About That Museum Wall Design

The exhibit is on the north interior wall of the Mineral King Room in the Three Rivers Historical Museum. (Really, shouldn’t this be called a “history” museum rather than a “historical” museum? This bothers me. The museum isn’t historical; however, I didn’t name it and can read their sign and website and then call them what they call themselves.)

  • The exhibit is called Native Voices.
  • The designer chose the colors.
  • The designs are from Yokuts baskets.
  • I will freehand the design rather than tape.
  • It will take a lot of time to paint out the drips, wobbles, and graphite smudges, but less time than taping and then hoping everything stays in place when it dries and the tape is removed.
  • I only traced the main designs and will have to figure out how to do the “shadows”.
  • I would dearly love to know how the designer thought I’d get the designs onto the wall.

This last picture shows the design with its “shadows”, along with three of gray people-ish shapes to give an idea of how the finished wall will look. On the left is The Gathering, in the middle is Quail (but the lighter versions won’t be included), and on the right is Rattlesnake.

Transferring Designs to a Museum Wall

The quail design had to be repeated, this time higher and to the right. I was on a roll, had this thing figured out!

Trail Guy stopped by to see how things were going. His timing was excellent, and he helped me place this design higher on the wall, measuring and leveling.

It was too big for the kraft paper, so I only drew half of the design, thinking I’d just flip it over and finish it. However, I had to “scab” another piece of paper and finish the drawing, then trim it when we flipped it over. I was thankful that he was still outside, reading through the exhibit on the New England Tunnel and Smelter Company (a Mineral King exhibit).

After tracing that pattern, called “rattlesnake”, I went home for lunch. Tony’s Taverna has a food truck outside the museum, and I know the food is terrific, but I am too frugal to spend $20 for lunch when my kitchen is less than 2 miles away.

After lunch, I returned to finish the final design, which I called “little men” but learned is called “The Gathering”. This one had only one little man traced, and the plan was to keep moving the pattern over until all three were in place.

Oops. There was a mistake. I fixed it, repaired it on the wall and on the pattern, and then worked the little man across the wall. I didn’t tape the bottom of the pattern, because I had to keep lifting it up and crawling beneath it to place the graphite paper, three positions for each little man.

When I thought I was finished, I could see some problems with the little men’s feet not lining up. This is something I could fudge into place (what a weird use of the word “fudge”, but I bet you know what I mean).

Finally, here is a weird thought. As I was figuring out how to do this, I realized that I learned these skills from my mom. When?? Where?? When?? I don’t know, but I feel certain that I must have watched her create a pattern and transfer it somewhere, sometime.

Thanks, Mom!

Designs on a Museum Wall

I enlarged these designs onto kraft paper, ordered some very large sheets of graphite transfer paper, gathered a few tools, and drove to the Three Rivers Historical Museum. My job bosses had prepped the wall for me, and they also blocked it off in a very serious manner, along with providing a ladder and a couple of tables. (They are TERRIFIC to work for!)

I had previously tested some carbon paper to see if I could transfer through the kraft paper, but had to go searching at Blick Art Materials for some large graphite sheets. There were two to choose from, and instead of accidentally ordering the wrong one, I bought both.

We measured the wall very carefully to mark the center and then figure out where the first design was to go. Then I taped the smallest design up, trying to see through the kraft paper to place it exactly on the mark I made, adjusting it until it was level.

The design was drawn in pencil, so you can’t see it on this photo. I kept the bottom untaped so I could lift it up to place the graphite paper.

MASKING TAPE WOULDN’T STICK TO THE GRAPHITE PAPER!!

The museum came to the rescue with old-fashioned brown masking tape instead of the easy-removing blue type.

This design is called Quail, taken directly from a Yokuts basket design. I used a straight edge and traced over the pencil lines with an obsolete tool from the olden days of phototypesetting that my students and I refer to as a “spatula”. (Too hard to explain.)

Squint hard, and you can see how it landed on the wall.

What next? I’ll show you in two days.

Are All Wall Paintings Murals?

Nope. Some are designs, created for museum displays, by exhibit designers. The Three Rivers History Museum hired a museum designer, an exhibit designer, whatever the title is, to create a Native American exhibit, and they (or is it the Tulare County Historical Society? Or the Mineral King Preservation Society? I should pay more attention!) to execute these designs.

Every new job I take on has an entirely new set of challenges. How does one take this little PDF and turn it into a wall design? These exhibit designers may not have completely thought through the execution phase of the display. However, maybe they do know how to do such a job and just didn’t tell the museum. Maybe it involves equipment and technology that I don’t own.

No problem. I figured it out.

The designer sent it with a ?”=1′-0″ grid over the top.

I turned it to black and white, isolated each group, and printed it. (These samples don’t show the whole designs—just wanted to give you an idea.)

Next, I got some giant kraft paper (looks like brown butcher paper on a great big roll, and if you have ever received a wrapped gift from me, you know what I’m talking about) and laid it out on my drafting table. This was quite a big jump from my normal 11×14″ pencil drawings.

And then, I started measuring and drawing.

It took an entire day.

What next? I had to figure out how to get the patterns on the wall. I’ll show you next week, after our monthly Learned List.

Another Interruption, This Time for Drawing

 

Once again, we interrupt our broadcast for this drawing.

Ever notice the annoyance of the English language, where a noun and a verb can be exactly the same word? And I didn’t actually mean “broadcast”, because we are in a series of posts about cabin life. This drawing fits the category of cabin life but it isn’t about cabin life; it’s about pencil drawing.

Get on with it, will ya??

An old friend (that seems to be where most of my work comes from, but new friends and young friends are welcome to commission me; even friends I haven’t met yet are welcome here) expressed an interest in a drawing from The Cabins of Wilsonia. 

Alas, it was gone.

We had a few options: 1. Oh well, sorry; 2. Buy another book, Sir, and rip out the page; 3. I can draw it for you again.

My wise friend chose option #3.

Have a look at the original photo that I used.

As always, working from a photo isn’t straightforward copying. Every photo has its indiscernible parts, because real life is messy. 

Because my friend was wanting the drawing from the book, I used that old drawing to help me make decisions. (I didn’t lie: although the original is gone, it’s still on my laptop.)

Then, I thought about it a bit more and decided that I ought to be able to do a better job now. That was 10 years ago, and I was cranking out those 272 (was that really the number??) drawings at a rapid pace. This time, there was no deadline. My friend’s only requirement was specific dimensions to go with another drawing, like a matched set.

Here is the other drawing.

And here is its new partner.

(The difference in darkness has something to do with the computer reproduction, not a change in pencils or pressure on the paper.)

This picnic table appears in the chapter called “Brewer”, which is the name of the road in Wilsonia depicted in that chapter. (I got clever that way.) The funny part is that I could not remember where this photo actually was, and I just put it on Brewer because I thought it looked good with the chaise lounge. 

Apparently my friend thought the same. He has actually had a strong influence over my art career, so this makes sense.

Thank you, DB!

Drawings: Finished and Begun…

… both drawn for fun, while I cowered in the studio with the air conditioner roaring. 

First, Slim’s Grandson is finished.

Second, Samson is begun.

The beginnings are always rougher looking than the finishes.

 

Drawing for Fun

 

Because I earn a living with art, I rarely draw just for fun. This is not a bad thing, it is just the way it is. 

A few weeks ago, Trail Guy and I were visiting with a packer for the Park. He is quite interesting to look at. The sun was shining perfectly on his shirt, and his hat looked imminently drawable (no excess straw weavings like so many hats have). Besides, I have avoided portraits for a long time, and with the current lack of real work, this might be a good opportunity to try faces again. (Hey, maybe I AM on sabbatical for learning!!)

Without him knowing, I took his photo. Later I converted it to black & white, because this helps me be sure it isn’t the color in a photo that is creating the interest.

Then one hot afternoon, I sat in the studio with the A/C roaring, listened to a few Mike Rowe The Way I Heard It podcasts, and did this.

The background will take some thought, because in reality, it is busy and messy. 

It doesn’t matter. There is no deadline, nor is there payment awaiting at the end of the job. That’s why I call this “drawing for fun”.  And as far as portraiture, there is precious little face that is visible in this picture.

1997 Coming Back to Haunt Me

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A few weeks ago, I got a real letter in the real mail from a real person. She said my phone wasn’t working (this is common), nor was my email (also common), so she resorted to old fashioned means of communicating, which I believe to be superior in many ways, but that isn’t a topic for this post. (You can read about such things here.)

She was part of something called The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation, and they ran out of the 1000 notecards of my pencil drawing of their building. (That’s a burn rate of 38 cards per year, in case you are curious). The foundation wanted more cards.

Back in 1997, I didn’t have much of a computer, nor did I have a digital camera or a scanner. The only record I kept of my work was an occasional photocopy, a slide (remember Kodachrome?), or if the customer had cards or prints made, I’d keep an extra.

The printing company I used back then is out of business, and even if they weren’t, they certainly wouldn’t still have the plates and negatives used 26 years ago (that’s how offset printing use to be accomplished).

I called her, since obviously my email isn’t speaking to her email, and asked her for the original. 

Oh-oh. No one knows where it is. We had a great visit, then she told me that her cousin would take over the project.

Her cousin and I had many phone conversations, with lots of ideas batted around to figure out how to get more cards without having the original, and more ideas about where to look for it (the foundation balked at paying me to draw the hotel again), and we reached an impasse. 

Then I had an idea. I went rooting around in my many stacks, boxes, drawers, and binders of old cards and prints, and sure enough, I found the Green Hotel.

I scanned and photoshopped it into printing shape, since printing something with an ivory background will not yield good results.

A few more phone conversations, many undeliverable emails and lots of various attempts, and finally, finally, this drawing was in the determined and capable hands of The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation.

Then I wrote a copyright release letter and an invoice for the photoshop work. This wasn’t what one could refer to as highly profitable in terms of monetary gain, but I sure did enjoy talking to these two dynamic women, devoted to history, determined to get a thing accomplished, and very quick-minded.

To top it all off, Cousin Lady lives across the street from my brother-in-law’s parents former home, so despite being in a county to the south of Tulare County, the small-world-ness of my little life is alive and well.

Locals, at CACHE, Part 2

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“Locals” is the name of the current exhibit (i.e. show and sale of art) at CACHE, the new name for Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery and Museum. It stands for Center for Art, Culture, and History in Exeter. THE RECEPTION IS SUNDAY, 2-4 PM.

I began my recorded talk about this pencil drawing, “Big Oak in the Pasture” like this:

“I spent time with a friend who had cattle, and we often passed this large oak, standing by itself in her pasture. Sometimes I looked at the overall shape, and other times I looked at the tangled branches. I think it is a Valley Oak, and it kept calling me back. I took many photos, not sure how they would get used.”