This year’s calendar is photographs of Mineral King from the odd and beautiful summer of 2023.
“Odd” because the damaged road limited access to only a handful of intrepid cabin folks, but not the public. (Stay safe, all y’all, but you cabin folks are on your own.)
“Beautiful” because the winter had been phenomenal, with water running in every possible drainage and going strong most of the summer, the tallest grasses in memory, abundant wildflowers, and greenery through September.
I chose to not post about Mineral King in the summer because it just seemed wrong to rub people’s noses into the fact that it was gorgeous but inaccessible.
When it was time to choose the calendar theme, I decided to share the beauty that many people missed. Good idea? Bad idea? Everything is a mixed bag.
As the back of the calendar explains, seeing Mineral King at its most beautiful reminds us all that even when we can’t get there, this beloved place endures.
The calendar is $20 (including tax), plus $3 shipping for one, $4 for two, and $7 for three (shipped in 2 separate packages). If that sounds pricey, be thankful that I am not charging for those overpriced cardboard mailers, and that I am not charging the entire mailing price. Just wanted you to know this, in case you were thinking of making do in 2024 with one of those freebie calendars that advertise a business or show you places that you will probably never see.
There are several ways to get a Mineral King 2024 calendar:
The ArtSpeak word for slowly building paintings with layers is “glazing”. You’re welcome.
This might be finished. The photo on the left was taken in the afternoon; the one on the right was taken the next morning. I’m hard-pressed to tell you which is more accurate.
For several months, I had no work. Instead of worrying about it, I enjoyed guilt-free time at the cabin. Well, guilt-free except for the fact that the road was closed, and other people couldn’t enjoy Mineral King this past summer. Life is a series of good things and not-so-good things; we do our best with what we have been given. Or I do. Most of the time. I don’t know what you do. Maybe you just complain. . .
My point, and I do have one, is to show you that I did have a few sales. One must pay closer attention when times are a little hard, because the negatives are often much louder than the positives. Here are my positives from that slow period plus a couple of months beyond.
I am guessing on the titles and some of the sizes. Closies count. . .
It is time to do a few small paintings to sell at Kaweah Arts. The proprietor requested Sequoia trees and mountain ranges. I looked through my canvas sizes, looked through my photos and made some decisions. Inventory number, title, wire on the back, add to the inventory lists, crop and enhance the photos—all needs to happen before paint lands on the canvas.
Wait! This isn’t a Sequoia tree or a mountain range. What is it?
It is a scene I have wanted to paint for many years, but felt it was a bit too hard. This will be one of my long slow paintings, with many many layers. There is no deadline, and I want it to be Most Totally Excellent.
Okay, this is a standard 6×18″ painting of a big tree, AKA redwood, AKA Sequoia, formally known as Sequoia gigantea, not to be confused with the redwoods of northern California, called Sequoia sempervirens.
WHAT IS THIS???
This is a work in progress, a housewarming present for someone Very Important in my life. She showed me the pieces she has in her kitchen, and I was inspired to ask her what I could paint to add to the collection. (These might not be the actual pieces that she has, but hers are very similar to these.)
The sequoias and mountain range paintings can just hold their camels* for a little bit. I have some designing, improving, polishing, rearranging, composing ahead.
*Learned to say this while in Israel back in 2016 and decided it is more fun than horses.
I have a new friend. Krista Fulbright is an artist, working in watercolor. She moved to Exeter from Missouri (or “Missour-uh”, as another friend pronounces the state) a handful of years ago.
We met at an event at Cache, and I was struck by her sincere sweetness. Sounds corny, but I mean it.
She initiated contact, asking to get together for plein air painting. I told her honestly that I don’t like this activity very much, maybe because whenever I paint this way people ask if I am planning on finishing the painting. Sometimes they say, “That doesn’t look like your regular work”.
Anyway, we had a good conversation, and her response to my declining her invitation was to laugh and say that she understood. She said that we could probably find something else to do together, and I said I was looking forward to it.
We emailed, talked on the phone, texted, and eventually made a plan to get together. She was wondering about reproducing her art, and I offered to share my scanner and knowledge of Photoshop Junior. This resulted in a fun afternoon together in my studio.
As Krista figures out how to earn a living with her art, we discuss different aspects of this squishy and nebulous type of business. I’ve been doing this full-time for 30 years, but I still don’t know much. Things that used to work for me just don’t any more. . . print ads (where??), mailing out postcards (at 51¢ per card just for postage?), art festivals (most cancelled), printing/packaging/selling notecards (who writes anymore??), selling at gift shops (almost all now closed). . . times keep changing quickly. (Anyone read Who Moved My Cheese?)
Together, we explore ideas and share information. I haven’t had many artist friends who are seriously pursuing a career of art. I know a lot of artists, several in cities with large populations, some who rely solely on Fakebook, and many who are hobbyists, or dabblers. Krista is serious, focused, and relentless in improving both her skills and her business.
Krista’s website is https://fulbrightarts.com. Her work is realistic and tight, a style that suits me. It is a privilege to call this hardworking, talented lady my friend.
Sales of my art have declined. Is it the economy? I assume so, since sales are an economic transaction. The specific reasons are: one of my regular vendors was not open this past summer; another one relied on a now-closed adjoining restaurant for foot traffic; the third place relied on traffic to Sequoia National Park, which was closed until July 1.
What’s an artist to do?
Look for a new place to sell, of course.
St. Anthony’s Retreat asked for some of my paintings for their gift shop. This is close to home, a place where I have painted several murals, staffed by many friends, and is an active place in Three Rivers. It brings in people from all over the valley for various purposes, many of which are not actually Catholic. It is a beautiful place, very bucolic, and they have very good food too.
I worked with two friends there to decide what to put in the gift shop. This is what we chose:
2. . . . the murals at the giant Catholic church in Visalia? After 13 months of much wrangling, negotiating, emails, phone calls, designs, rewriting of proposals, and rebidding, I withdrew my proposals. They’ll have to find someone else for this. (I’d show you my designs, but I don’t want anyone to kipe them.)
3. . . . the mural for a county library, mentioned back in August of 2022? Nothing. It was promised to me, then silence. A call to artists went out, I submitted my designs (because it expanded from one wall to two walls), then silence. The deadline for a decision passed (May 31), and the silence continues.
4. . . .my overgrown unmowed lawn? After the 5th summer of not mowing, hand trimming, transplanting, and fertilizing, it is looking quite nice. Now that it is mowed, I can see the gaps, and next year I will continue to transplant clumps as I find them at the back of the house where there used to be lawn.
5. . . . my gardening efforts once I started using an expensive humus, Deer Out, and milorganite fertilizer? Things look moderately better, although not magnificent. (Let’s remain in Realville, people!) This is the herb garden, fenced against deer, many plants with underground baskets against gophers, very poor soil, direct hot sun in summer, and zero sun in winter.
Any questions?
Yesterday I mentioned several things that I have painted from Sequoia National Park. Want to see? Some have sold, and some are currently available. (Every once in awhile, I show items for sale because I am supposed to be running an art business here, not just chit-chatting to my friends.)
This oil painting of the river is inching forward. Remember this?
Here is a day of (interrupted*) painting in steps.
*Quickety trip to the next mural site to learn the best method to transfer pattern to wall; phone call to spray varnish manufacturer to ask how to deal with the continually clogging nozzle; writing an endorsement for my mechanic’s upcoming website; asking some friends to do the same; phone-tagging and texting to make an appointment to show my paintings to a new vendor; several long phone discussions attempting to keep the wheels on a project that seems to be circling the drain (that’s called a “mixed metaphor”); photographing and scanning completed paintings. . . all part of the business of art.