What is this mess?

When I paint commissions, I go through stages something like this:

  1. Not sure, but I will try
  2. Piece of cake
  3. What is this mess?
  4. What have I gotten myself into?
  5. I’ve got this.
  6. What is this mess?
  7. Who told me I could paint?
  8. Ooh, I love to draw with my paintbrush!
  9. What is this mess?
  10. Oh my goodness, I think I am going to finish soon!
  11. What is this mess?
  12. Make a harshly honest list and fix those things.
  13. Can’t find another thing to fix, better sign it and get it out of my face before I mess it up.

This was probably about step 8.

Then I hit step 9.

I painted for a morning, repairing all sorts of messes, drawing with my paintbrush. Can you see the improvements?

 

Now it might be at step #10.

It looks wrong in this light. But you can see that only a small portion in the lower right hand corner remains untouched. I might hit a couple more “What is this mess” stages. I went a little nutso trying to get the highway better, narrowing the driveway at the bottom, detailing the rows of citrus trees more, adding in a few more buildings and tightening up the ones that were there, and planting a couple of new groves. I did not darken the blue mountains but actually lightened them. However, this is not apparent in the poor light of early afternoon photography.

Then I had to quit because my friends were waiting for me to come over and make some more stepping stones.

More remains, but the fat lady will be warming up her vocal cords soon.

Variety in the Working Life of a Central California Artist

There you go, Search Engines. Hope you like that ridiculously long title.

I had a day of great variety, all of it interesting, all of it productive

  1. This book, Adventures in Boy Scouting, will soon be available as an ebook through Bookbaby. It took a lot of learning, and a lot of proofreading. The print version is available at the Three Rivers Mercantile, Three Rivers Historical Museum, and BookBaby.com. 
  2. After enjoying the nice fire in the house (in the wood stove—no need to be concerned) while proofreading (we had a few cold days), I moved to the painting workshop to do a bit of polishing on the Fiftieth Bouquet oil painting. “Polishing” here means making some small corrections. The roses, red bow, vase, coaster and background are not finished.
  3. I detailed the mountains and put a second layer on my favorite scene.

  4. Then I left the painting workshop and moved into the studio to finish a drawing. After scanning it, I sent it to the customer to get her approval before spray-fixing it and then adding color.

It was a good day of working on projects that are all presold. While it is fun to just paint and draw what I want, it is more satisfying to paint and draw for other people, particularly when they choose subjects that float my boat.

In case you have forgotten because I haven’t shouted this at you for awhile:

Using pencils, oil paint, and murals, I make art that you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

 

An Orange Grove in Oil Paint

Poppies and oranges and orange groves and poppy fields: that’s what I paint in the winter and spring. (Unless I am painting Sawtooth).

Remember this? It was on the easel until the poppies started selling like hotcakes.

I finished 6 new small oil paintings of poppies, and was so pleased to have paint in the right colors left on the palette to finish this painting.

It is signed, but you can’t really tell in the last photo. After it dries, I will photograph it in good light for you (and my website and portfolio and records, etc.)

This type of painting really says Tulare County to me. Now it needs a title.

 

Finding My Way Home

It feels as if I am finding my way back home in my art pursuits. Sales are encouraging, commissions are energizing, rain and snow is reassuring, and all of those things reignite my desire to paint, draw, and tell you about it.

We recently saw this oil painting:

It didn’t look right to me. The colors were wrong, and it needed orange blossoms. Back on the easel with you!

Better.

Painting oranges feels like coming home.

Not Boring To Me

I spent a day at the easels. To anyone else, it would probably be boring. There wasn’t anything really photo worthy, but I took 2 at the end of the day so you could see that I made progress.

Here it is in a list:

  1. I put a final layer on the Hume Lake ornaments, but only on the lake side. The photos looked very terrible. I didn’t even send them to the customer, because they were so non-representative of how cool these little things will be.
  2. When I walked back to the house, there were EIGHT deer on and around my little front lawn. Yes, EIGHT. I didn’t have my camera in my pocket.
  3. I worked very diligently on the 11×14 “In The Orchard II”. When it is drier, I will add a wind machine, more oranges, and orange blossoms.
  4. It was an easy transition to keep making oranges and leaves on the giant painting that probably won’t go in my dining room.

Are you yawning yet? It really was a wonderful day! Thank you for sticking with me to the end.

Still Painting as if I Have a Show Coming

Yesterday I told you to come back if you wanted to see what else I am working on. Glad you could make it. I hope you aren’t too bored with my repetitious subject matter.

But first, LOOK! It rained early in the morning, and we took a short walk here in Three Rivers to see shades of blue and hills that we hadn’t seen in weeks.

Back to work: this is large for me, 18×36″. Because it is my current favorite subject to see, experience, and paint, I decided to do this for my own dining room. Then, I got asked to do a solo show at Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery, and realized that the piece belongs in the show. 

This is at the stage where it feels too hard and as if I will NEVER finish.

However, I am an experienced oil painter and I know better than to listen to these feelings. Phooey to you, Pheelings.

There. Guess I told them.

Despite my sense of apprehension, this is coming along nicely, with more color and texture in the hills, a bit more detailing on the foreground tree, another layer on the distant groves, closer orchard and ground.

Because I plan to put this in the gallery, and because all pieces in the show must be for sale, I have two choices when it is finished: paint it again for myself when it sells, or price it at $10,000 so it won’t sell. Since I am a professional, not a hobbyist, I will simply price it in the normal fashion, based on size. I want to raise the price, because it will hurt a bit less to part with it if there are more pieces of green paper with dead presidents’ faces on them in exchange for the painting, but I will keep it at the standard price for this size BECAUSE:

I use pencil, OIL PAINT, and murals to make art people can understand, of places and things they love, for PRICES THAT WON’T SCARE THEM!

Excuse me for shouting. Sometimes I get a little overly enthusiastic about that tag line.

Painting as if I Have a Show Coming (Because I Do)

As the title states, I am painting as if I have a show coming, because I do. Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery, November and December, specific dates undetermined as of yet.

This one looks finished when viewed from the back of a fast horse. However, there are no horses allowed in the Courthouse Gallery, fast or slow. 

Therefore, I spent another morning on the 12×24″ oil painting, cleverly titled “Yokohl”.

Next, I rephotographed the 12×24″ oil painting with the not very original title of “Looking East II”. (Honestly, finding great titles is a challenge when I paint the same subjects multiple times.) The smoke was not very evident, so I was able to get a photo without a weird orange tint.

Next, I did a tiny bit of adjustments on the 12×24″ oil painting cleverly titled “Alta Alpenglow”. It might actually be “Alta Alpenglow” II or III or even IV, but I chosen not to count this particular view. Maybe instead of numbers, they could be Title Good, Title Better, and Title Best. But then what would I call #4?

But wait! There’s more! 

You’ll have to come back tomorrow.

On A Clear Day

First, something has gone wonky with my blog so the blog post title either doesn’t show at all or it is a little bit messed up.

“On a clear day” what? It certainly isn’t “you can see forever”. Last Wednesday, this is how things looked.

No, really, look! You can see the hills across the canyon, and the helicopters resumed flying to the fires.

This doesn’t qualify as a clear day in the olden days before wildfires ruled our corner of the world, but it qualifies as light enough to paint, and not smoky either, so I could paint with the doors opened up.

Remember this painting? I can’t even remember what I titled it anymore, but I do remember it is my favorite type of scene to paint, and that it was lacking wind machines, oranges, and a signature. We last saw it here on September 13.

Now it is completed.

Even with the doors open and a clear(ish) day, it doesn’t photograph all that well. How about if I prop it up on the ladder so you can further appreciate the completion?

Okay, standard disclaimer: it looks much better in person.

Next!Remember this? Of course not. Why would you? You last saw it on August 19.

Here I have begun adding sky, a color blue that I had almost forgotten to associate with looking up.

It now needs another coat, and then the detailing, my favorite part of drawing with my paintbrushes.

I wonder how Alta Peak and Moro Rock–wait! Moro Rock doesn’t really show in this painting because it doesn’t really show in the photograph I’m using, so I might have to revisit this.

Where was I? 

Oh. I was wondering how this view will look after (when? if?) this horrible fire ever ceases. It will have to run out of fuel eventually. Will this affect how sunsets look in the winter? Will we have winter?

Never mind. Let’s all just sing a happy little version of “It’s a Small World After All”, because the colors on my painting bring that song to mind.

You’re welcome.

P.S. 35 years ago today my life changed forever, for which I am very thankful.

More Citrus Paintings

This 6×12″ oil painting. . .

. . .held my interest more strongly than the 6×18″ of a Sequoia tree. I am having a thing for these pictures of citrus against the hills. 

It is now drying, so I started another one, this time 18×36″.

Yeppers, upside down. This one feels huge, there is no deadline, and I really think it will look excellent in my dining room. Dining area — it is just an area, not a separate room.

What is it about these scenes that floats my boat? They are truly a source of inspiration to me right now. But, as a nod to a popular piece of advice, I’m not going to overthink* it. I’d rather paint.

*Have you noticed the popularity of this? The word “overthink” keeps appearing in book titles and songs, and now of course, in people’s speech patterns (along with “literally” when “figuratively” is meant, and “at the end of the day”). Who starts these fads??

P.S. It costs a fortune to have a transplant, and while insurance covers much, there is much more that it does not cover. If you feel generous and inclined to help my friend, Rachelle, this is the best way to do so: HelpHopeLive.Org