Better Painting

After I took a plein air (on location) painting workshop, I tried to incorporate some new techniques into my normal studio method of painting. I didn’t like the results, and apparently, no one else did either, because those paintings didn’t sell.

This one in particular was troubling, because I thought the subject matter would overcome any difficulties.

After goofing off for weeks, I decided to warm up to painting by improving this little loser.

Better sky

Better snow

Better distant mountains and hills

Better Painting

 

 

When it is dry, I will scan it so we can all scratch our heads in bewilderment about how I could have ever thought the painting might sell in its earlier state. 

Guess I was blinded by love for the subject matter of Tulare County’s best features.

P.S. I didn’t mess with the orchards or wind machines because they look fine.

 

Six Meanderings

  1. Tulare County roads department is supposed to finish making the lower part of the Mineral King Road passable this week. Whether or not it will be open to the public is not known.
  2. When it is hot, the cats lie on the concrete of the front porch.
  3. Front to back: Pippin, Jackson (whose tail is always up), Tucker.
  4. When the heat backs off a bit, I hope to return to this painting. Yeah, yeah, I could use the swamp cooler, but you may have noticed that I’d rather be gardening. When I actually do work on it, you will get to see some photos.
  5. This place has the most beautiful views of Moro Rock and Alta Peak.
    6. So does this place:

It is good to live in Tulare County this time of year (but remember, you don’t want to move here because often we have terrible air, we are all fat and undereducated, and there is no Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods.)

Why I Almost Fell Asleep

I almost fell asleep at my drawing table one afternoon because:

I got up really early to go walking.

Here is the lower Salt Creek crossing on the BLM land; I turned around here.

It was so beautiful out, not hot yet, and I was moving enough for the mosquitos to not catch me.

There are a few Farewell-to-Spring flowers alongside the road, along with Common Madia, and some Elegant Clarkia. (Just practicing the names so I don’t forget; only the Farewell-to-Spring show in this picture.)

We went to see the river.

Trail Guy and I walked to see the river, which is flowing fast and full.

The March floods took away the measuring stick. Since I didn’t know what those increments actually referred to, I don’t miss it. Yes, feet, but so often the river wasn’t touching the stick at all, and it still had measurable water in it, so go figure. . .

The buckeye are in bloom.

Rocks.

And then we moved a pile of heavy rocks. No photos.

And that’s why I almost fell asleep drawing for fun.

 

 

How I Finished the Oil Painting Commission

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The large oil painting commission has taken quite a bit of thought and time. It feels very important to make it the best I possibly can. This is difficult for a non-perfectionist, whose main drive is to complete projects rather than do things perfectly. However, as a grownup, I am capable of overcoming my natural bent when it is the right thing to do.

I photographed the painting while it was upside down on the easel.

Then I flipped and cropped the photo, enlarged it to fill my computer screen, and studied it.

This is a weird phenomenon, one observed and used by my drawing students and me. Things often look fine until you see a photograph on a phone, camera, or computer screen. Suddenly the flaws appear.

The result of my study session is a red oval around each part that didn’t look quite right.

Then I mixed up the right colors and began making minuscule corrections. My plan was to photograph the corrections for you, but all wet paint was shiny and looked terrible in the photos. So, never mind that plan.

I lifted it off the easel to sign it and saw that the bottom looked terrible.

Then I looked out the painting workshop door and felt happy in spite of the little hitch in my git-along.

 

Here it is on the easel, ready for the official photograph. In spite of looking tiny in this setting, it is way too big for my scanner.

Wait! You haven’t seen the edges yet!

Finally, paint the bottom of the canvas, and the painting is finished. (Still wet)

I think you need to see it in person to truly appreciate this commissioned oil painting of my current favorite scene of Tulare County to paint for the very patient and accommodating Mr. Customer.

 

Lunch on Rocky Hill

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Rocky Hill is private land, in the hands of several people. One of those people is a friend, and she arranged for us to go to the very top. I had asked her if we could have permission to climb it with The Farmer and Hiking Buddy, and she said she has access to the top and can take people, and yes, she would love to take us up. Then Tulare County had a flood.

After things settled down from the flood, we learned of a tour to see the pictographs on Rocky Hill. Our friend was part of the tour, and she suggested that we go to the top for lunch after the tour. You betcha!

Get this: there is a paved road to the very top of this big rocky hill, and by “big” I mean 5 miles in circumference and 3 miles in diameter (not sure where that got measured). Friend has a key, of course, and we loaded up chairs, a table, lunch, and ourselves, and headed up. And up. And up some more. 2.4 miles, specifically.

Friend had laughed to herself when I asked if we could climb it. She later told me she wasn’t having any part of climbing but was happy to drive up with us. 

It was so very very perfect. Very very very perfect. A perfect way to spend the afternoon. Perfection.

Shut up, Central California Artist and show some photographs!

At the base—the hill sloping into the frame on the right is Rocky Hill.

That blue line is the Friant-Kern Canal. The wildflowers are mustard.

This is looking west.

And this is the unparalleled view of the Sierra. (Lots of people say “the sierras”, but it is the Sierra Nevada Mountains; thus “the Sierra” is the correct shortened term. You’re welcome. P.S. My dad taught me that.)

The tiny blue piece of water is actually called “Hamilton Lake”, and only appears in wet years.

The creek in the distance is Yokohl Creek, which did some real damage during the flood. People used to be able to remove sand from beneath the bridge, but some other people made them stop (for very petty reasons). Since then, the sand has piled deeper beneath the bridge and as a result, the creek flows very close to the underside of the bridge, which means debris builds up quickly during high water and then the water finds its way around the bridge, washing out the approach. Water always finds its way. (Ever heard of “unintended consequences”?) 

The cattle were curious, as cattle can be. (Remember this? – scroll down to see)

Friend provided an excellent picnic lunch, so very generous, oh so good.

Through this tree is a black cow fixin’ to deliver a calf soon.

This was the only larkspur we saw.

What a perfect day! Thank you, Friend, for sharing your beautiful piece of Exeter and your heritage with us (and lunch!)

 

A Day on Rocky Hill

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Rocky Hill is on the edge of Exeter, California, in Tulare County, a well-known, well-loved landmark. It is the only convenient non-flat place to walk, run, or bikeride in the area, and there is a perpetual stream of foot and bicycle traffic up the road. The entire hill is private property, so all the activity takes place on the county road that goes over the saddle between Badger Hill and Rocky Hill.

Rocky Hill has many many Indian pictographs (and lest you get your knickers in a twist about “Indians”, the Native Americans I know prefer to be referred to as “Indians”). On the south side of the hill, 30 acres belong to a conservancy, and occasionally there are tours to view the pictographs. We had the privilege of participating in a tour on last Thursday.

Alas, it is forbidden to post photos of the pictographs on the interwebs. So, you get to see some scenery instead.

Rocky Hill is very rocky. It could be called Boulder Hill.

These are not pictographs; they are mortars, so I am showing you. (so there)

This is the fruit of a wild cucumber. The seeds provided the binders for the pigment used to paint on the rocks.

Lichen isn’t paintings so I photographed it.

Clover. I love wildflowers.(Did you know that?)

Boulders.

The view of Moses Mountain distracted me from the paintings.

The Farmer and Trail Guy were good listeners. Or maybe they were wondering when we could go eat lunch. We are not used to traveling in a pack or being told to stay together. Hiking Buddy was there too, along with other people we know and a few we did not.

I liked this view out from one of the caves we entered.

And then it was time for lunch, which was a private party that I’ll tell you about tomorrow.

 

Early Morning Walk in Three Rivers

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This stunningly beautiful spring in Three Rivers isn’t over yet. We’ve had no hot days, and although it might have been warm enough one day for the rattlesnakes to emerge, I haven’t seen any or heard any reports. So, instead of blathering on about using pencils, oil paint and murals to make art that you can understand of places and things you love for prices that won’t scare you, let’s go on another walk. (See how I did that?)

This is BLM (Bureau of Land Management) property about a mile above my house. Because the two footbridges washed out, there isn’t much traffic up there, which makes it the way I remember it before people started slapping it all over the interwebs and turning it into a popular place. (Mine, mine, all mine!)

Back along the road, the brodiaea were thick. These are also called “wild hyacinth” and “blue dicks”.

These are a miniature version of lupine. They look like Texas bluebonnets which are just a variety of lupine.

This one is in my yard: fiesta flower.

A resident of Tulare County might wonder why one remains here, with all the smog, “nothing to do”, high unemployment, high welfare, low education, fat people, high teen pregnancy, lack of a Trader Joe’s. However, if one is in Three Rivers in the spring after a wet winter, one might wonder why more people don’t live here.

Don’t move here, okay? You will hate it, especially in the summer. On the other hand, if you buy a house here, please do move here because there are more than enough vacation rentals in town.

Now, I might need to go pull some weeds.

Three Versions of the Favorite Scene

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Version One

Mr. Customer gave me permission to show his 12×36″ commissioned oil painting in progress on the blog.

Version Two

This 10×20″ oil painting has been hanging around (literally), waiting its turn at the easel. It is just part of the series I began back in February to build up the inventory of my favorite subject in a variety of sizes and shapes.

Hmmm, I think I may have overdone the size exaggeration of Castle Rocks.

Version Three

This 18×36″ oil painting is one that is destined to hang in the dining area of my house, IF I ever complete it and IF it doesn’t sell (because I can always paint another one).

Thus we conclude eensy progress on three oil paintings of the best things about living in Tulare County in the spring, after a wet winter, when there is snow on the mountains, fruit on the trees, green on the hills, and gratitude and happiness in my heart.

Two Large (Not Too Large)

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Large One

Remember this mess?

It’s getting incrementally better.

It seems as if the paint dries more slowly on Masonite board than on canvas. Of course, that could be the result of ongoing winterlike weather.

Large Two

What is this elongated canvas for??

It is for the sketch on the bottom!

Mr. Customer has a memory of seeing snow covered Sierra from Highway 198 on a brilliant day in January of 1969, a year similar to this year in precipitation amounts. We have been exchanging photographs and discussing ideas for several months, and he has decided on a 12×36″ painting. It is a pleasure to be painting more of my favorite scenery, the quintessential* Tulare County scene, for someone who appreciates it as much as I do!

*purest, most characteristic, ultimate

Walk on the Mineral King Road

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This is your photojournalist reporting in from an excursion taken today, Saturday, March 18, 2023. Trail Guy, The Farmer, and I drove about 4 miles up the Mineral King road, then continued on foot. There will be many many photos (I took 92 but will only show you 47—you are welcome), and a little explanation or commentary.

The Road Closed sign is barely visible here below Mile 4.

A friend was doing a similar excursion and began the same time we did. Trail Guy advised him to climb up to the flume for easier walking, because his destination was farther up the road than ours.

Common sight.

Ho-hum, another big rock.

Mud, road a little bit gone.

And yet another rock.

And another chunk gone.

Wait, are you telling me we could have driven another 1/2 mile up?? Apparently so.

Whoa. This is the big washout. I bet Mineral King folks will forever refer to this as Washout Corner, or Washout Canyon.

We had a little bit of boulder scrambling to do.

Then some water to cross.

Looking back at the mess.

About 1/2 mile farther up from the mess.

Standard mud-on-road.

Oh-oh. Are we finished? The road certainly is. This is at Skyhook.

Nope, we are not done. The Farmer scrambled up the bank to the flume, pronounced it doable, and we followed. 

Our friend caught up with us on the flume, and we pulled aside to let him pass because he was on a mission to check on a man who lives farther up the road. We were just ogling, on a mission to see things.

We climbed down.

And headed down a paved road to the real road…

…only to discover we were on the uphill side of Skyhook. The flow went right through the center of the property.

I want to go to the bridge.

In the days before the flood, this would have been considered a disaster. Now, it’s merely another blip on the screen of the Winter of Water.

Bear Canyon survived. It appears to be abandoned, so even if it got washed away, no one would care. (what a waste)

Another muddy section.

And yet another one. I waded through this one in barefeet. 

By the time I got to this muddy mess, I just walked through in my trusty hiking Crocs.

Such a beautiful flow of water in this canyon after too many dry years.

MY FAVORITE BRIDGE IS FINE!!

Rocks, mud, no big deal.

Happy Centennial, Oak Grove Bridge!

Looking upstream.

Looking downstream.

Just looking.

And looking.

Time to turn around and head back to the pick-em-up truck. 

Whoa. Is this a new disaster waiting to happen to the flume just below the bridge? Or are we seeing with new eyes, filtered for impending doom?

Here’s the abandoned Bear Canyon.

Climbing up to the flume just above Skyhook.

I really like walking the flume. Not supposed to do it.

Our friend told us that the flume had blown apart or been smashed by a tree, so he had to do some scrambling and crawling. We got to this yellow tape, and climbed down the steps to the access road.

This is the access road onto the flume, opposite the very wide spot in the road below the bridge.

We walked back without incident, happy to be alive, thankful for rain, thankful to be able to walk 5 miles, thankful for springtime, thankful for friendship, just thankful.

And looking forward to seeing repairs by the Tulare County Roads Department. But I bet the people at Skyhook and those on above are looking forward to that road work even more than we are.

Thanks for coming with me on this tour. Batten the hatches, because there is another storm coming our way tomorrow.