The way I decide whether to paint or to draw is: (1) Is someone waiting for this? (2) Is there enough light to paint? (3) Is it too hot or too cold in the painting studio?

Someone has commissioned me to draw 5 different cabins belonging to 5 different friends, all of whom lost their places to the wildfires all over the Central California mountains. This is an uncommonly generous man, and each one of these drawings will be a surprise, so I am not going to show you any of them. It is a little tricky for him to get photos from these friends and then to get answers to questions about the photos without giving away his surprise.

While I waited for the next batch of helpful answers and maybe some better photos, I returned to the easels. The smoke was abating some, and the weird dark orange-ish light was changing to a bit more normal color so I could paint (to the unsettling sound of helicopters overhead.)

Where to begin?

This one? (The greenery is lemon geranium, supposed to help keep the mosquitoes from chewing me to pieces while I paint.)

No, I need green. (The orange on the table got a green streak on it, so I touched it up first.)

This bouncing and detailing too soon approach is not the usual artistic method – it is just the way I cope with indecision at the easel. The helicopters and continuing fire were unsettling, it was getting too hot to paint, and I lost focus.

There is no rush on any of these paintings, but I have 4 large ones in progress and a fifth one in mind. I figured that any progress was better than just quitting. 

Will it ever rain again? No fires? No smoke? No helicopters? Will we see some green?

See? Unsettled. I shut myself in the studio with the roar of the A/C to drown out the helicopters, write this blog post, and maybe just hold my pencils for awhile. 

P.S. Still not finished.