It was still hot last week. I painted awhile in the workshop but didn’t turn on the swamp cooler. Probably should have. Painted slowly, quit early.
I retreated to the studio and turned on the air conditioner. While listening to interviews with the very smart and entertaining Mike Rowe, I began this pencil commission.
I love to draw.
My commissioning customer/old family friend told me in our correspondence that she was interested in a pencil drawing of the gas pump at the Silver City Store. If you have seen it, you might understand. If you haven’t, you might consider this peculiar.
What I consider peculiar is that earlier this summer, while delivering some more oil paintings to this popular place near Mineral King, I was struck by a particular view and angle of the gas pump; I took some photos without having any idea that Ms. Customer would make such a request.
We discussed these photos. I referred to the peak in the distance as Hengst Peak; she told me she grew up calling it Mosquito Peak because it is above Mosquito Lakes. I thought it was over Mineral Lakes, but there is already a Mineral Peak in Mineral King (well, duh). It is the one that looks like Sawtooth’s shadow, but I digress. And I defer to her greater history in Silver City, so for purposes of this discussion, it will be Mosquito Peak. Not that we are talking about the peak–we are talking about the gas pump.
Sorry.
But then she requested a photo showing the road too, so on my next trip up the hill, I took these photos.
More discussion ensued. More clarification. This is normal. . . these things take time to figure out on my end and to decide on the customer’s end.
Finally, it was time to do some little sketches to be sure that I am understanding her wishes.
Good thing she knows that I know how to draw. We’ll see if I caught her vision for the gas pump in pencil. Stay tuned, for as you know, more will be revealed in the fullness of time.
Just heard from Ms. Customer: “Yay! Keep going!”
Someone very dear and important to me recently had a birthday. Awhile ago, she sent me a photo of her cat and said she wanted to commission me to draw it. Or maybe she said to paint it. I forget – it has been awhile.
With her birthday coming (do they ever stop coming, faster and faster and even faster??), it seemed like a good idea to draw it for her. I could have painted it, but as you know, I love to draw. Besides, I know she loves drawings, so that was my choice for her cat.
She rescued this guy, perhaps from the middle of a road in the middle of the night. I forget. There have been many. Mr. Mittens is a huge cat with some sort of eating disorder, not uncommon in strays. He also is a polydactyl, which means he has giant multi-toed paws. He also looks like a very large version of my skinny old Perkins. Sigh.
We do love our cats.
My horsey friend didn’t respond to my request for help on the drawing that is too hard; my horsey drawing student did, and we experienced a serious role reversal!
She offered detailed advice and supplied photos to help me understand the things that weren’t visible in my photo.
I followed her instructions as best as I could, and then decided I didn’t care if the horses were rideable or not, had 3 or 6 legs, or if they needed a veterinarian (or an eraser). When I couldn’t think of anything else to fix or change, I scanned it and sent it to her, saying that I’d listen if she had more suggestions that I’d listen but it would be after banging my head on the wall.
Here is what my horsey helpful drawing student/commission coach said:
“Instead of banging your head I think you should sit back with a cold drink and celebrate…this looks REALLY good. I think the recipient will be thrilled.
While I might have been able to offer suggestions, I definitely could not have drawn this, so my hat is off to you. Well done.”
Lessons are free for her in September when we resume classes.
Phew!!
P.S. Someone else saw the completed drawing and thought the mule’s ears were still too small. Bummer. The drawing is now at the framer, and I am DONE with it.
A dear friend asked me to do something almost impossible. He wanted me to draw something for which he had no photo: the Mineral King Pack Station as it appeared in the 1980s. This was before everyone and his brother carried a camera around, documenting lives as if getting paid for it. (Or is it that people now document their lives because if it isn’t recorded, they aren’t sure it happened??)
I put out the word for help. It took 6 months, but I finally located a photo that I could almost see to draw from. If I knew horses and mules, this might be adequate. Barely. However, there is a lot of detail buried in shadow and the general mushy deterioration of a photo printed on a rough surface about 30 years ago.
I soldiered on. Gotta start somewhere, so I started with what I know – the mountains in the background. Printing the photo larger after converting to black and white helped somewhat.
Notice the collection of erasers. This is too hard, and a friend who knows horses offered this most welcome advice: “I think the mule may need a bit longer ears still and the dark horse in the front needs a bit of work. His face seems a bit too long and narrow to me and the front hoof seems a bit too big and clubby (that’s what we call hooves shaped like that in the horse world)”. See why I need all these erasers? Very non-forgiving subjects from a very non-visible photo by a very non-horsey artist.
I almost finished it but forgot part of a saddle. Forgot? More likely procrastinated, because it was a blob of dark shapes. Regardless of the missing saddle, I scanned it and sent it to another very horsey friend.
I await her counsel as to whether or not these horses can be ridden or if they need a veterinarian or perhaps a bullet.
Wise artists know better than to draw or paint things they don’t know; someone who does know will know that I don’t know. Wise artists know better than to accept commissions for which there are no or poor reference materials.
Kind artists tell their dear friends they will try.
Wise or kind? This is a little bit too hard for me. And,I may not be charging enough. . .
I thought about calling this “Final Chapter”, but I hope I live on to keep painting the bridge and improving with each one.
We made it through about 23 oil paintings of the Oak Grove Bridge. There were repeated views, color adjustments and exaggerations, brighter versions, muted versions, paintings with sharp clean edges, paintings that looked sort of blurry, and the last one from a completely different angle.
Then, I began working on the commissioned oil painting that combines the bridge with Homer’s Nose, a prominent landmark granite rock outcropping. The bridge felt too hard in this one, so I decided to do a smaller version of the exact same view in order to work out some difficulties.
“Difficulties”? I might be a slow learner, or perhaps a bit simple. I’ve painted the thing 23 times and still have difficulties?
Just try to be polite here, ‘kay?
Here is Oak Grove Bridge XXIV in a few steps (although it took many more than a few steps to do this).
There were some shenanigans by some hooligans while I was trying to concentrate.
This photo tells me that perhaps when I have finished all the commissioned paintings and drawings, I might do a bit of shelf straightening.
Remember that long list of things to do a few days ago?
I began with the oil painting commission of Homer’s Nose/The Oak Grove Bridge because it wasn’t too hot yet in the painting workshop with the swamp cooler running, there will be a check when I am finished, the heat is coming and will dry my beginning layers, and it had been a long time since I had done any painting.
When the day heated up and the decisions on the painting felt overwhelming, I switched to the studio where I draw.
In spite of having an October deadline on the calendar, I chose to work on it. Drawing calms me down, reminds me that I am a capable artist, and it feels better to inch toward a large distant goal than to just procrastinate.
This gave me confidence to tackle a pencil drawing commission that is definitely too hard for me. The customer requested a pencil drawing of the Mineral King Pack Station. After learning why he wants the drawing, we determined that the pack station as it looked in the 1980s would be most appropriate. He had no photos. I asked around for about 6 months and finally found someone with photos from that era. Alas, they are almost illegible.
After showing the customer and discussing it further, we determined that only one of these has enough information to be of any value.
Whoa. This is going to be crazy hard. I did a little cropping, a little measuring, a little pre-sketching, and finally decided to begin shading the things I know how to do.
Today’s painting for sale is not a painting for sale – it is an advertisement.
Just kidding. I’m not raising a barn, just drawing it. Well, maybe I am raising it out of the vast whiteness of the paper.
I received these 2 photos along with many instructions. The top photo is how the barn looks now; the lower one is how it looked when the customer was a child and what he is wanting me to draw.
He also wanted me to match the size of the barn in this print, drawn (or is that ink with a watercolor wash or something else I don’t recognize?) by one of my art heroes.
Part of the business of art is communicating thoroughly and clearly with customers and potential customers. I realized that this job would require a sketch and approval of the sketch before I began, because there were lots of places for misunderstanding. I sketched it roughly 2″ x 3″, to match the proportions of the size the customer requested (measured in picas, so just trust me that it is proportionally correct).
Got it in one attempt! Sketch approved, drawing begun. The photo isn’t great, nor is the printer. I am working primarily from the sketch and the notes.
A few hours later, this is where I was:
I told the customer it would be 2-3 weeks, but commissions always jump to the front of the queue. (2 poppy paintings need a final layer, there are 4 paintings in Birdland, and I still need a few more paintings of the most popular Mineral King scene because 3 more sold last week. Not complaining, just explaining.)
A customer brought me a pencil drawing from 1995 with the request that I turn it into notecards.
In order to turn an original drawing into a printed piece, there are some tasks to be done on a computer. First, I scan it, then open it in Photoshop, convert it to grayscale, erase anything that is supposed to simply be paper color, resize it to 600 dpi and whatever size in inches it will be printed, then convert it to a PDF and send it to the printshop, where she becomes their direct customer.
When I saw it, I thought it was a reproduction print, not the original. WHY did I draw an original on such flimsy and textured paper?? And why are all the trees on the distant hills the same size, evenly spaced and looking so distinct? Why is there no pencil on those hills? Why does no grass show between the slats of the fence? Why does that main tree look manicured?
Before I did any of those computer tasks, there was some serious pencil work to be accomplished.
Before:
After:
Ready to print: 
The changes are subtle, but important. My drawing students and I will see the difference, and I don’t feel embarrassed to have my name on the drawing any more.
What a boring title – “List of Activity” – I’m sure that got people tripping over the Google to find this post.
Not.
But it has been active around my studio and art business lately with sales of oil paintings and pencil drawing commissions.
Finished and sent to happy customer:
Sold:
Sketch approved and drawing begun: