As Martin Weekly set up his painting, I stood in the shade of the juniper, took photos, and just listened and watched. As a Questioner, I bit back many questions, and waited for him to either talk to himself or to address me directly. He shared a tremendous amount of experience and information, which I wrote down when he was finished for the afternoon.
The second roughed in sketch.
Blocking in begins.
There is great comfort in knowing that even the work of a master begins looking scribbly and worrisome.
See those bright orange dots? That is the way Marty checks his values (the darks and lights) because orange is a strong middle value. He can compare any color to see if it is darker or lighter, because a painting needs all the different darks and lights to be good.
This is the scene we were viewing, but of course our eyes take in so much more when standing on location than can be captured by a camera lens.
Marty sees colors differently than I do.
We joked about how paintings look so dreadful in the beginning stages. I always say, “Best viewed from the back of a fast horse”, and he said, “Might look good at midnight with the lights out while wearing sunglasses”.
To the right side of the scene is a weirdly shaped juniper tree and the Honeymoon Cabin. I wondered if he would include those 2 signature items that tell exactly where we are.
It was time for sky so the top of the peaks could be defined. Marty uses a different color of blue than I do for skies, and I thought it was perfect! Why haven’t all the various instructors I’ve had ever mentioned Cobalt blue for skies?? Everyone else swears by Phthalo or Cerulean blue!
We talked about the weird juniper, and Marty thought about it. He decided to not have any trees shooting up above the line of the peaks. This was a concept I never considered; I thought if you made the trees too short, the perspective would look wrong. Not so when Marty does it!
Martin Weekly, AKA Marty, is a master plein air painter and a friend. Recently he painted in Mineral King, and I had the privilege of watching over his shoulder.
He set up in a place that wasn’t highly visible to the public, although we did have a few observers who watched briefly (and one who asked some annoying questions when he was trying to concentrate, which is just part of the job.)
Marty set up his easel at a place and time that he scouted on the previous day.
See? Barely visible.
He set up his supplies and began painting. I was astonished to see that his methods and materials are completely different from that of Laurel Daniel, an equally accomplished painter who taught the workshop that I attended in Georgia in April.
His palette contains colors I’ve never seen used before instead of the primaries, as I learned from several sources.
His canvas is HUGE compared to what Laurel uses in the field, and he referred to it as “small”!
He began by toning the entire canvas with burnt sienna mixed with turpentine; Laurel uses linseed oil and doesn’t “tone” the canvas.
He began drawing the scene with the same color; Laurel blocks it in with a mixture of burnt sienna and french ultramarine.
I was greatly reassured when he had to do the outline several times and completely erased it once. This guy is truly a master, and to know he also doesn’t always get it right the first time gave me hope.
Come back in two days for more of my session with Marty.
In 2012 I made my first calendar. It was an experiment, because a calendar has a short time to sell, and when it is over, a business is stuck with unsellable inventory. The calendar sold well enough, 100 turned out to be the right number, and I have continued making calendars ever since.
When reviewing the calendars, it looks as if they are random. In fact, each calendar represents the previous year’s focus (or obsession). There are photos, paintings, and drawings.
2013 – I didn’t save a picture of either the front or the back, so I don’t know what it was about or what I named it. I ordered about 10 or 20 at a time because I didn’t know how well it would sell. (Obviously I didn’t know much that year.)
2014 – Back when I only had about 15,000 photos, I was able to go through and select 12 for this calendar without too much trouble. But what did the front look like?
2015’s calendar was my best oil paintings that were horizontal and of Tulare County subjects. I called it “Beautiful Tulare County”. Again I ask, “What did the front look like?”
2016’s calendar was pencil drawings of Tulare County (of course) cabins–Wilsonia, Mineral King, Camp Nelson. Why didn’t I save a picture of the backside??
2017 front – the calendar was a blend of drawings and paintings.
2017 calendar back “The Bridges of Tulare County”
2018 was Flowing Water, because in 2017 we had a most welcome wet winter and the flowing water was to be celebrated.
2019 – was very fun because I got to draw 11 new pictures and figure out ways to incorporate color.
2019 still has many of the original drawings available. Want any? None are framed. All are 11×14″ or 9×12″. You can make an offer. If it is too low, I will not take offense but might counter-offer. (Normally those sizes sell for $200-275 before tax).
What will the calendar for 2020 be?
Mineral King Wildflowers!
Of course it is about Mineral King wildflowers, my current obsession. It is in progress, so you will have to restrain yourselves until it is for sale.
This year it will be $15 if ordered by October 1, and $20 if ordered afterward.
Does this title please you as much as it does me? Heheheh. (That’s me snickering).
After having a wonderful reunion with wonderful friends in a wonderful place (is Lawrence Welk around here somewhere??), I wanted to commemorate our time together. As a Central California artist, art seemed like the right choice.
(We went to Shaver Lake. I wrote about it on Tuesday.)
I painted 5 Little Shavers. See?
An easel adds cuteness and versatility.
2×2″ paintings won’t take up much space in people’s lives.
Our hostess got the big oil painting of Shaver Lake (can’t call that a “little shaver”.)
This is actually Tunnel Creek, which comes into Shaver Lake via a tunnel from Huntington Lake, I think. Hence, “Tunnel” Creek. We are clever like that here in California’s flyover country.
In case you were wondering if I just paint and paint and paint, creating large stacks of paintings to be stored, today I am here to reassure you that my paintings do sell. (Thank you for your kind concerns.)
Have a look at recently sold paintings. Due to an onslaught of laziness brought on by summer heat, this will be pictures only, without sizes, titles, or prices.
I liked sitting by the stream to paint, so I set up the next day in the morning so it would be shady. The idea was to paint the same scene with different lighting, but I ended up leaving out the juniper this time. Why? Because I wanted to, and I am the boss of my painting.
This time I used the lid of the palette to balance, because the less stuff I have to juggle, the better.
But wait! Before I started this painting, I decided to try one from my memory and a sketch I had made the evening before. Because we are fairly social on our road, evenings, especially on holiday weekends, are for neighbors, not for working. So it wasn’t convenient or friendly to disappear to work when people had braved that road and wanted to socialize.
Ummm, no. This will need some work in the studio.
Vandever & Stream, 8×8″, sold.
There is a theme here.
There. I’m done with plein air in Mineral King posts for awhile. I just wanted you to know that I am still working, even though it seems as if I just goof off in Mineral King in the summer.
After painting Empire and Vandever with the Crowley Cabin in Mineral King, plein air (on location), my confidence built. But, I didn’t like schlepping the easel around or setting it up, so I tried it sitting down by the Honeymoon Cabin (at the beginning of the Eagle/Mosquito trail). This was most pleasant, right by the stream. But in the afternoon, it was not in the shade, and there was no convenient place to put my palette. If it ain’t one thing, it’s anuthuh.
This scene?
No, I think this way with the juniper instead.
I had company.
Trail guy borrowed a sign from inside the Honeymoon Cabin (a mini museum) to rest the canvas on.
There was a root that made a perfect foot rest.
“Vandever, Stream, Juniper”, 8×8″, oil on wrapped canvas, $100
Remember that I went down to Georgia (no, I’m not the devil) to take a plein air painting workshop from Laurel Daniel? The goal was to be able to do plein air painting in Mineral King.
I was a little nervous, having waited 3 months to attempt the techniques again. Mineral King feels so public, probably because it is, and I was glad there weren’t many people around yet. Still, I set up my easel in an obscure place, and remained invisible in the shade despite my trusty red backpack.
See? My set up is barely visible.
The plan was to paint Empire (the rock outcropping, not the highest part of the ridge) with a few cabins below.
Too much – needs to be narrowed down.
Maybe this horizontal view?
Nah. Let’s go vertical. (“Let’s”? Got a mouse in your easel?)
I reread my notes and then just began as if I knew what I was doing.
The sketch helped me see which elements I had decided to leave in the scene.
When I started adding the color, I forgot to stop and take photos of the more intermediate steps.
No one noticed, because no one passed by. I was glad.
Starting to look like something!
This was the view from my place in the shade.
Here is the finished piece, dry and scanned after I got back home. (It was tricky business finding a place to put the painting to dry in our 400 square foot cabin, but we are always innovative with the limited space.
Empire & Cabins, 8×10″, oil on wrapped canvas, $125
The whole time I wondered what Laurel would say, and tried to remember some of the things she worked on with me. There is probably too much detail in this for her, but I am the boss of my painting now.
English is confusing. “A little painting” could mean I painted a little bit or that I painted a small painting. What if in this case it means I painted a little bit on 3 small paintings? And I painted a little bit on a (for me) huge painting?
Then you’d have today’s title and today’s post, that’s what.
This Oak Grove Bridge number umpty eleven needed a few more touches on the sides. Then I realized that it was going to be very difficult to photograph, so I started experimenting with settings on my PHD* camera. (Why did I give away my tripod? Because I didn’t anticipate needing it after 30 years without using it. Why did I give away my large camera? Because the lens ceased to be reliable.)
Two paintings of the same Mineral King scene, a 6×6″ and an 8×8″ will probably sell at an upcoming show at the Silver City Store. (June 29, thanks for asking).
Oops. I forgot to take photos of the stages of painting. If you are a regular reader, you’ve seen that before.
I also took some photos of the kittens, three of which remain at our address. KitCarson is settled very happily in his new home, where he will be loved beyond his wildest expectations, and Tigger, formerly known as Gilligan, is very happily settled in his new home, where he plans on becoming the boss of his people.
Alas, my PHD camera wasn’t up to the task of close up photos of these active little creatures.
After our road trip, I had a large family responsibility that kept me from painting. This had the effect of causing intense focus on the day that I was able to return to the easel. Have a look.
The painting was waiting on the easel with a note from my neighbor beneath it.
My neighbor left this note.
What is necessary?? Everything needs recoating and detailing.
So, I made a list.
The list was just a compilation of obvious tasks, but by having it in increments, I was able to be systematic and keep going, section by section. It was just a way of keeping my feet planted in front of the easel, because this was the only day I knew that would be available for painting in the foreseeable future.
The bridge, water, and “growies” on the right remain.
Hey! Are you Jackson or are you Georgia? (Remember, I went to Georgia via Jacksonville in April).
Gilligan and Ginger are both males, and now their names are Pippin and Lentz. It is still difficult to tell them apart.
Hey Central Calif. artist, stop playing with the kittens and get the bridge finished.
Stick a fork in it – it is done! Maybe. I might continue finding things to polish.
