Crescent Meadow in Triplicate

“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.

oil painting of Crescent Meadow by Jana Botkin

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”.

Crescent Meadow oil paintings in progress

 

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.

Redwood With Dogwood

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.

redwood and dogwood oil painting

Giant sequoias, Redwoods, Big Trees – whatever it is called, this painting is huge.

I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.

Redwoods, Redwoods, Everywhere

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.

Redwood oil painting in progress

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!

redwood mural, pencil drawing, photo and oil painting

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.

commissioned oil painting of redwood in progress

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?

 

Gingko Leaf Painting Practice

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.

yellow gingko leaf oil painting

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.

green gingko leaf painting

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!”

gingkobiloba1leaf painting

Said Friend knows her mind – this one was a hit! It certainly isn’t depressing, and since she is happy, I am happy too.

Orange You Glad You Live in California (or Sorry That You Don’t)?

group of citrus oil paintings in progress
Morning sun in the summer dries oil paintings quickly.

Orange you glad you live in California? Or perhaps you aren’t so glad – the state is way over its head financially, we have both sales tax and state income tax, our gas is almost the most expensive in the country, and it is stinkin’ hot.

But we can grow oranges, and we can paint them. That’s what California artists do who get calls from realtors who sell lots of citrus orchards. Blessings on you, Oh Realtors of Good Taste.

In case you were wondering, my favorite color isn’t orange. Besides, it looks terrible on me. Not my color. Maybe that is why it is fun to paint.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Squeezing Out Some Citrus (Paintings, that is)

A good customer requested 14 paintings of citrus. He specified a certain number of Tangerines (aka Clementines or Mandarins), Lemons and Navel oranges.

Among the excitement of replacing paintings burned up in a cabin fire and replenishing the stock at the Silver City Store, I’ve been squeezing out these paintings.

Come on! You KNOW that was cute!

Tangerine oil painting by Jana Botkin
Tangerine, oil painting on wrapped canvas, 6×6″, private collection
Tangerine oil painting
Tangerine, oil painting on wrapped canvas, 6×6″, private collection
Lemon oil painting
Lemon, oil painting on wrapped canvas, 6×6″, private collection
Lemon oil painting by Jana Botkin
Lemon, oil painting on wrapped canvas, 6×6″, private collection

What Happened to Those Parents?

Remember the agony, the angst, the moaning and groaning about Put My Parents In The Painting?

I decided it was the best I could make it, so I called The Customer, who drives a big rig all over the country. After lots of phone tag, he left me a message asking me to photograph it with my phone and text it to him. Obviously, he does not know me very well.

No worries – whenever I don’t know how to do something (like kill a Snake or face a dead kitty or operate Trail Guy’s DVD player), I just call S. She knows pertinear everything! She very graciously agreed to handle this task with her great phone and great skill.

The Customer liked the painting! (I think he probably couldn’t see it very well on his magical little phone.) A few more texts came through S, and I decided to preserve the friendship and release her from the misery of being my dispatcher.

I called The Customer and he ANSWERED his phone!! We discussed the painting, and he requested less sky, a higher treeline, and larger rocks in front of the house. He also mentioned a bird house. I scrutinized the photo under my giant lighted magnifying glass and believe the bird house is a figment of someone’s long-distance memory.

oil painting of parents in front of house by Jana Botkin
The parents are in the painting, the corrections and changes have been made, and Pa’s pants have been toned down.

 

And here is the painting. As S said, “You can’t see the Dad’s face!” That’s correct. I cannot. That is why you cannot. If I can’t see it, I can’t paint it.

When The Customer returns to the area to retrieve the painting, this California Artist might be hiding in the back of S’s car.

What Was I Thinking?!

I changed my mind – I don’t like a challenge after all. Nope. Don’t want to do this hard stuff. I’m an idiot for saying I’d try. I want my commissions to be easy, just flow from the brushes, paint themselves while I sing to the radio. This Put-My-Parents-In-The-Painting may cause me to stab myself with my paintbrush handles.

The truth is that I’ve spent hours upon hours upon hours tinkering with The Parents. This is the best I can do. What if Mr. Put-My-Parents-etc doesn’t like it?

No biggie – I can just paint it out. Erase hours upon hours upon hours of work. File it away in my mind under “You Knew Better” or “Learning the Hard Way Again” or “Stupidity Rerun”.

Then, Mr. Put-My-Parents can have a nice painting of the house.

That’d work, right?

I need to go lie down now. Maybe with chocolate and knitting. (That will keep my thumb out of my mouth.)

See how small and blurry this photo is? WHAT was I thinking when I said I’d try it?? But now that i see the photo with the enlarged view of The Parents, I think I’ll do more work on Pa’s shirt. And the pants only look too bright on the monitor. They really aren’t. I think. Maybe. Dang.

Whatcha Working on Now, California Artist?

So glad you asked that question! Here is a peek into the current status of Put My Parents In The Painting. (I’m twitching slightly from the effort and the stress, but it’s nothing a few rows of knitting can’t cure.)

Mother’s face barely shows on the photo. I tried to see some particulars under a magnifying glass. Even tried painting under that same magnifier. All I can tell you is “don’t try this at home!”

Father’s face has no detail at all in the photo. I’m beginning to steel myself for painting them both out after Mr. Put-My-Parents-In-The-Painting sees it and his face falls to the floor in dismay. (more knitting as stress reliever ahead)

In other news, I have another odd job.

This is how I define those unusual painting or drawing requests that pop up from time to time, simply because I am an established artist who answers her phone and email and shows up and does the work on time. You can see some of those jobs here, here, here, here, here, here and here too.

The customer/collector/client (How would you like me to refer to you??) sent me an email with an image of a Scandinavian snow god.

He recently bought a cabin and wanted this image used on a round wooden sign to put by the front door. We discussed some changes (he is remarkably easy to work with and work for!) and this is the result (minus his name and cabin # because I like to protect people’s privacy):

You would not believe the logistics in painting on a round wooden sign! I could hardly believe the weird things I had to figure out.

But, I like me a good challenge. (Read that sort of wording in several blogs by Southern artists, and it tickled my word-fancy-button.) If I didn’t, I’d be turning down a lot of work. Commissions really add spice to the life of this California artist.

How Many Hours a Day Do You Paint?

An old friend asked me this last week. We only see each other once a year or so, so we aren’t close. I think he thinks that art is my hobby that I sort of fit in around my life. When I told him what all I do, he was very surprised. This means a couple of things: we really don’t know each other very well, and I’m not getting the word out very effectively that I am a full time professional artist.

Marketing, you say? Nope. I’m too busy working right now.

Check out this list from the other day:

  1. I posted to my blog. While in the house on the puter, the phone rang. My neighbor/friend works at a local motel. She was calling to say some people from New York were stopping by the studio in 10 minutes.
  2. Raced to the studio (after brushing my hair – sort of forgot to do that or figured it didn’t matter). The New Yorkers were a no-show.
  3. While in the studio I put together a bank deposit and read the mail.
  4. The mail included a Call For Entries form for an Ag Art Show. It has been 4 years since I last entered, and the rules have changed. It seems worth considering again.
  5. Went through my photos and compared them to the categories of the Ag Art Show. Calculated the cost. (entry fees, mailing or driving 200 miles round trip to deliver the pieces, returning to Madera to see the show, returning again to retrieve any unsold pieces) Got some good ideas, decided to do the show.
  6. Painted three 4×4″ oil paintings.
  7. Remembered I was supposed to go to the Sierra Lodge to get another bear to paint. This one had to be delivered to my studio and I was supposed to show them the way, so I walked/jogged over.
  8. Upon returning with the bear delivery guy, I painted a fourth 4×4″ oil painting.
  9. Chose the sizes for each of the paintings to enter into Madera, added them to my inventory list, put the wires on the back.
  10. Remembered the bank deposit, trotted to the house for my keys, remembered the keys were hanging in the studio door, trotted back to the studio to lock up and then back to the house to lock it, and then drove to the bank. Figured I might as well hit the Post Office and the grocery store while I was out. Tried not to run in the aisles. Tried not to make eye contact with anyone who might want to have a lengthy conversation.
  11. Returned home to photograph some completed work and some works in progress.
  12. Began working on the (in)famous Paint-My-Parents oil painting commission.
  13. Wrote 3 more blog posts in my head while painting.
  14. Suddenly it was almost dark, so I had to photograph Paint-My-Parents, close up the workshop, and go home.
  15. Wrote those blog posts on the computer before I forgot them while something that could sort of pass for dinner was burning on the stove.

Apparently, I’m too busy to paint or do marketing. (the kind that gets the word out about business, not the kind that puts groceries in the frig so I can burn them for dinner while I work on the puter.)

Preparing canvases for 5 paintings for the Ag Art Show