Three Failures and Two Not-Failures

This 1st grade dork had no idea of the pitfalls and roadblocks ahead in life.

A pie.

About 40 years ago, I had a summer job as a baker, and the place was known for pies. A guy from church told me about a pie his mom used to make for him and asked if I would make it for him. I was willing to try, so he brought me the recipe. He called it “chocolate meringue” and the recipe called it “chocolate chiffon” —I call it “chocolate pie failure”.

I wrote this to a friend who inherited the baking job:

Everything was wrong: my Crisco had been in the fridge for probably 10 years and for some reason had oil all over the outside top of the lid. What?? And the stuff in the can looked dried out, so I put it in the trash and found a recipe for a pie crust with butter.

Why does EVERY pie dough recipe NEVER have enough water? “Add 1 T at a time, up to 1/4 cup” —useless, with tons of dry flour leftover in the bowl. But I persisted, and eventually was able to roll it out, using a spray bottle of water to get the cracks to glue together.

“Blind baking” is unfamiliar to me, but I lined the pan with foil on top of the dough and filled it with uncooked navy beans to hold it down. It worked well enough, but the butter melted and coated the crust with oil. Is this normal?

The pie filling used gelatin, and the envelopes I had were probably 2 or 3 decades old. So what? It’s gelatin, so I used it anyway.

It called for egg whites, beaten stiff. Kind of hard without an electric mixer or even a hand-crank egg beater, so I pulled out my immersion blender. Useless. Would NOT beat the egg whites stiff. Oh well, I added the called-for sugar despite the textural wrongness.

Then I thought that maybe I should give the egg whites another chance, so I started over with 3 more eggs. Nada. Zip. Zilch. No stiffness. 

So I just mixed everything together and poured it into the pie crust, and then was horrified to see that the filling, which contains 3 eggs, DOES NOT GET COOKED.

It sat in the fridge overnight, in the hopes it would solidify. Alas, it did not, and when I dipped a spoon into the extra filling to test it, it was very grainy because apparently the gelatin did NOT jell, in spite of following the directions.

In reading an updated version of the recipe (from a more current Better Homes & Gardens red and white checked cookbook), I learned that there are many important steps that my old recipe did not happen to mention. In theory, it could turn out in a second attempt with all the nuances and proper tools, but in reality, I’m done. Because of the raw eggs, all the time wasted spent, and the fact that it was chocolate, I baked it (raw eggs—no thanks). It is weird but edible (CHOCOLATE!).

A Shawl

I found some almost thread-weight cotton yarn at a yard sale many years ago and this winter, in an attempt to work through my yarn stash (still extensive in spite of my severe yarn diet of the past 3-4 years), decided to turn it into a shawl. This is the kind of pattern that starts with about 3 stitches, and every other row you add another 4 stitches to grow it into a triangle shape. The rows get longer and longer, ending with 366 stitches, and the lace pattern chart gets harder and harder to follow as the piece grows. My shawl looks as if there is no lace pattern, just a random mess of disorganized lace. I knew I was off many times, and decided that it didn’t matter. If a person is wearing a shawl, the pattern isn’t usually visible. I just kept plowing ahead, and the results are a dog’s breakfast. A lacy pink dog’s breakfast.

The angle of my inferior phone camera doesn’t show the triangular shape.

A Phone

An elderly friend bought a cordless phone and couldn’t make it work. I went to her house and did some troubleshooting, concluding that the phone was defective. I ordered another, and she meticulously followed each step to set it up. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. All I can figure out is that her “old” landline is not up to the current technological requirements of telephone behaviors. This is someone who has no internet or cell phone, and she is very determined to keep her life simple. Together we decided that this is just a time waster, so we’ll return both phones.

We both think that mail is a fine and reliable way to communicate.

Not a failure

I can draw.

I can help people write books and get them printed. The books that I have shepherded from idea to publication but that I don’t sell can be found on this new page: OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKS. This includes Tales of TB, Springville’s Hospital, The Crooked Cross of Diamond Lake, Only the Living, and Adventures in Boy Scouting.

Long Distance Oil Painting Commission

Some friends in real estate in a distant place have occasionally asked me to paint something for a customer after a large sale is made. Client. I think “client” is probably more correct here.

Remember these?

Hmmm, was my scanner going south back then too? This is darker than the painting.

I wonder if the clients appreciated the paintings. No one has gotten in touch to thank me or ask for more.

Doesn’t matter. My customers are happy enough to come back to me. (Yes, my people are customers, rather than clients, and no, I don’t actually know the difference except that one sounds more expensive.)

My customers sent me the listing with gorgeously staged photos of the house and some drone shots (also gorgeous) of the giant property.

From these, with a little bit of guidance after I asked all the questions I could think of, I did two quickity sketches. The customers chose two possible sizes, probably based on their budget, and the sketches are proportional to each of the two sizes.

The property is a blueberry farm along with avocado groves. The house, although fabulously fabulous beyond all fabulosity, isn’t that important here.

Good thing they know that I can paint and draw.

To be continued. . .

BONUS: I read this from James Clear’s newsletter: “The problem with keeping your options open is that every option requires energy to hold. And a shelf full of maybes is often heavier than a hand holding one yes. Put something down.”

The Hardest Part About Being an Artist (accompanied by a random selection of pencil drawings)

Anyone want to guess?

Guesses

Maybe you are thinking that it is difficult to paint according to people’s instructions (called “commissions” or “commissioned art”). That might be true for some artists, but I am not one of them. I’ve said for decades that I’d rather draw an ugly house than be a waitress.

Maybe you are thinking that it is the lack of a steady paycheck. That is probably true for artists without supportive spouses with a steady income and insurance, but that is not me.

Maybe you are thinking that it is having to approach galleries. There aren’t any for-profit galleries in Tulare County, and since Tulare County is my focus, I don’t have to approach galleries. A benefit of having stayed here my entire career, both in subject matter and in the flesh, is that galleries (all non-profit) approach me. Not boasting, just stating the facts. There is much to be said for continuity and presence and reliability and community.

What about selling? Not a problem for me, because I don’t try to “sell” to people. I help people who want my art figure out which piece or pieces will please them most. No tricky words, no persuasive speech, just helping people.

None of those things are anyone’s favorite part about being an artist. So what is the hardest part?

The answer

Pricing. All artists HATE to set prices.

Other artists tell me my prices are way too low. However, my customers gasp and have to think about whether or not to spend money on my art. (That deflates any tendencies of getting fat-headed about being known in my area.)

There is a push-and-pull between keeping prices affordable while allowing those who do the expensive and boring work of maintaining a gallery or gift shop to have a fair cut of the profits. And keeping prices affordable is a bit of smoke-and-mirrors, the old 99 or 95 trick. If keeping prices consistent, and a size comes out to the price of $225, the tendency is to call it $199 or $195. If I do that, I’ve chopped $25 off my profit, and also chopped the seller’s cut.

What if I just painted small so all the prices are under $200 in order to keep the visitors and gift shops flowing along? This is often what I do.

But if I only paint small, then my inventory will not be ready for someone who asks for a larger piece, or when a gallery approaches for a show.

Ethics

On top of all that indecisiveness, there is an important piece to pricing: no matter where someone finds my work, it must be priced the same. Website, shows, galleries, my studio, stores—no “it’s cheaper at. . .” or “I know the artist and can get her to cut me a deal.” Nope. We* keep it consistent** and ethical, and if you see my piece at a show and then think that after the show you can get it cheaper from me, go have yourself another think. Likewise, if you see a piece at a show and wait to buy it directly from me, I will write the gallery a check for their cut anyway.

Conclusion

Push-me-pull-you, that llama from Dr. Doolittle with two heads, each one pointing a different direction—that’s a good symbol of the mess in my head when setting prices.

I need some chocolate.

I painted this 5×7” oil in 2006, not too long after beginning to work in oil.

*The royal we, since it is just big Queen Me-Me around here in this little business.

**Except sometimes I mess up, especially when doing stressful pricing math.

Other People’s Books

Because I have been helping people get their books printed but am not selling them myself, it is good to show people where to buy these books.

Therefore, I have a new page on my website listing the books and the links where they are for sale. This is a screenshot of my homepage and the menu.

If you click on the words OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKS (not on the above screenshot—that won’t work), you will land on a page with the book covers, descriptions, and links to the places where they are for sale.

Or you can click on this right here: OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKS.

Only two books are available on Amazon; all are available either through Lulu.com or BookBaby.com. These places provide more income for the authors (and less hassle for their book shepherd, me).

Mural Dedicated

It was called an unveiling, but it was really a dedication, a symbolic presentation to the town of Ivanhoe, a “Here, this is for you and you are welcome, be proud!” (I wanted to add, “and don’t let it get egged!”)

Lots of hoorah, thank you to this personage, thank you to that personage, acknowledge how wonderful everyone is, pat ourselves on the back, (all present ignored the bureaucracy, indecision, delays, red tape and reluctance to let the mural painters have a key for access to the facilities while painting) take some photos and eat some cake.

There was a translator for the talks; it was kind of hard to keep interrupting myself to wait for her to repeat my words in Spanish. Too bad I didn’t have a formal speech written out in advance to help her. I don’t actually know how to do formal speeches—I just talk.

(I skipped the cake. Thank you for your concern. Please be impressed by my restraint.)

Jonny, my intern showed up! I made him stand by me when I talked about painting the mural. Then I said that he had a great work ethic and that he needs a job. Probably embarrassed him. I don’t care. He is a good worker and does need a job!

We probably talked too much during the county supervisor’s speech; the supervisor said something about “how eloquently” I talked about painting the mural. I told Jonny that he probably had written his speech before I did my little talk.

Jonny was explaining to me that holding up 2 fingers is a peace sign; I was explaining to him that I know what it is; he didn’t explain why he always does that in photos.

Two friends from high school came!

Then my friend Lauren (former drawing student) asked me how to get to Twin Buttes, and I said, “Follow me!” So we took a short detour before heading our separate ways home.

I really really really like this mural and was so touched by all the people showing up.

MURAL “UNVEILING” TODAY

In case you are curious, this is some of the area around Ivanhoe. I really love it there, which you may have figured out. Of course I also loved living in Lemon Cove, and now I love living in Three Rivers. (Don’t move here—remember that we are fat, have diabetes, the air is bad, and there is no Trader Joe’s. Or 4 year college. Or most of whatever else people are used to in more populous areas.)

I didn’t know (or care) that Alta Peak is visible from Ivanhoe when I was living there. It was all simply “The Mountains”. Only people from far away said “The Sierra”, and people from cities said “The Sierras”. My dad taught me that it is simply “The Sierra” which is shorthand for the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Dad said it, I believe it, and that settles it.

This sort of view is probably in my blood and why I love to paint orange groves and mountains, none of which are listed on my website currently because I may be quietly hoarding them in my studio and house.*

The golden hill is part of Venice Hills, known locally as “Venice Hill”, singular.

*See?

Sold
Tulare Co.’s Best II, 24×24”, $1700
In the Orchard, 11×14”, $300
Behind Wutchumna, 18×36”, $2000
Groves, Hills, and Mountains, 10×20”, $450
Alpenglow on Homer’s Nose, 8×16”, $275

Oil Painting Some Local Stuff

What word did people use before “stuff” became so ubiquitous?

A little more work on these quail made it good enough to sign.

Quail Pair, 8×8”, $150

More work ahead on this one:

The scanner could not do this justice, so I put it in the sunshine and took a photo with my inferior phone camera.

Looking Up the Kaweah, 10×10”, $2,000,000*

And this one was photographed with my point-and-shoot Canon Elph pocket camera. Sure wish I could get all this techie stuff sorted out.

8×10”, Blossom Overlooking the Kaweah, $200

REMINDER (Because I know you all are just dying to go to Ivanhoe):

*I just put that price there to see if anyone would notice.

The Business of Art | Many words today

This might take more time to read than you want to spend. You also might not find it interesting. You can skip it today—I’ll still be your friend.

In thinking about all the distractions and how long it has been since I last painted, I realized several things, the most glaring that. . .

. . . I missed several important selling opportunities here in Three Rivers this spring.

What a Slacker

(1) The Studio Tour weekend: Did it include Three Rivers this year? This event alternates areas each year. It used to be an exclusive Three Rivers event, but I stopped after it grew to involve the entire county. It eats up an entire weekend and involves many strangers coming to my home. No thanks.

(2) First Saturday —haven’t participated in that for many years because I don’t like waiting in my studio all day, jumping up every time I hear a car go past to see if they are pulling into my driveway, helping tottery people up my steps, and then being squished with strangers in my little shed of a studio. No thanks.

(3) A busy Easter weekend in the local shops. Oops, didn’t have anything new to take.

(4) I’m skipping the Redbud Festival too. Lots of work to set up, poor attendance in the last handful of years I’ve been there, standing around on numb feet (because when a vendor sits, it appears as if he is disinterested) and not wanting to work on Sunday all add up to No Thanks to festivals, bazaars, boutiques and all such events.

These guys would HATE having strangers invade their space—my painting workshop doubles as their home.

Good grief, it’s a wonder that I can stay in business as a local artist.

After 33 years of full time artisting, arting, scratching out a living with paintbrushes and pencils, I seem to have developed enough ways of earning a living that I can be a little pickier.

But then again, when I had a solo show in Tulare last August, I thought I had it all figured out and almost didn’t bring any pencil drawings. Boy was I wrong—pencil drawings were all that sold!

Such is the business of art. The best I can do is return phone calls and emails, finish work on time, keep improving old skills and learning new ones.

What I do

Editing, proofreading, book design, drawing in pencil, oil painting, painting murals, teaching regular group and private drawing lessons, giving talks about drawing, publishing books (coloring, cabins, and wildflowers for me; a variety of topics for other people), printing and selling notecards and calendars, designing and painting signs, logo design, teaching drawing and oil painting workshops, an occasional solo show, accepting commissions, selling through local shops, selling from my website and to people who call or ask to visit my studio—it all provides great variety, and continues to hold my interest.

This is a fantastic place to teach drawing lessons and workshops.

What I don’t do

Notice that the above list doesn’t include the aforementioned boutiques/bazaars/festivals, or lending my work to places of business so that they don’t have to buy it but can pretend that it is actually going to sell while people are in their offices for other purposes. It doesn’t include giving art to fund raisers or annual beg-a-thons (hint: I will give many charities who ask a free Wilsonia book, or even a certificate for a free private drawing lesson). There’s nothing on the list about participating in shows with entry fees, joining in themed group shows, or schlepping my art to decorate someone’s annual banquet to give people something to do while they are waiting for dinner to begin. I have done all of these things in the past and am thankful to be able to decline such “opportunities for exposure”. The beginners and youngsters can do those things, but I learned that a person can die of exposure. (Yes, I do make exceptions from time to time.)

Why would I ever want to leave here if I didn’t have to?

What About The Internet?

I also don’t sell via Facebook, Instagram, or Etsy. These platforms require copious amounts of time online, building up a following, participating in discussions and commenting and “liking”, being visible, staying connected. I try to keep my connections real rather than virtual, and as much as I try to limit screen time, I’m still on the computer way more than I want to be: photos, communications, photo editing, blogging, more photos, book editing, book design, and even more photos for many reasons and uses, plus reading and commenting regularly on a handful of blogs, which have brought a handful of sales and new friendships.

This was a fun place to give a talk about earning a living with art and how I got to where I am, which really, isn’t anything to brag about. It came with lunch, which we all needed after a very stressful hour before the meeting began of trying to make the powerpoint projector work. (Next time I’ll bring my trusty laptop.)

P.S. Notice also that the list doesn’t include showing in galleries: this means for-profit galleries. There are none in Tulare County, only non-profits, run by volunteers, where I have had my solo shows.

Conclusion

Using pencils, oil paint, and murals, I make art that you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

P.S. I happily accept commissions, which means I make custom art for people. I hope you know that!

De-egging a Mural

Never before (as far as I know) has one of my murals been messed with. I can’t say that anymore.

A couple of weeks ago, some stupid hon-yock threw an egg into the sky of my Ivanhoe mural. So, I told the librarian to have county maintenance see if it would wash off first, and if not, I’d go retouch it.

Eggs harden and that’s that, so I took a trip to Ivanhoe.

The damage was pretty subtle.

Have a closer look at the shiny streaks and drips:

All better now

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KH!

P.S. The sign also got spruced up, AFTER the stump and log it refers to got cut down and chipped up. (“We’re from the government and we’re here to help you”.)

Painting Three Rivers in Oil

We last saw this painting of Alta Peak and the Kaweah River (just “Kaweah River” without any identifying titles because here all the forks have come together) looking hopeful, but with much work ahead. It was time, nay, past time to get this done. (So many distractions!)

Here you can see how I progress from the farthest things to the closest things, adding more definition and detail as I work forward. I’m not saying this is either the only or the right way to paint—it simply is the way I learned and what works best to achieve the level of detail that I prefer.

1. Mountains and hills first, with some definition on the rocks
2. Moving closer forward, completng the distant trees.
3. Riverbank, rocks
4. Water, more rocks
5. Grasses next to last; signature at the end.

I could have kept going, and still wonder if I ought to add a few closer wildflowers, but I signed it and moved ahead. Chances are I will mix some new greens and brighten the closest grass.

We last saw this one of Blossom Peak and the river looking like this:

The river is rockier and even more confusing in this scene, so the work of simplification is the first challenge.

Sky and Blossom Peak first—that was the easiest part.
Not sure what I did next—this one is difficult.

The afternoon light was waning while I sat, stared, and contemplated how best to interpret real life into something paintable and believable.

The light is weird on this, so in better light I will study it some more to figure out how to improve it before signing.

You can see that the colors here look different from the 2 photos above. That’s how it goes when painting with natural light. Lots of people use an “ott light”. I don’t understand the word “ott” and only use mine if I’m on a deadline and have to paint when light is low. My approach is based on the fact that no one who buys my paintings will be displaying them under an ott light. They need to look normal and natural and good in regular light.

So this one will have to just hang loose and be cool for awhile longer. That’s what people used to say before “mellow out”, “chill”, “chill out”, and “chillax” came into use. Now I don’t know what people say other than “it is what it is”, meaning you can’t do diddly squat about it. Wait, does anyone say “diddly squat” anymore?