Category: Thoughts

Things I’m learning in Artworld.

From Dreary and Cold comes Bright and Cheerful

It was a very busy weekend. The opening at Main Gallery was very very well attended – it was hot, crowded, noisy and exciting. First Saturday in Three Rivers was also exciting – I got blown away! Well, almost. Don, Paula, Leslie, Wendy and Kristi all came to my rescue and helped me secure my stuff. In addition, several paintings sold! Today is dreary and cold. Our propane tank is empty and the pilot lights in the workshop and studio are not lit. There is a fire in the woodstove in the house, and I have a laptop. Instead of using the excuse of cold and dark so I can justify sitting around and knitting, I have spent a large portion of the day learning about self-publishing, marketing, art business and self-promotion. I’m hoping the phone isn’t ringing off the hook in the studio (Wait a minute – I’m hoping it is and that the answering machine is full!!) and I’m still not convinced that Facebook is for me, but my excitement over writing, drawing and publishing a new book or two is growing! More will be revealed. . . or not, depending on how the ideas mature. Here, let’s look at something bright and cheerful:

Persimmon Leaf, 6×6″, oil on wrapped canvas, $40

Black Oak Leaf, 6×6″, oil on wrapped canvas, $40

Chinese Pistache Leaf, 6×6″, oil on wrapped canvas, $40

Style

Been thinking about this subject lately. A month or so ago, I showed a few of my paintings to a gallery owner. For the first time in my painting career, I was told that my paintings don’t have enough detail, that they look as if done plein air. That is French lingo for on site, which translates into “I’m painting as fast as possible because the light won’t hold still and I can’t possibly be careful at this crazy pace”. Exclamation of Surprise! I LOVE detail! I am a pencil artist, first, last, always! Can’t help it – pencil and the detail possible with that humble instrument have held my attention since 6th grade. So, I don’t have enough detail, eh? Here is my conclusion: my style is still sort of mushy. I don’t mean my paintings are mushy, but that I haven’t settled on the best way to paint. By “best”, I don’t mean best selling, most award-winning, or if I were in school, the highest grade grabbing style. The evaluation and valuation of art is very subjective, and “best” is defined by the viewer, whether a judge, a gallery owner, the artist, or most importantly to me, a customer. As I achieve greater proficiency with paint, brushes, and canvas, I’m hoping that my true style emerges. It will be defined by several things – the subject matter, the level of detail, the way I use light and color, the texture of the paint. My goal is this: to consistently create the most consistently beautiful paintings . Yes, consistent – constant, regular, uniform, steady, undeviating, dependable, reliable. Why? So that people can always recognize my work as mine!

oil paintings

Labor Day Weekend

Turns out the Park Service granted permission for the show, but didn’t convey the message until I was already off in the Land of No Electricity for the weekend. Hmmm, good or bad? A little of both, but a great weekend was had by all (even those of us who made no $$) Michael and I hiked to the Empire Mine area to return something that was borrowed. We were just finished with the very steep first 1/4 mile of the trail when I heard an exclamation of dismay from my hubby. I knew instantly that he had forgotten something, so I simply responded, “That’s okay, I’ll just wait for you here.” You may recall that with me, waiting is rarely a problem.

Notice how nicely the colors blend with the sky and the green of the landscape.

When Michael came back with the borrowed object, we proceeded onward and upward. We followed the cable and stanchions of the tram line that carried ore buckets during the mining days in Mineral King.

The borrowed object was returned, but this time wasn’t placed in full view as it had been originally found.

We visited the bull wheel at the upper end of the tramline.

Michael explained how it worked – I understood most of it, and appreciated the history lesson.

Would you believe there was a road up there?? I wouldn’t either, if I hadn’t seen and photographed it myself!

This is the remains of the tram tender’s cabin, fully visible from the trail as one heads down (if the light is right and the hiker is paying attention)

Grandma, what were you thinking??

Grandma’s family had to cross this creek (called a “branch” in the local venacular) in order to reach their home. Mom and I were warned not to try to see the site (home was burned by vandals quite awhile ago) because of snakes. Creepy, hunh?

Instead of contending with snakes, we trespassed ever so slightly on the neighboring property. I just wanted to get a feel of my G’ma’s growing up life. After seeing the incredible natural beauty and rural location, it just boggles my mind that she spent the bulk of her 94 years in Orange County, California! What were you thinking, Grandma? How could you leave this place?? Were you homesick? Were you just following your husband? Did you get stuck in a rut in the urban world? Did you consider it a groove rather than a rut, which makes for smoother traveling? (a description from my other grandmother)

Blowing Rock North Carolina

Still more about North Carolina

I am going back to the mural on August 16, I promise! Meanwhile, I am still smitten with North Carolina and just have to share some of it with you.

This is the lovely Moses Cone house, also known as “Flat Top Manor”.

Blowing Rock North Carolina

More North Carolina photos

Rather than invade the privacy of my newly met distant relatives, I will show you some of my photos from the other parts of my trip.

I love stone structures!

This was my only view of the blue ridges of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

This is the church where the family reunions used to be. It has no air-conditioning, so now the family reunites in other places. Guess the younger folks aren’t quite as tough as Grandma’s generation. Grandma was very tough, and I aspire to be like her in that area!

blowing rock Blowing Rock North Carolina

More about all grown up

While in NC, Mom and I took the back road to the family reunion. I wanted to see the family cemetery, the site where Grandma grew up, the church where the reunions used to happen and any other sight that seemed connected to Mom’s family. We were tootling along a country road, and suddenly I said “WHOA! Did you see that??” It was a house that definitely fit the description of “all grown up” (this was before I met Cousin Don and he used that expression). Check this out:

Imagine my surprise when Mom exclaimed, “That was Aunt Marticia’s house!”

The satellite dish tells me it was probably abandoned in the 1980s.

Here is another way things become “all grown up” in the south:

Kudzu!!

Blowing Rock North Carolina

All grown up

While at the family reunion in North Carolina, I had a most interesting conversation with Cousin Don. He said his dad, Uncle Lank (derived from Langston), managed apple orchards at the Moses Cone estate. It is now a part of the Blue Ridge Parkway National Park (or is it a monument?). There are miles of trails that used to be carriage roads. Cousin Don told me the apple orchards aren’t there any more and that it is “all grown up” so one can’t recognize where the orchards used to be. I thought about it, and asked him what he meant by “all grown up”. He said that the orchards had reverted to the native trees and other growth. I told him that “all grown up” in California means there is now a subdivision or a mall or a freeway where an orchard used to be. Isn’t North Carolina refreshing?? Here is one of the apple barns where Uncle Lank worked:

(told you it was foggy!)

blowing rock Blowing Rock North Carolina

Family Cemetery

Mom and I were creeping down a steep gravel road in a rented car in the fog. I love to explore and see new things, but seeing wasn’t easy in that fog. As we worked our way down off the “mountain” (I am sorry for being such a California mountain snob), I said “grassy clearing up ahead”. Mom said “That’s the cemetery!” Sure enough, it was. I have a sense of awe for a family that maintains and uses its own private cemetery. It seems so personal and honoring to the deceased family members. Have a look at the one in my family:

Okay, I admit. We returned another day for better photos.

This is the centerpiece headstone. The other side has Martha Bob’s name, my knitting-while-reading great-grandmother, AKA “Granny” to her many grandchildren.

One of Martha Bob’s ancestors, her namesake, my Mom.

Blowing Rock North Carolina

I am not a freak

Isn’t that a nice feeling? You go along in life, wondering why you are the way you are, wondering if anyone else has ever done the same things, wondering if you will ever meet anyone else who gets you. . . not that I care about other people’s opinions, but sometimes it does get lonely being so highly individualized. So, there I was in North Carolina, just finding my way along, and learning about family when my Mom told me that my great-grandmother, Martha Bob, KNIT AND READ AT THE SAME TIME!!! This was a huge revelation, an AHA moment, a light going off in my head. I realized at that very moment, if I am weird, it is an inherited trait. If I am special, it is in my genes. All this, and Cousin Hazel has a knitting shop too!