Because my self-imposed drawing quota for The Cabins of Wilsonia was met for February, I used the last week of the month to knock out a few oil paintings. Two are commissions, and the rest are to sell at the Three Rivers gallery Colors.
Here they are in progress:
Kind of nice to be working in color again. Smells funny, though.
“Loosiosity” is a word coined by my customer/student/friend Sara. Because it is one of those self-defining words, I’m guessing that you can figure it out.
Sara commissioned me to paint a scene for her based on a piece of art she had seen and loved. I had a little photo of that art, but didn’t want to copy it. I changed several things, and painted it in my style, but following Sara’s request for loosiosity.
I THOUGHT I was painting loosely because it was definitely looser than my normal style.
After living with the piece for a few months, Sara told me it wasn’t as she had envisioned. She is very polite, and we are quite honest and straight-forward with one another. It is the sort of relationship I have with all my drawing students.
Sara brought it to my studio, and together with our friend Lou, we reworked it. This time we studied the tiny photo and evaluated with differences. We discussed ways to mess it up, add color, soften edges, add texture, and in general, match the piece she had first seen.
Are you wondering why she didn’t just buy that piece she loved? (Great question, glad you asked. ) Because it was SOLD to someone else, of course!
Here is the before, when I originally thought I was finished:
Here it is after Sara and I and our friend Lou finished reworking it:
WOW! The differences barely show in these photos!
We messed up the horizon line, added brighter colors, changed textures and added longer lines (“sticks”?).
Lighting is different everywhere, and IT MATTERS. While we were working in the painting studio on an overcast day, it was tricky to see the correct colors. I finally opened up the doors so we could see it in daylight. Now, she will see it in her home.
When you grow up in the same county as the Sequoia Gigantea, you tend to call these guys “big trees”.
That is sort of a Duh thing, but maybe we are a little duh-ish in Tulare County.
As a graduate of Redwood High School, you’d think I’d call them “Redwoods”. But Noooo, I still call them “Big Trees”. (Grow up, already, California Artist.)
Big Tree III, 6×18″, commissioned oil painting
Sometimes I think I am a fake California artist because I am not painting the beach or palm trees, or eucalyptus trees like those California plein air guys from the early (or was it mid?) 1900s.
Then I think – WAIT A DOGGONE MINUTE! Why am I treating Central California as if it is fly-over country, a place unworthy of mention?
Tulare County has the highest point in the contiguous United States, the largest trees by volume in the world, the oldest oaks in the world (I think that is right), and we feed the world!
Take that, you beach bums. I am a California artist, so there. (Hmmm, a small amount of insecurity, perhaps?)
I know, I know. I’m not painting this year, EXCEPT when I have a commission to do. I think it is funny that on the very first working day of 2013 when I am supposed to have a laser-like focus on The Cabins of Wilsonia, there I am, at the easel!
Some people saw my painting “Big Tree II” at a gallery. They wanted it. They waited. It sold to someone else. They called and asked if I had another like it. I said no, but I could paint them another. They said yes.
So if they want one, I might as well paint two. That way, when one of my galleries calls to say a Sequoia tree painting has sold, I can immediately deliver another. “My galleries” sounds so pretentious, but you know what I mean, right?
It is the same theory as doubling a batch of cookies – IF you can restrain yourself from eating them all, you can put half in the freezer for the next cookie emergency.
I’m sure you all understand “Cookie Emergency”, right?
So, I have two photos of entire Sequoia Trees, and the two previous paintings for reference. If Big Tree II sold, it stands to reason that there was a Big Tree I, right?
Wow, paintings look scruffy at the beginning. But can you see the promise? Can you feel the forward motion? Is the excitement building?
I’ll let you know which one the people choose, and which one goes “in the freezer”. Or, perhaps I’ll offer it for sale on Daily Paintworks.
Now I’m going to draw awhile.
I ended three sentences with “right?” What manner of weird speech pattern is creeping in here?
2013 brings a new focus to my professional life as a California artist, a “regionalist from Quaintsville”.
I’ve told you about the book I am drawing, writing and publishing – The Cabins of Wilsonia.
You’ve seen drawings as they are completed and read my groanings as I wonder how I will ever finish the project.
I will spend 2013 focusing solely on the book. No painting, no shows, no painting for future shows.
(Okay, that’s not entirely true. I will paint for the 2 places that sell my work and I will paint commissions.)
I will also accept pencil commissions and teach drawing lessons. (This artist has no intention of starving!)
It means that I will post to this blog 2-3 times a week instead of 5 days.
Yeppers, you can follow the progress on my book at dubya-dubya-dubya-dot-the-cabins-of-wilsonia-dot-com.
I’ve separated out this project from my regular blog for several business reasons, most of which you might find boring. And I NEVER want my blog to be b o r i n g.
So, here we go – a complete year of drawing! Can’t wait. Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE to draw? 😎
The Most Beautiful Fruit Bowl I’ve Ever Seen is completed. It is signed, it is carefully wrapped up and sealed in a box, and I delivered it to an undisclosed location in Exeter. Someone will have an a-may-zing Christmas present. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that!
P.S. This might be one of the most challenging paintings I’ve done. On the other hand, it was very very fun. Now I’m done talking about it.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! It was a commission. I didn’t tell you while I was painting. That is a commission omission.
Why is “commission” spelled with two m’s and “omission” with one?
Somebody shut me up, please!
“Triplicate” is not to be confused with “triptych”. It means in three parts, but not the same way as a triptych. That means one painting in three parts.
Never mind.
I probably paint better now.
I hope so.
A customer stopped by my studio and said he’d bought a painting of Tharp’s Log for his son a year or so ago. Now he wanted to buy something to go with it, and he remembered it had been shown with a painting of Crescent Meadow. (If you have visited Sequoia National Park, then you probably know that one begins the walk to Tharp’s Log at Crescent Meadow.) Of course the painting had sold.
Doesn’t that sound snotty? “Of course the painting had sold.”
I showed him the photos of previous paintings of Crescent Meadow until he said, “That’s it!” He asked me to paint it again for him. By way of reassuring me it isn’t wrong to repaint the same scene, he told me the story of Gilbert Stuart, who painted George Washington over and over and over, possibly even in the same pose.
It did make me feel better – thanks, Bill! I’ve been doing the same scenes over and over for years and wondered if it was cheating!
Since I needed to paint one for this man who lives far away to give to his son who lives even further away, I decided to paint 2 of them. As long as I have to mix up the paint colors, it makes sense to me.
It is similar to Marilyn’s saying, “Cook once, eat twice”.
Now they are drying so that I can add more detail on top, including some wildflowers. Notice the two are not identical. That would be too hard for this California Artist who is working hard on not being bound to her photos.
I thought about calling this post “Red Dog” but assumed that might be ever so slightly misleading.
This painting is finished, all 30×40″ of its glorious self.
Giant sequoias, Redwoods, Big Trees – whatever it is called, this painting is huge.
I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.
I still have a very large commissioned oil painting of redwoods to complete. Redwoods are sequoia gigantea, not to be confused with California redwoods. We grew up calling them “the big trees”, and I had no clue what a privilege it was to live so close. (I might have been a bit of a twit.) I choose to call them Redwoods now because I went to Redwood High School, and although I will skip the upcoming reunion, I have retained enough loyalty to hang onto the name. But, I digress.
The customer liked a similar painting that I made for someone else, which was based on the pencil drawing called “Redwood & Dogwood”.
You can see the drawing, plus a photo of a sequoia on my laptop. The reason the palette is on the floor is because I was kneeling there to work on the lower portion of the tree. You can see the primary colors running across the top of the palette and the redwood colors running down the side.
But wait! There’s more!
Sheesh. This California artist has a thing about redwood trees. On the left is half of the pair of doors to the painting studio. I had to open them because it is sort of dark in there. Then, the swamp cooler had to be on high, so the doors were blowing around.
It’s rough being a California artist in the heat of summer.
Wah.
This is how it looked at the end of the noisy, dark, overheated day of painting. It should dry enough overnight to begin adding the dogwood flowers on top of the redwood tree. I mean layered in front of the tree, not up at the top of the painting. You knew that, right?
A few years ago I painted a gingko leaf. A friend saw it and asked if I could paint the same for her, but make it green instead of yellow. I did.
The background didn’t please her, because the darkness that I thought showed off the leaf looked depressing to her. This was her opinion, which I asked for. Since the painting was to please her, I appreciated her honesty.
The painting hung in my workshop for several months before I repainted the background. Nope, not that either. But, I did add more detail to the leaf, which suited us both better.
Throughout these conversations, I insisted on honesty from her. It is the only way I can learn, the best way to communicate, and an indication of the level of trust between us.
I finally asked her for a suggestion of what she would prefer. She said, “Sunflower yellow, I think!”
Said Friend knows her mind – this one was a hit! It certainly isn’t depressing, and since she is happy, I am happy too.