Trail Guy and I like to explore the bottom of Lake Kaweah when the water is low. It’s a good place to ride bikes, ride horses, walk, or walk dogs, not pretty like the BLM land above our house, but spacious and easy to get to.
It changes each season, depending on water flow, rain, water releases, etc. The floods deposited an enormous amount of silt, sand, and rocks, all in layers. We saw this last January before the lake started filling.
In past years, the Army Corps of Engineers has cleared the roads at the lake bottom, but this year it was too difficult. Or something. There must be some reasons, but from my ignorant point of view, I see all that material as useful for repairing all the ruined roads in Tulare County. Apparently not.
We spent an hour or so walking on the sand and dried mud to see how things might be this winter for walking and biking.
The cockleburrs survive no matter what. And Slick Rock isn’t looking too slick.
Lake Kaweah wasn’t a lake until I was about 4 years old, and it has been going through transformations ever since Terminus Dam was built.
Release, pencil drawing, matted and framed to 20×28″, $495
Lake Kaweah is weirdly fascinating, not exactly pretty, but always interesting. (Maybe next time I will remember to take a bag for trash.)
This blog post is just a short report on a personal topic. Trail Guy and I attended a 99th birthday party for his great uncle. The invitation came over the phone, so I didn’t hear the address or the time. I knew Great Uncle lived next door to a friend’s house, which I drew a number of years ago, figuring that Trail Guy had the address in his head or written somewhere.
He asked me what time we needed to leave because I wanted to do two errands while we were down the hill. I thought that because it was a lunch party that it was at noon, so I did some calculating, built in a little buffer, and said “quarter to eleven”.
After the second errand, he said, “Now what do you want to do?” I said, “We have the right amount of time to find the house, because we don’t know which side of our friend they live on”. Indeed, more than plenty, because the party was at one! Oops.
I thought he had the address, and he thought I knew the time.
So we went to CACHE and spent some time looking at the exhibits and the art.
Drawn so long ago that the landscaping was different. (2008)
When we decided to head toward the party, I followed my memory to the house I had drawn. Alas, it had been 15 years, and the signature birch trees which were to be my landmark were nowhere to be seen. We drove around the block, and then parked near the house that I was fairly certain was the right one. (Silly me, all that assuming, and I even didn’t look at the drawing first either—simply relied on memory). A neighbor came out on one side and asked if we were lost. Turns out that we weren’t lost after all; the party house was on the other side of the house that I remembered. By then, all we had to do was watch to see where cars pulled up with people we knew.
Great Uncle’s wife of perhaps 10 years read a sweet poem she wrote, and then Great Uncle recited a poem he wrote. What a story: engaged, then broke up because he didn’t want to leave a fiancé behind when he served in WWII. They married other people, and when both were widowed, they reunited and finally got married.
This photo was completely unposed and does not do justice to this handsome couple.
After the toasts and poetry, Trail Guy and I joined up with his favorite cousin outside. Favorite Cousin’s son had driven his mom and her husband to the reunion. He and I sat on the edge of the pool with our feet in the cold water and got acquainted. He was a delight to talk with! He said something profound, that first he attributed to Banksy, and then after looking it up (EVERYONE has a phone), we decided his version was clearer and simpler.
Everyone wants to be an artist, but no one wants to learn to draw.
For several months, I had no work. Instead of worrying about it, I enjoyed guilt-free time at the cabin. Well, guilt-free except for the fact that the road was closed, and other people couldn’t enjoy Mineral King this past summer. Life is a series of good things and not-so-good things; we do our best with what we have been given. Or I do. Most of the time. I don’t know what you do. Maybe you just complain. . .
My point, and I do have one, is to show you that I did have a few sales. One must pay closer attention when times are a little hard, because the negatives are often much louder than the positives. Here are my positives from that slow period plus a couple of months beyond.
I am guessing on the titles and some of the sizes. Closies count. . .
Pencil, 6×9″, a commmission drawing
Pencil, 11×14″, a commmission drawing
Oranges, 5×7″, oil on panel
North Fork, 10×10″, oil on canvas
Navel, 6×6″, oil on canvas
Sawtooth, 8×8″, oil on canvas
Unspiced, oil on canvas, 6×12″
Alta and Moro After a Storm, 6×18″, oil on canvas
Craig’s View, 6×6″, oil on canvas, a commission painting
Yesterday I showed you some oil paintings of Sequoia, the non-Mineral King part of the park. Today here are some pencil drawings (I LOVE to draw—did you know that??)
These don’t have sizes and prices. Some are sold, some might be framed, and most are probably just in a flat file in my studio. (If you want to buy any, email me at cabinart AT cabinart DOT NET—written this way so robots won’t bother me any more than they already are—and I will see if I can find the original for you.)
One or two might be available as a reproduction print. (Since I am old now, according to The Beatles, I can’t remember.)
Four Guardsmen (minus the smaller foreground trees that block these giants
Clover Creek Bridge, a fabulous structure NOT built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, one of about 3 pretty bridges in Tulare County. YOU CAN LEARN MORE HERE: Tulare County Treasures
My drawing students get to hear me say this regularly: “You can be fast or you can be good; I get to be both.”
Now I am working on a drawing that is very very important to me, and I am choosing to be good, but S L O W.
What’s with all the pressure? This is a house I met once and immediately admired, belonging to my closest friend in the world at the time.
I began this commission pencil drawing in September.
I got this far and decided that it needs to fill the paper more, because I don’t want to just fill the bottom inch with gravel. So, I have erased the lower parts and will stretch the slate and brick walkway farther down the paper.
The shrubs are being placed willy-nilly as I see fit, because I am working from about 5 different photos, all taken at different times of the landscape development. As long as there are lavender shrubs with color at the end, my dear friend will be happy.
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.
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.
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.
After several months of no work (i.e. lovely free time at the cabin without deadlines or guilt), work is beginning to trickle back into my days.
First, a pencil commission. (I still love to draw.)
This was the little sketch for the customer to approve or amend.
She made a couple of suggestions, and I scribbled a few notes for further verification.
This is a house I visited. Actually, I visited the people there, but the house really stuck in my memory as very attractive. It will be quite fun to draw.
I worked on the herd of buffalo for the upcoming show at CACHE, called “A Bovine State of Mind”.
It might be finished, but I will wait to sign it until I am completely sure there is nothing left to improve.
I remembered that the Holiday Bazaar in Three Rivers is coming November 18, 2023. This is the Saturday BEFORE Thanksgiving. It is time to think about beefing up my inventory of smaller paintings for this annual boutique at the Remorial Building. (Remorial, liberry, prolly. . . bet you can translate these words).
Yep, messy, but the first layers always are.
It’s great to be producing art again, both with pencils and oil paints!
