The map is too large to put here, so just show up on Saturday at either Anne Lang’s Emporium (open at 9:00? 10:00?) or the Art Co-op (open at 11 a.m.) and get a copy. This month there is a special incentive to visit all the participating places. Each place is worth a certain number of points and there is a wonderful prize!
Say what? “Founded in 1919, Zonta International is a global organization of executives and professionals working together to advance the status of women worldwide through service and advocacy.” They have a chapter in Porterville that hosts a wonderful event called Wine and Art, and I get to be part of the Art part. (that was a weird rhyming sentence!) March 6 is the date, and there still might be tickets available. You can email me and I can forward your inquiry to the right Zonters (I made that up – can you tell?) This is one of the paintings I will have for sale at their event:
Did you know that public speaking is most people’s biggest fear, ahead of death? Wow! That isn’t my greatest fear; in fact, I enjoy speaking about my artwork. (Such a narcissistic person!) In the past few years I have been asked to speak for several different groups, most recently on Saturday.The Mineral King Preservation Society had its annual Picnic in the Park. A historic person, Mary Trauger, spoke first and filled us in on life during the mining days. Then a current person, me, spoke about the Mineral King Mural. Despite the bridge being closed, there was a great turnout! Look at these folks:
We dodged the rain bullet – a few drops, but nothing measurable. I forgot to say that my paintings were for sale! What a missed opportunity, but Exeter, A Festival of Arts did quite well on the mugs, mouse pads and tee-shirts! 😎 I make funny faces when I talk, but we all had a good time!
Wow, that was a great turnout last night! Thank you for coming! Those who came heard that there are 12 hidden things but only were shown 4 of them. They also learned of the 2 dumbest questions and the 3 most annoying comments. I could have gone on about the mural for 3 hours, but it was kind of hot out and the food would have run short before I got any. (no starving for this artist!) Wish I had had the opportunity to speak with every one there and name each person who helped make the mural happen. There will be a little 3-dimensional effect, and possibly a larger 3-dimensional effect. More will be revealed. Meanwhile, have a look at some hidden items:
You probably can tell the first is a coffee pot; the second is NOT a purse but a fishing creel; the third is NOT Sasquatch but a running girl. She isn’t fat – that is her sweatshirt billowing. She isn’t holding a scarf – that is my attempt to blend her into the snow patches in a natural manner.
. . . is sold out! If you are one of the lucky ones to have a ticket to this very enjoyable event, you will not be sorry. The Garden Parties I’ve been to in the past have been wonderful – nice evening outside in Exeter (no mosquitos there!), good food, great auction items, nice music, fun conversations, all around very pleasant evening.This will be auctioned off. I will probably have my hands over my ears, or perhaps my thumb will be in mouth.
It is an 8×10 oil painting on wrapped canvas with no frame. The title is Honeymoon Cabin III or perhaps Honeymoon Cabin IV. The money will go Exeter, A Festival of Arts. This is the only place I give artwork!
This is the crowd shuffling back down the hall as the party was over. The conversations were so much fun. I heard people going on about the bathrooms (“Fine facilities!” in a very Southern accent), talking about how many paper napkins with the White House emblem that they stuffed in their purses, and the cameras never stopped snapping. (In 2007, people took photos with cameras, not phones. I still do.)
We were very reluctant to leave, as were most of the guests. It was all such a beautiful fantasy, and it was hard to believe it was over so quickly. While I changed from my useless high heels to a pair of walking shoes, Michael made friends with Jeff, a Secret Service guy:
He showed him the photos of meeting the President in Sequoia in 2001 and referred to him as “Dubya”. I said, horrified, “Michael! They probably don’t call him that here!!” Jeff said, “Actually, we call him Forty-three”. Isn’t that a hoot?
There are many many layers of security around the White House, several different fences and gates to pass through before emerging onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Here is one last glance back:
I think I stood on a bench for this one. (It was safe – my high heels were in my oh-so-dorky-with-dress-up-clothes trusty red backpack). There was a fence separating us from the White House and another fence separating us from outside the White House.
Our next mission was to locate a Metro Station and figure out how to get back to Alexandria, where we had a 19 block walk back to Janey’s (see why I brought normal shoes with me?) Michael was a little uneasy with this, but since I had just been in China, I knew this would be a piece of cake. Why? Because everyone spoke English here AND we could read the signs. So, that is my story of the ornament. One last thing: have a look at the little item that gave me this adventure!
You used to be able to view all the ornaments but that webpage has expired. It is interesting to note that no where were the artists mentioned, only the National Parks that we represented. And we were instructed to not use our designs commercially—no reproductions, no advertising saying “as designed for the White House”. Since then,I have made more ornaments, although none identical. Besides, I paint better now.
A note about getting “gussied up”. . . I faxed the White House a second time to ask about the dress code. Here in Tulare County, “dressed up” means that I iron a polo shirt for Michael to wear with decent jeans. “Formal” means his best Wranglers, boots, and a “sport” jacket. (“Sport?” What, is he going to play basketball??) Really really formal means a tie with the formal ensemble. So the White House returned my fax with a phone call, and I was told in no uncertain terms (in a nasally whiny tone) that “No denim is allowed on the compound”. This meant a major shopping expedition for Michael.
Me? I found a $3 blue velveteen jacket at the local thrift shop, and since I have enough clothing for a small third world nation of short women who wear their skirts too long, this was adequate to complete an outfit for me.
We arrived in style at the White House, and joined the queue to be officially identified as invited guests. Everyone was excited, dressed up, and friendly. We finally got inside the White House itself and began the shuffle down a long hall. Everything was interesting, everyone was nice, every moment was fun! (incidentally, there were 2 men at the reception wearing blue jeans. Michael asked one of them how he got away with that, and the guy said ,”I don’t dress up for nobody”. Apparently he doesn’t bother with proper English either.)
I could go on and on about the details, but will try to contain my enthusiasm. (You realize that I really don’t get out much so this was over-the-top exciting.)
Here is a photo of the East Room where the reception was:
Outstanding food, truly outstanding! Incredible to be there, really.
Here is the podium where Laura Bush spoke:
We were too short and too far back in the crowd to see her. I was wearing my highest heels, to no avail other than killing my feet, and this was many years before the words “peripheral neuropathy” ever entered my lexicon.
This is the tree in The Blue Room. It was 18′ tall, and my ornament was placed in a perfect spot. Lower right is the back of the head of the woman guarding the tree on the side where my ornament hung. My ornament doesn’t show in this blurry photo—clearly I was a little too wound up to take proper photos.
Here is the view from the Blue Room where we were all standing around in shock and awe:
Suddenly, the carriages turned to pumpkins. Everywhere we looked, a uniformed guard was saying, “This way please”. That had to have been the quickest 2 hours of my life! to be continued. . .
Bob from the White House filled me in on the details of the reception, so I began making travel plans. (Nope, it wasn’t paid for by anyone but Trail Guy and your Central California artist.)
We have very good friends in Pennsylvania who invited us to stay with them AND, get this, lent us a car! So we flew into Harrisburg, which has rocking chairs in its airport. Yes, I know many airports have these now, but remember, this was 2007.
Here is what some of their area looked like: 
After recovering from a red-eye flight (Note to self: NEVER do that again), the next day we drove to Old Town Alexandria, Virginia to the home of our cabin neighbor and partner in my book The Cabins of Mineral King. The drive was so interesting to us. Just seeing signs along the freeway that mentioned Civil War battlegrounds was fascinating to these West-coasters. And the colors – this photo was taken at a rest stop.
I knew I would love Janey’s town from years of hearing about it. Sure enough – just look where she lives! Please excuse the car in the way – parking is at such a premium in her neighborhood that we had to have a permit for our borrowed car and she had to negotiate with a construction crew for a place to put the car. These homes were built in the late 1700s, and I was shamelessly and instantly in love with the whole place.
We got all gussied up, and Janey drove us to the White House. To be continued. . .
In August of 2007, I was asked to paint an ornament for the White House Christmas tree, representing Sequoia National Park. My first thought was “Shoot! Another freebie!” I was told an invitation to a reception at the White House would come with the ornament, and I thought, “So? I have to pay for that too!” A friend told me I would be nuts to turn this opportunity down, and Michael said he’d be happy to come to the White House with me. So, I began painting.
At the time the call came, I was working on a painting of Sequoia trees in the snow.
I bought a few little ornaments and tried the same design on one in acrylic paint, but it dried way too fast. I tried oil paint on another, and that worked well.
Eventually, a large shiny gold ornament arrived. It looked like glass, and I was afraid of dropping it. I put layer after layer of white paint on it, carefully handling it as if would break, because if that happened, what would I do??
During one of these layers, my thumb dented the thing a little bit and I realized it was plastic! That took a load of worry off my mind!
When it was finished, my neighbor came over to take photos of me holding it so that the size would be evident.
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You can see this is no ordinary ornament—it was big, which made it much easier to paint than my little practice ones.
There was a little difficulty about the reception because no date was given and reservations needed to be made. We painters were given a fax number to send any questions (remember, this was 2007), so I sent a note asking when the reception was and how tight the deadline for mailing the ornament was. As I was frantically trying to program in the fax number so a response could be received by my fax machine, the phone rang. (Yes, I had a phone/fax machine.)
“Cabinart, this is Jana”, I answered.
“This is Bob at The White House”, came the response. “Hi Bob,” said I, ever so casually. To be continued. . .
