size in the winter photo doesn’t quite match the summer photo that shows the gable end. Further, on the summer view of the gable end, there are 3 rows of shingles beneath the upper window.
Drawing cabins in pencil is the way I started my art business. Now I spend 90% of my artmaking time as an oil painter, so when I get asked to draw a cabin, I am really happy about it!
Someone from Minnesota found me on the internet and asked if I could draw her parents’ cabin in spite of not having clear photos of the entire structure. I told her to send them to me, and I’d see if I could make sense of the photos.
Want to see the pictures she sent?
I knew you’d be interested.
(Pay no attention to the purple lines)
These presented a real challenge. I did three little sketches and emailed the potential customer. She was delighted, and asked me to wait for an answer (yep, dealing with a deadline here) because she needed to consult with her sister.
Which one did they choose?*
Tune in tomorrow. . .
*If you read my blog on April 11, you know the answer to this question.
A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I decided to ride bikes in Lemon Cove, because there are flat roads down there. We parked at the Lemon Cove Woman’s Club (I think that is the odd way the name is spelled), and we were just slayed by the orange blossom scent and the incredible Lady Banks rose at the clubhouse.
As wonderful as it all was, it was still a workday, so we headed back up the hill (in a car with a bike rack—remember, we were seeking flat roads to ride.)
Kaweah Arts sold a painting on their opening weekend, and I needed to replace it.
Sequoia Siblings, 6×18″
No, really, it will be good!
It was a bit of an overcast and chilly day, so I moved into the studio to begin a commissioned pencil drawing. (I’ll tell you more about this one later, as the details unfold.)
After studying 5 not-so-great photos, I made 3 sketches for the customer to determine if I could capture the Minnesota cabin for her parents’ anniversary gift. Then, I lost the sketches. Good thing I scanned them —HEY! I BET THEY ARE IN MY SCANNER!!
YIPPEE SKIPPEE, SURE ENOUGH THEY WERE!
Alrighty then, let’s just calm down. I worked off the laptop to start the drawing (because I couldn’t find the sketches).
About an hour later of checking angles, drawing, measuring, erasing, and repeating the dance several times, I ended up with this mighty impressive foundational drawing.
Gotta draw the dog before you draw the fleas. . . and this dog has many challenges. Never fear—I am up to the task.
Do you remember when advertisers used to try to get our attention with that little descriptive phrase? Did it work? It created some cynicism in me, even as a kid who wasn’t paying much attention.
HOWEVER, I think I have improved the walnut orchard painting.
before
after
Never mind. You probably can’t even see what I did.
Let’s look at the blooming peach orchard.
before
I remembered to work from left to right so that I didn’t rest my hand on wet paint.
This is getting close to being finished. But who knows? I could continue to fix little things that nag at me each time I see the painting.
The Oak Grove Bridge is still my favorite bridge, although it has moved into second place in the Favorite Subjects to Paint category. I worked on it flat on the table, turning it upside down as needed to position my brush where I could watch the tip. Architectural subjects are not very forgiving, and when painted at this tiny scale (6×12″), there is even less room for wobble.
Much of the water and cliffs has to be invented and interpreted through the lens of experience. When it comes to those precise shapes and details, I have to remind myself No One Actually Cares. (It is with restraint that I didn’t fully capitalize that phrase.)
The bridge painting has to dry before I get into the microscopic details on the bridge and begin to polish the water.
Yeppers, I think these three paintings are New & Improved!
I had a morning available to paint but it took awhile to get to it. First, I had to admire Pippin in the window.
Next I varnished three paintings, and then had to figure out where to put them. So I went into the studio to see if there were any available hooks.
While contemplating my space limitations, I remembered this painting. I’ve had it awhile and don’t understand why it hasn’t sold. I love this bridge! So, I texted this photo to my artist friend Krista for her input, and then we talked for awhile about all manner of the business of art. (It is SO GOOD to have someone to bounce ideas off of!) More on this in a later post. . . I have some thinking to do.
As I was doing laps between the studio, house, and painting workshop, TRYING TO GET TO THE EASELS TO PAINT, I looked at the end of the driveway and saw 2 friends with dogs on tangled leashes. The sunshine, the colors they were wearing, the envy that they can go on walks and I can’t just now. . . sigh. I just decided to commemorate the moment with a photo.
FINALLY AT THE EASELS.
Remember this? Duh. The scene has appeared many times on this blog. As long as it keeps selling, I will keep painting it. It is a little different every time, even if I use the same photos.
Oops, gotta go! Weird colors here are due to the somewhat unstable light in the painting workshop. The final piece will be closer to the colors in the top two photos here.
. . .I walked into the painting workshop, looked at all the paintings in their various stages, and just wanted to walk back out.
Why?
Because it was so beautiful outside and because I couldn’t figure out where to start.
Wet and finished
Wet and finished, wet and unfinished
Which to begin on?
The simplest solution was to start where I stopped the day before.
Wet, obviously unfinished
So, I did.
Some friends brought us lunch and we sat together in the front yard, then took a walk. YEA! I got to enjoy the perfect spring day with excellent people!
After lunch, I just dove into those embryonic Mineral King paintings. Knowing my heart wasn’t in it, I just took a handful of the paintings a short distance. When it required too much concentration, I stopped, and began another.
That’s enough on this one.
This used to be my favorite subject to draw and paint before I got completely enamored by orange groves with hills and mountains in the distance.
That’s enough on this. It is just as hard as I remember.
Suddenly the day was finished. None of the paintings were, but four new Mineral King paintings are closer to being finished than they were when I arrived in the morning.
One day I had a bunch of things to juggle, beginning with a “telehealth” appointment. I stared at the landline off and on for 2 hours before giving up.* Rural clinics run by large corporations are bastions of bureaucratic inefficiency and incompetence.
I called a friend who knows people and how to get stuff done. Within an hour, I was at another doctor’s office, and within another hour, I had the promise of a referral that I was seeking. (my feet. . . sigh.) It was a quaint old building with interesting details.
Then I raced to a place where I could get cuttings of myoporum, an easy-to-transplant groundcover. Next, I met the piano tuner at church, and planted some greenery while I waited for Mr. Tuner to do his magic. The two redbud trees that Trail Guy and I planted last fall are in bloom now!
I also fielded a few phone calls and texts. FOUR close friends are dealing with difficult situations right now, and it is good to check in with them (a newly deceased parent, a husband with delicate surgery, a friend with a disruptive cancer diagnosis, a husband with a substance problem). I didn’t talk to all of them, but was alert for any incoming requests for a listening ear or a praying heart. At the same time, I was coordinating with Kaweah Arts Nancy, to deliver merchandise for her opening at the new location. PLUS, I was helping her connect with the piano tuner, because she is also responsible for the Remorial** Building here in town and has an event coming soon that requires a tuned instrument.
The piano got tuned, the calls made, the paintings delivered, and I came home. There was time to admire this dragon arum calla lily. (It seems early this year.)
Too jeezled up to paint any serious details, I sat with lists, canvases, hanging hardware, tools, and stacks of photos, making decisions about what to paint for the Silver City Store in the summer. This is how that process looks. (The jar contains those little moisture absorbing packets that come with each canvas, saved because someone told me they are handy if a cell phone gets wet—may I never need to know this experientially.)
I had made a list of subjects and sizes and ordered canvases for the missing sizes. I pulled out the canvases that were available, and began choosing the right photos, adding hardware and inventory numbers. It was a rough-ish day, so I didn’t trust myself with titles other than the obvious, such as “Sawtooth #49”. I had no idea if that is the right number of times I’ve painted Sawtooth, so I made it up; later I went through my list of Sawtooth paintings and learned there have been 57 other paintings of this iconic Mineral King landmark. (Yes, I changed this one to “Sawtooth #58”.)
I thought the decisions were good ones, but then started doubting some of the sizes and some of the subjects. How many people actually hike to White Chief and then patronize the Silver City Store? Not as many as those who walk on the Nature Trail! So why was I planning two paintings of White Chief and none of the Nature Trail? Recalculating. . .
The next day without time wasted staring at the phone waiting for a phone call that never comes, racing down the hill to a clinic, meeting a piano tuner, transplanting, or coordinating merchandise drop off (but not a day where I don’t check in with dear friends who are on the struggle bus), I hope to finish the details on 3 paintings for the fall show at CACHE, and then begin the first layer on nine new paintings of Mineral King.
Lord willing, the creek, etc. (Read James 4:13-15, if you are so inclined. . .)
*The doc NEVER CALLED, and then the clinic had the audacity to send me a reprimanding letter titled “Missed Appointment Letter”. Believe me, they will be receiving a reply, and I had better not receive a bill!!
**The way our neighbor taught us to say “Memorial” when she was about 9 years old.
A few weeks ago, I went to Tulare. As usual, I chose back roads. There were orchards in bloom, greenery everywhere, and snow on the Sierra Nevada. There is often snow there but it isn’t always so visible from the flatlands. (Smog comes down the Altamont Pass from the Bay Area and collects in the Central Valley.)
Agriculture is the biggest industry in Tulare County, and there is more to ag than citrus, although you might not know that if you look at my art. I don’t get out very often, so when I saw this field of some kind of grain (prolly for cattle to eat or perhaps for dairy cows) with the silos and the mountains beyond, I pulled over.
The base coat, easy stuff.
It looked easy, so I started with the sky, corrected the mountain blue/lavender, and then decided to try the grains. Then, I just kept going.
It was a little tricky to paint into wet paint, but the practice is good for me.
The end of the day has low light, so I took it outside to get a better photo. The color is weird on the silos and buildings, not just because of the low light, but because the mountain blue/lavender paint got mixed in. That is a risk of painting wet into wet. (Sometimes I live out on the edge, painting wet into wet or pulling over on the side of the road for photographs.)
All that remains is to get those mountains right and correct the color on the silos and buildings. I left off a giant house because it didn’t seem important. I’m the boss of my painting, not the photographs or reality (unless it is a commissioned piece).
