Returning to My Favorite Subject

Orange groves, foothills, and mountains remain my favorite subject to paint. (It used to be the Oak Grove Bridge, and who knows what it will be next?)

I painted this to hang in my dining area, but put it on my website and then, lo and behold, it sold! (off the website—I didn’t open my front door to customers)

No problemo—I just started another painting.

Then, I just left it on the easel for months.

After starting all those small paintings for Kaweah Arts, I finally went back to this painting. If I don’t get it finished soon, suddenly it will be October and then it will go to the solo show and then it will sell without ever hanging in my house first! The urgency. . . !!

Details, details. All those close trees needed details. Of course, once I’ve put all those leaves on, the oranges will need more color or shaping. Then I’ll decide to add blossoms. After that, the ground will need some debris. Next, I’ll decide to put cows on Wutchumna (the hill). Maybe all the distant rows will need refining, the hills reshaped, the mountains improved. . .

Never mind. How about starting another one?

I do love me some orange groves in the foothills with the Sierra in the distance. These subjects are a real benefit of life in Tulare County. (But DON’T move here. It is in California, where people are leaving in droves. Wait—what is a “drove”?? Aren’t people leaving in U-Hauls?)

Seven New Oil Paintings, Assembly-line Style

When Kaweah Arts closed in early January for a couple of months, I retrieved all my paintings. Kaweah Arts sold well for me in its three year span despite serious hardships: a plague, a fire, another fire, and a flood, each one leading to the closure of Sequoia National Park, which meant the flow of visitors to Three Rivers ceased. I went through my records of sales, and came up with a list of sizes and subjects that sold the best.

The average price was $145, and the most popular subject was sequoia trees, Sequoia gigantea, AKA redwoods (the common name) or “big trees” (local vernacular). Two other popular subjects were mountain range views and poppies.

I gathered seven blank canvases from 8×8″ ($100) up to 6×18″ ($165) and then went to my oh-so-lovely newly organized photo files. The efficiency. . .!

After pairing the photos with the right canvases, I then did some preliminary sketching. This isn’t something I normally do, but in the interest of painting quickly, this seemed like a prudent move. (Remember, I also need to produce 20-30 larger paintings for the solo show in October AND paint for the Silver City Store, which sells well for me in the summers when Mineral King is open to the public.)

Next, I did the boring tasks of assigning inventory numbers, and putting the hanging hardware on the back. (This is the sort of task that makes me wish I had an apprentice or an intern.)

All-righty, then! Let’s start with the assembly line style painting of the first layer to establish where colors will go and to cover the canvas.

Painting back to front means starting with the sky. The order of colors and placements doesn’t really matter at this stage, but it is wise to practice good habits whenever possible.
Green next, just using whatever is on the palette, but occasionally making dark/light adjustments.
Browns and oranges, same color family, plus yellow.

Looks like seven little messes that vaguely suggest what they will become, but with almost 18 years of oil painting, this is no longer alarming to me.

I hope you are not alarmed either. This is the most efficient way I know to paint, and these seven paintings will be finished, signed, dry, varnished, and scanned by the time Kaweah Arts reopens in March.

It’s all part of the business of art. (Just in case the Art World is checking in and judging my use of photos, let me explain that I took great care in composing those photos and have taken great care in cropping, blending, adjusting, and arranging the parts of each one of these paintings. So There, because working from photos is not wrong.)

Pictures, Photos, Snapshots, Oh My

33,170. That is how many photos are on my laptop.

I have 12 little drawers full of snapshots collected and used for pencil drawing over the last 37 years. These are in the studio.

I have a filing cabinet full of photos taken, organized and used for oil paintings and murals over the past 18 years. These are in the workshop where I paint. A filing cabinet with folders is not an ideal organizational situation for photos. It takes too long to find what I need, time that would be better spent actually painting.

What’s a Central California artist to do?

Sort, toss, refile, reorganize, of course. This is best done in the house. (Well, happy days, now I have photo messes in all my buildings.)

One of those little 6-drawer cabinets will fit in the workshop shelves. Looks as if those shelves could also use a makeover.

I might need both of those little 6-drawer cabinets in the painting workshop. The photos for drawing in the studio might end up in envelope boxes or shoeboxes.

It’s a long process to get all these actual photos on paper into the proper places, easily accessible, and ready for painting. Remember, it is not wrong to paint from photographs. That’s what studio artists do. (Except when they are trying to make up stuff, bumbling along on challenging paintings.)

Bumbling Along With One, Almost Finishing Another, and Finishing a Third

Your Central California artist bumbles along on one Tulare County oil painting, almost finished another, and finished a commission. Let’s start with the bumble.

The differences are subtle between the before and the after version. In the after version, the lower left corner makes more sense, and there are more branches on the trees.

Before
After

A neighbor-friend stopped by to bring her recyclables because we share garbage services. She works alone at home as I do, and sometimes we just visit for awhile, perhaps our version of hanging out at the water cooler. (Pay no attention to those garbage cans.) She expressed an interest in my current projects, and when I showed her my challenging painting, together we came up with a couple of ideas for improvement. I will continue to bumble along on this difficult painting.

But wait! I made two more adjustments, and then photographed it more carefully. My neighbor approved, which gave me hope. (There will be more adjustments, corrections, and added details.)

I thought I was finished on the Lower Dry Creek Road oil painting. However, the closer fence posts might require some wire. On the other hand, I might not be capable of such minuscule detail. It still needs a signature and the edges to be painted.

Better detailing and color on the golden hills, the dam, the trees. Cattle, fenceposts, wildflowers, done. Maybe I can put in wire on the fence. Maybe I can do a little brain surgery while I am it. . . not feeling capable of wire. . . will it matter?

Better detailing, stronger colors, and a signature now done on Sawtooth #34, a commissioned oil painting for JL’s son. This one is only photographed, not scanned, because it is wet.

Commission, Cat, Correction, Challenge

Someone, let’s call her JL, bought this 8×8″ painting, “Hiking Mineral King” at Kaweah Arts as a Christmas gift for her son.

He loved it and requested a second 8×8″ painting to go with it for his birthday. JL isn’t familiar with Mineral King, so I made a couple of suggestions. The son chose Sawtooth, based on this painting that I sent to JL.

I must have made that one up because there is no such photo. As a result, I spent a big part of a day making it up again, looking at a handful of photos. (The photo on the right does NOT have a waterfall—that is a reflection.)

After this dries, I will work on more details, polishing and finessing. I need to hustle my bustle, because there is a definite delivery date.

Tucker stayed with me for most of the day as I painted.

On the same day, I spent a fair amount of time studying this painting.

Can you tell any difference now? I can, muy poquito.

This painting reminds me of one I did several years ago, one that was definitely a large challenge for me in 2015 (might still be). I just kept guessing, layering, correcting, and slowly improving it. It is now one of my paintings that I am most proud of.

Painting Early Summer on a Winter Day

Dry Creek Road is one of Tulare County’s gems. At the bottom of this country road, there are cattle, irrigated pastures, wildflowers in spring, and views of layered hills (beer cans too, but we will ignore those). This painting combines several of these elements, and depicts late spring when a hint of green remains while summer’s golden hues are emerging. I used two different photos, and combined the pieces that best represent this route in my 60+ years of driving it. (Fear not—the first 16 years I was just a passenger.)

sky first
farthest hills next
moving closer, working forward on those hills
closest hills
all the greenery

By the time the painting was this advanced, the cold was advanced on my feet. I brought the painting into the warm house to dry, and the next time I work on it, I expect to draw a few details with my smallest brushes.

P.S. Is that Terminus Dam back there? Yeppers, it is!

Little Changes, New Start

These two paintings needed more work. (Doesn’t this look weird??)

One of my drawing students* pointed out that with the yellow only appearing at the lower 1/3 of the painting, the 2 different parts look like 2 different seasons. This is a case of needing to change reality. You can get away with odd things in a photo, but when an artist paints odd things, it looks as if she doesn’t know what she is doing.

Ahem. I may not know what I am doing.

I am so firmly grounded in reality that it brings discomfort to just randomly dab yellow among the evergreen foliage when I know good and well there is no yellow there. Instead, I just did a tiny bit of yellow in the distance at a height that ferns would be, if there were any ferns back there.

Is it enough? More will be revealed when it is dry enough to study without a shine, and dry enough to scan. For some inexplicable reason, I can often see problems in paintings better on my screen than in person. (This is probably the same oddity that prevents me from seeing problems in my pencil drawings until they are matted, framed, and sealed under glass.)

This painting had an unnatural looking curved branch over the road from the left. I erased it, but then it looked unbalanced and even more unnatural.

I added branches, reworked others, and added bark texture to the trees I hadn’t gotten to yet.

It would be a bit of a “Where’s Waldo?” situation to see all the minor changes. Maybe I better stop boring you with all these minor steps until I have decided it is finished.

On my list of paintings to do for the October 2024 solo show at CACHE is an 11×14 of Dry Creek Road. I have these two photos, both of which have elements that are striking. I decided to combine them, just making it up in the most believable manner possible.

This messy stage feels hopeful. I wonder if anyone will like this made up scene. Guessing what might sell, combining that with what really calls out to be painted, deciding the right sizes of canvas to match with the scenes—these all fall under the business of art.

*I sincerely appreciate this sort of input. It helps me and also reassures me that my students are learning (probably know more about art in general than I do) and that they are not afraid to speak the truth.

Working From Photos Is Not Wrong

The Art World in general looks down on studio artists who work from photos. I mention this from time to time, because the notion that working from photos is wrong bothers me.

In order to work from my photographs, I have to find the scenes, find the best angles, light, and cropping. The photos go on the computer for editing. It takes time and thought to decide which might be worth painting and how many different photos to combine to have all the angles and details needed.

It is a rare instance when a single photo tells the whole story. This is why I loved painting “Rose” —a single photo, easy to understand textures, forgiving colors, specific shapes. Sometimes I need an easy project to rebuild confidence.

A friend took a photo while hiking. She recognized the subject and textures and light as something I might like to paint. She was right, and generously sent the picture to me.

That leaning tree had to go. Easy enough, but without it (and even with it), the photo felt unbalanced, with all the redwood trees on the left. As beautiful as the yellow ferns are on the bottom, they just didn’t quite seem balanced to me. I cropped in various ways, and chose this:

As much as I wanted to just copy the photo, I cannot. This is not “cannot” as in “I cannot tell a lie” —it is “cannot” as in I lack the ability. The background greenery is too mushy and vague while the ferns are far too many and far too detailed. I think painters are supposed to interpret the photos, using their own abilities and opinions to show something that will ALWAYS be better in person (both the actual scene and the painting).

This painting is about three main elements: the sequoia trees, the golden ferns, and of course, the light. It is 12×16″, titled “Below Panther Gap”. Or maybe “On the Way to Panther Gap”, or “Somewhere Below Panther Gap”.

So many decisions to be made. At least I have settled the decision whether or not to feel guilty about painting from photos.

More Thought Required

This painting is So Difficult. I continue to engage in mental and artist gymnastics in hopes of making it good enough to sign.

This is where I last left you, in the saga of Can I Actually Finish This?

I found a painting by Bierstadt that had light and clouds and mountains in the distance; briefly I deluded myself by thinking I could copy his technique. Then I saw a poster with rays of light coming through redwood trees, advertising Kings Canyon National Park, and briefly deluded myself into thinking rays of sunlight would look good here.

Using either of those ideas would be the art version of “duplicitous language”. It is inspirational to look at other people’s brilliant art, but copying would look contrived, pieced together, and derivative (meaning obviously stolen). There must be a way to be influenced by others without actually copying.

Next I spent time looking through the 30,000+ photos on my laptop, hoping that if I found the original photos that a solution would come.

I FOUND THE PHOTOS! These were taken up North Fork Drive in Three Rivers back in 2010, I think, but now I can’t remember the exact month or the year. (Gimme a break here—33, 224 photos!)

These aren’t really very much help. Look at the overhead canopy of leaves, the somewhat disconnected branches, the skinny trunks. It is the light and shadow that make this a nice photo, but I cannot duplicate what is here convincingly.

I kept studying the painting, wondering what was wrong with the trees. I’ve thickened the trunks and begun adding bark, so what’s wrong here? Maybe it is that one curving from the left over the road that looks phony-baloney. You can get away with weird stuff in photos, but if you copy it in your art, you will look ignorant.

Better, but not believable yet.
I added more bark texture while contemplating the next move.

It was time to study some real trees, so I took photos of different oak trees while out walking.

This will require more thought, more experimentation.

Drawing in Pencil for the Joy of It

A few months ago I started this pencil drawing, simply for the joy of drawing (and to prove to my drawing students that I can draw). I worked from photos that I took in Mineral King last fall. The light, Audra’s hat, the lack of dealing with a face or an actual complete horse all caught my interest, along with the dynamics between the woman and the horse.

This horse was the last one to get loaded for transport down the hill. Audra was so patient, just waiting for this recalcitrant horse to follow her into the trailer. “Recalcitrant” because he spent most of the summer outside the corral with a couple of mules. The others just watched while staying in the boundaries. Then, sure enough, this guy was not interested in joining the herd to head down for the winter.

Because the hat seemed to be the most important part, I started with it. If I can’t get the most important part to look right, there’s no need to waste time on the rest of the picture.

I had a little bit of difficulty with some of the shapes, so I made corrections and showed those to my students to demonstrate how to repair problems (and to stay humble). But I didn’t photograph the corrections—they were for my drawing students to learn from. (Do you want lessons? I have a waiting list, and you are welcome to get on it!)

Drawing lessons were suspended in December, because that’s the way we roll. I was occupied with many things, some work-related (painting, blogging, participating in a little bazaar, resupplying my vendors, filling calendar orders, sending Christmas cards to my students, sending out 2 newsletters—are you on that subscription list? —planning a solo show for Autumn 2024, ordering supplies, doing some year-end bookkeeping) and some non-work-related (you don’t need a list of this stuff).

As you have recently read here, I was a little flummoxed by how to proceed on several paintings, so I used the excuse that it was too cold to paint in the workshop and went into the studio to finish this drawing. (I love to draw in pencil—did you know that?)

Because I wasn’t showing my drawing students along the way, I didn’t photograph or scan any of the rest of the steps.

Here it is almost complete. “Almost”?? Yeppers, because when I scan it, the white paper scans as gray, and the pencil has a brownish cast.

This is unacceptable, so I use Photoshop Junior (actually Photoshop Elements) to erase the margins.

The drawing is simply titled “Audra”, not “A Girl and Her Horse” (she’s a grown woman and it ain’t her horse), not “Big Hat, No Cattle”(no cattle in Mineral King because it is National Park, not National Forest) or “Wranglers Are For Women Too”. . . wait, that one is pretty cute. Maybe it should be called “Wranglers Aren’t Just For Cowboys”.

Nah, the hat is more important.