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.

Six Reasons I Loved Painting This Rose

The rose painting went to Kaweah Arts for the final hurrah before they close (reopening in March). This meant that I didn’t give it a clever name, just slapped it with “Rose”.

I loved painting this because:

  1. There were specific things to paint rather than vague landscape textures.
  2. It didn’t matter if I matched the color or the shapes precisely.
  3. It was small enough to finish quickly.
  4. The colors were different than in a landscape, my normal subject.
  5. It restored a bit of confidence in my ability to paint when I had so many incomplete pieces without answers as to how to make them look right.
  6. It is just pretty, really truly pretty.

Figuring Out a Painting Challenge

This painting has been in a bit of a time-out. I was a little bit stuck in the messy middle. There are too many instructors in my head, telling me things like “loosen up” and “stop drawing with your paintbrush”.

After studying it a bit, I remembered who is the boss. The Central California artist is known for drawing details, having begun her art business with pencils, drawing cabins and homes and eventually landscapes in minute detail.

Now that she paints in oil, if she leaves out those details, she doesn’t like her paintings and her friends and family ask her if she is finished because it just doesn’t look right.

Allll-righty then.

The trees are too smooth, the foreground is messy-looking, and oy vey, those upper leaves.
Bark texture! Better rocks!
Notice anything peculiar about the painting here? (I have no idea how this happened.)
More sky holes, more bark, better contrasts, branches growing more believably, more details in the distance.

There is still work to be done in the bark, branches, and upper leaves but now I believe this eventually will be worth signing. I don’t remember where I took the photos, but I know it was in Tulare County, most likely right here in Three Rivers.

A Nameless Rose Painting in Seven Steps

Step one: Slap some paint in the approximately correct colors in the approximately correct shapes and sizes on a 6×6 canvas: Outline, background, interior parts.

Step two: Detail the background but not too carefully because the rose is the star here. Just hint around at leafy shapes, using darks and darkers to suggest lots of greens.

Step three: Start on the rose, putting in the darkest areas of shadow that helps to shape the petals. (Pay no attention to the painting behind it on the easel, because I am not . . . I’m doing some productive procrastination here. )

Step four: work from the outermost petals inward. (Why? Because I am the boss of my painting and this makes sense to me.) You can see that I rotated the 6″ canvas so that I could visually follow the tip of my brush. This is called “drawing”; it’s how I paint details. The arrows show you the petals I worked on (so does the glare of wet paint) working from the outermost petals inward. (Why? Because I am the boss of my painting.)

Step five: Paint more petals, continuing from the outside toward the center.

Step six: work on the center with a tiny brush.

Step seven: touch up the lighter parts for more of a glow, and sign it.

There are more steps: let it dry, scan it, spray varnish so the shiny parts (with extra walnut oil to make the paint obey me) won’t stand out, give it a title.

Rose, By Any Other Name, No Thorns, Floral Perfection, Gordon’s Rose, any other ideas for this painting??

Progress On My Favorite Subject

For the past few years, my favorite subject to paint is orange groves with hills and mountains.I’ve had a large (for me) painting in progress in a time-out for awhile. In that bonus week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I worked on it.

First, I photographed it, studied it on my laptop screen, and circled the parts that were not up to snuff (weird cliché, whose meaning I do not know).

I started with the mushy rows in the red oval. It’s all wet and shiny, so these photos may not appear to be an improvement.

The orange oval was next, and I kept expanding the area around it.

The upper right corner was next. I ignored the pink, yellow, and light green ovaled areas, because I am the boss.

Now let’s look at the painting as a whole.

The usual excuses for photography that doesn’t do justice to the verbal explanations: low light, shiny paint, photographed with inferior phone instead of camera, and of course, there are many areas remaining to be detailed. I can’t tell you that it will look better when it is scanned, because it is too big to scan. But I can tell you that it looks way better in person!

Hopeful Beginning and Messy Middle

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When I begin a new painting, there is a sense of “oh boy, this is going to be great!”

When I am in the middle of a painting that doesn’t seem to be improving, I encourage myself that when I can add the details, it will improve. It’s just the Messy Middle.

Here is a look at a hopeful beginning: this is a rose grown by my brother-in-law that just slayed me with its beauty. I took a photo thinking it might be helpful to one of my drawing students, but then I was captivated, captured, mesmerized, gone-zo. (See? hopeful!)

While I worked on it, the painting of the road hovered and lurked in the background, grousing, “What about me? When is it my turn again? HEY, Central California Artist, aren’t you supposed to be getting me ready for a show? Hunh, hunh?”

It was sideways on the easel so that I could visually follow the tip of my brush for more accuracy. I flipped the photo back vertical so you won’t hurt your neck.

Layer by layer, leaf by leaf, branch by branch, I think it is getting better.

Mineral King—Painting the Details

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When we last saw this most popular Mineral King scene on the easels, it looked like this.

A little more work brought it to this stage.

That big juniper tree needed attention, as did Vandever (the peak).

Next, I worked on the shrubs and the stream bank.

It was time to make sense of the stream, starting the farthest away where it curves to the left. That’s not technically correct, because it is flowing toward us, coming from the left. You know what I mean, yes?

Now, let’s back up and see the whole picture again.

Looking good, except the stream was definitely lacking detail.

Next time I show you this painting, I will back up so you can see the whole thing. Then I will probably start adding more detail to the shrubs. Details are my favorite part, but you knew that already.

Five Steps Closer on this One

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This painting was waiting patiently for some attention. I gave it an entire afternoon, photographing it at 5 stages.

First, I put in some sky patches in the upper left.

Next, I strengthened the trees. They are all sort of skinny in the photo, so I will probably choose a few to fatten up. Later.

I mixed several greens and just danced around all over the canvas without a real plan.

Then I worked on the road, along with a bit more specificity in the greens.

Finally, I paid attention to the details in the closer things off the shoulders of the road.

In conclusion, the photo is mostly a suggestion of shapes and light. The details are murky, so I am just winging it, pantsing it, trying this and that with an occasional peek at the photo. Photos. I have several, and yet have no memory of taking these pictures.

Two titles are under consideration: “Take Me Home. . .” and “Somewhere in Three Rivers”.