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.
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.
Sometimes I see a beautiful scene that just can’t be captured with a single photograph. The light is wrong so the colors come out weird, or there are branches obstructing important views. So, I take as many photos as possible and then put them together in a rough manner using Photoshop Junior. (Photoshop Elements is the “easy version”, in case you are wondering what Photoshop Junior is.)
One spring morning last year, my neighbor and I were walking on a trail above our houses in Three Rivers. I knew it had the makings of a nice painting, but I only had the inferior camera on my phone, and the light was quite low.
I took all these photos anyway. Each one had something going for it, and I hoped that I could patch them together to capture the moment in a believable manner.
Comb Rocks shows well.strong color on distant hillsnice trailComb Rocksvisible flowers different exposure, more flowers
After putzing around on Photoshop Junior, I decided that a square format looked best. Using Photoshop is the modern version of doing a “thumbnail sketch”, something art teachers always insisted on but never explained properly (like much of what was required in art classes, heavy sigh.) It is a way to see if all the elements look good together, are the right sizes and in the right places.
This is more of how I want it to look, but the trail is going the wrong direction.
I made the distant hills larger, emphasized the colors, made sure the hills included the landmark Comb Rocks, placed the trail where I wanted, and filled the foreground with wildflowers.
I finally got the photos to fit together in the best possible way. Here is the final painting, still untitled.
Now that’s what I’m talking about! I wonder why it took me so many years to learn to use my computer this way. Must be slow on the uptake. . . certainly not an early adopter of tech. . . plodding. . .the way I’ve always done it.
I have oil paintings at every stage right now. All depict Tulare County places, because that is where your Central California artist resides. She is a Tulare County artist, perhaps more accurately known as a “regionalist from Quaintsville”.
Finished, scanned, ready to show and sell:
Big Oak, 11×14″
Olive Grove, 10×10″
Finished, changed my mind, made it better, now drying again:
BeforeAfter
Hard to compare fairly when the coloring is so different.
Barely begun:
Sold:
Sold, but I forgot to sign it, so I delivered it with a wet signature.
Newly painted to replace the sold poppies:
This one was photographed at the end of the day in low light as it was getting transported to the house for drying.
Seeing a collection of paintings that has sold provides fuel to keep me painting during a season of slow sales. This is a season of producing; November-December was a season of selling.
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.)
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.)
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.
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.
My drawing of tomatoes is completed. Carrie Lewis asked for a paragraph of 100 words or less to accompany the drawing. Here is what I submitted.
Gardening feels like a war. We planted many tomatoes in an enclosed area, protected underneath from gophers, on all sides from deer, and over the top from birds*. We faithfully watered and fertilized all summer. Finally, in mid-October, we began getting tiny cherry tomatoes, many no more than 1/2” in diameter. Every tomato felt like a victory, so I took photos of them as proof that we had actually grown some food.
This was not for a competition. It is just a submission to Carrie’s magazine (digital rather than print) called CP Magic, which is all about colored pencil. Colored pencil is not my main medium, as you know, but Carrie is a friend, and I wanted to participate simply because sometimes it is fun to try different things.
*After I wrote this, I realized that we had left the tomatoes exposed to the birds. I meant to put mesh on top but just never got to it.
Happy Birthday, Trail Guy! (all those years are also a victory)
