New Mural at Mooney Grove Park

About two and a half years ago, I worked on several murals on the outside of the Tulare County Museum at Mooney Grove Park on the south side of Visalia, California. Each day when I finished painting, I walked around that giant park of a zillion trees. As a muralist, I am always aware of blank walls, and I counted 7 concrete block restrooms, all painted white, all with multiple walls screaming for murals.

I photographed several of the buildings, photoshopped some of my paintings onto the plain buildings, then wrote up a proposal to present to a committee that meets 4 times a year. I also wrote a letter and asked to be on the next meeting’s agenda.

Then, The Plague struck. No response to anything I requested, no followup, nothing.

A few months ago, the Arts Consortium invited artists to submit five designs apiece, each proportioned to fit a 4×8′ horizontal mural. Five artists would be selected to paint a mural on a restroom. I submitted 5 ideas, and included my photoshopped versions for their visualizing convenience. (Always make it easy for the customer!)

Eventually, I got a congratulatory email saying my painting of the North Fork had been selected for one of the restrooms. Not my favorite, but I have painted and sold this scene about three times, so it seemed like a good candidate for a juried situation.

Next, I got instructions that all the muralists would be painting their restrooms on the same weekend, from a Friday through a Monday, and would be finished on that Monday, no exceptions, so there. 

I looked at the weather, saw that Friday would be 104, contacted the nice man at the Arts Consortium and asked for a postponement or to be fired.

Being reasonable, he agreed that paint dries too fast in those conditions and went to the committee making the decisions. 

We were then allowed to pick our own four day block to paint, and I chose September 21-24.

The forms began flying back and forth, along with a visual to remind me which painting had been selected, and a photo of it on “my” restroom wall.

Excuse me??

All-righty-then! So, I will be painting Yokohl Creek, which might indeed be my favorite. (GREEN!!)

Supposed to begin tomorrow, but many of the project details have been fluid, so time will tell. . .

Hot Day in the Orange Grove

If you can’t see the photos, go here: cabinart.net/blog. Just another hot day at the easel, painting another orange grove.

Is it an “orange grove” or an “orange orchard”? We tend to call it “orange grove” or “orchard”. Some people call it a “ranch”, but I have yet to see any cattle in an orange grove. 

Commissioned Oil Painting

The swamp cooler kept me at the easel working on this commissioned oil painting until early evening. Growing leaves takes some time, particularly on a 16×20″ custom oil painting.


Reference Photos

In spite of being a familiar subject to paint, the piece is a challenge due to the melding of multiple scenes in multiple lights with multiple sizes and perspectives. My goal is consistency, believability, and of course, beauty. Always beauty, along with as close I can get to truth while fabricating the scene.

Here are a few of the dozen or so photos that I referred to. (Not showing the children because I respect people’s privacy here on the World Wide Web).

I love this photo. If I could have figured out how to put the children in this one and have the sizes all make sense AND be large enough to paint some detail, I would have used this one.

The painting still needs orange blossoms, and might need a wind machine. And because I believe it depicts the best part of Tulare County*, I will probably keep polishing it, drawing with my paintbrush, not wanting to quit.

Good thing there isn’t a deadline.

*I asked Ecosia (a new-to-me search engine instead of DuckDuckGo) to find me information on “the best of Tulare County” and it went to the Exeter Sun-Gazette, an article about Tulare County leading the nation in illiteracy. Sigh.

 

 

Are You Drawing With Your Paintbrush Again?

If you read this blog through an email subscription on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

Yes, I am drawing with my paintbrush again. Paintbrushes, and the smallest I can find, treating them as if they are pencils. Wet flexible pencils are not as effective as graphite pencils, but I think this painting is getting better as a result of all this teensy work.

Remember this?

The first item of business was to complete the distant hills and grove.

Next, instead of painting around the children, I dove into the minutiae, “minutiae” in terms of size, not in terms of importance.

Boy first, because as a righthanded artist, working from left to right lessens the risk of smearing wet paint.

Since the photo of the children was taken in a parking lot, it will be tricky to manage the light in a believable manner, and tricky to make believable shadows. First, though, we need believable children.

These kids are just so cute, both in person and on canvas.

Much work remains, and it will be thoroughly enjoyable as I pursue art of Tulare County, combining my favorite subject of citrus and the mountains with the challenge of believable little people.

Nine Things I Learned in June

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

  1. There is a new(ish?) company that makes an alternative to soda (“pop”, “soda pop”, or my favorite “sodie”). Olipop is very expensive, and after the sample pack arrives (not free samples but six each of 2 flavors for a total of $31.03 including shipping when I used the promocode POUROVER for 15% off), then I will tell you what I think. This sodie has 2 grams of sugar, fiber, probiotics, carbonation (that’s the “pop” part of the name), all made from good-for-you stuff. As a highly frugal person, this will be consumed as a treat, and water will continue to be my beverage of choice. And black coffee (with 70% chocolate dunked in it). And Dr. Pepper, which I probably will never consume again. Sigh. (If it tastes good, spit it out.)
  2. The grass in our one small remaining lawn might be Korean Lawn Grass, or Zoysia japonica. This is the third summer of not letting Trail Guy mow in case it will spread by seed, transplanting new clumps as I find them behind the house (23 years ago it was back there but got wrecked during our remodel), hand weeding, and using Miracle Grow to get it to thicken. 
  3. No matter how many wonderful visits I make to Hume Lake, it never ceases to amaze me that most of the guests there are more tuned in to relationships than the natural world around them. They love the location but give me the side-eye when I go all nuts about a flower or a tree. Lovely people, lovely place, so different from Mineral King, except that cabin communities do share many common cultural practices. (Here are three posts from 2018 about cabin communities: Cabin Thoughts, Cabin Thoughts Part 2, Cabin Thoughts Part 3.)
  4. I discovered a redwood tree (Sequoia gigantea) at Hume Lake for the first time! How did I never notice this before? The elevation there is 5200′; I think most sequoias grow at around 6000′. Wait, The Duck just told me they grow from 4600′ to 6600′ in elevation. This tree was such a surprise to me that it took me awhile to decide that it actually is a redwood. It is so hard to tell when the needles are too far away to see, and when one is confused about the trees’ preferred elevations—those are my excuses. After I took this photo, I KNEW it was a redwood, because I have drawn and painted that kind of bark so many times. Alas, why did I have to see it on a screen to know? I need to get out more.
  5. Salt & Light, or Reading Rabbit, oil on board, 11×14″, Not for sale
    I read a fabulous book called The Ride of Her Life, by Elizabeth Letts. I read a tremendous amount of books and rarely post about them. This one is exceptional, so you get to look it up. Annie Wilkins rode her horse from Maine to California in 1954. She stayed in Tulare for awhile! (The name of my county, but not the county seat, oddly enough.)
  6. Many subscribers to my blog cannot see the photos in the email with the day’s post. Lots of thought has gone into (not) solving the problem, so I finally decided to add this paragraph to the beginning of each post: “If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.” I wonder if anyone will click through to the internet.
  7. Slowly, slowly, I am learning to stand up for my work. If a customer wants an addition after the job is bid, it is called a “change order”, and it is fine to state it as such. If a customer wants something that goes against my better judgement, it is fine to state that and present the reasons. I don’t know why this is so difficult; in most parts of my life I am not a shrinking violet, so why am I like that in my business? (Prolly need counseling.)
  8. There is an excellent art museum in Fresno, appropriately named the Fresno Art Museum. It has multiple exhibits, an auditorium, and a gift shop, along with other things. How did I not know of this place, built the year after I was born?? I went to a “musical memoir” there, the entire presentation created by a dear friend from childhood. She wrote the music, the lyrics, all the dialogue, figured out the whole thing, and performed it, along with 4 others who had some parts too. It was simply amazing (an overused word that actually fits here)!
  9. This lesson was a reinforcement rather than something new: it is great fun to do little enhancements to my neighborhood. It is my hope that reading all the words on this sign will cause people to slow down and think.* Good, but not good enough to spend that much money on something so unnecessary.

Familiarity Breeds Comfort

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

“Familiarity breeds contempt” in some cases; in the context of my oil painting endeavors, familiarity breeds comfort. “Sawtooth Near Sunnypoint #8” is signed, sealed, and delivered, another commissioned oil painting in the archives.

This means I can move into another comforting subject, one that I love to paint, although this one has its own challenges. This oil painting commission came with much freedom. The customer didn’t care what orchard as long as it is oranges, wasn’t concerned about the foothills, and after much conversation (“Really, you must care about something specific here!”), he decided that Sawtooth and Homer’s Nose made the most sense for the visible peaks. His focus is the children, and he provided good photos.

If I were a loosey-goosey painter, this would be close to finished. Alas, I am a painter who loves detail and when this dries, I will begin drawing with my paintbrushes on this Tulare County classic view.

 

A New Oil Commission

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

Custom art, or “commission” work might be the most satisfying piece of my business. I am painting something that someone really wants, painting with confidence that it will be loved, and confidence that it will be sold. 

Artists can be so insecure. We pour ourselves onto paper or canvas, creating something that really lights our fire, getting lost in the process, and then . . . what? Nothing happens.

So, when I get a commission, particularly one of something that I am familiar with (orange groves, sequoia trees, Sawtooth, cabins, or anything Mineral King), it is a real pleasure to paint.

Beginnings

The customers chose 16×20″. I primed the canvas, assigned an inventory number, and wired the back. Pippin hung around, but wasn’t interested in the details. (And the vase of lemon geranium may have repelled the mosquitos.)

It was near the end of the day, and I was in danger of falling into Idiotville, where Stupid, Sloppy, and Careless reside, so I set it aside for the day.

And this is how it looked after the next painting session:

That again? 

Yeppers, this time in oil paint instead of pencil. Not sisters this time—a brother and a sister, different grove. And no deadline, so I will spend oodles of time make this piece of Tulare County art perfect.

Oodles, I said.

Maybe, Maybe Not

When I look at a finished painting in person, it seems truly finished. This painting signifies the best of Tulare County to me, and I am not always objective.

However, when I look at a photograph of the painting on my screen, sometimes things appear that weren’t all that noticeable in person. 

Here is a progression of the untitled painting that is finished, or maybe not.

Tuesday morning overview.

Tuesday morning lower right corner, unfinished.

Wednesday morning lower right corner, finished (but in shade so hard to tell what is what).

May I be finished now? Better put it in the sunshine for a truer color photo.

Now may I sign it, and then paint the edges? 

Maybe, maybe not. Better let it mull a bit, study, scrutinize, put on my truth glasses (just a figure of speech) and try to be objective.

Or maybe I should show the customers and see if they think I am finished.

Maybe, maybe not. 

Two Commissions

This commission is finished, except for taking a photograph that doesn’t have weird shiny spots.

This one is not finished. I love working on this. It’s all I want to paint these days. I want to keep it. I want to paint it again bigger. 

STOP IT. This is a commissioned oil painting, and it belongs to someone else. You can paint another for yourself later.

Each time I work on this, the plan is to keep moving ahead. Instead, I keep fixing parts that I thought were finished.

Could it be that I don’t want to finish working on my current favorite subject?

Mired in Detail

After spending a good chunk of an afternoon drawing with my paintbrush, perfecting the detail on the 50th Anniversary Floral Bouquet oil painting, I had a real hankering to return to the commissioned oil painting of my favorite subject. “Slamming out” some quick small paintings for the Redbud Festival just wasn’t lighting my candle.

This painting was calling my name.

I began texturing the distant hills. 

Then I built a few roads.

If this wasn’t a commissioned piece, it would go in my dining room. I can paint another for myself, but there is enough other (PAYING) work that it is not a priority. 

So, I will enjoy the process of being mired in detail for someone else’s happiness. Snow, GREEN, poppies, CITRUS. . . the very best that Tulare County has to offer. (But remember, we have bad air, high unemployment, diabetes, teen pregnancies, high welfare, no Trader Joe’s or Whole Paycheck grocery stores, and a severe lack of education. Just sayin’ in case you were thinking of bringing some big city values to our little piece of California’s flyover country.)

Blogiversary Bonus

What is a blog? It is a web log, an online journal, shortened to blog. 

What is a blogiversary? It is blog anniversary.

Yesterday was my 12th blogiversary. That is 12 years of posting 5 days a week about the business of art, life in Three Rivers/rural Tulare County, peculiar sights, a (rare) visit to another place, things I learn, and always, Mineral King. That is approximately 3,350 posts.

Today I am just giving you some photographs of beautiful things in my little world. It has nothing to do with the business of art, other than an awareness of beauty which I believe is the basis of good art (“good” as I define the word).

 

Thank you for hanging with me through the years, or thank you for joining up somewhere along the way.