September in Mineral King

A recent weekend in Mineral King in photos with commentary, as usual, from your Central California artist.

The hazard tree crew returned to our neighborhood.

We had rain, both up and down the hill. It was overcast for a day or so after the rain. I wonder if this would make a good pencil drawing.

The classic view from the bridge, with Farewell Gap obstructed by the clouds.

The sun shone the next day, so Hiking Buddy, K, and I walked to Soda Springs.

Crystal Creek is still running.

See the orange? That’s where Soda Springs runs down into the creek.

It bubbles out of the ground.

Many cabin folks have a tradition of adding lemonade powder to the water, swearing that it is fizzy and delicious. It tastes like metal to me, reminding me of the drinking fountains at church camp as a kid. Ick, no thanks. K is very traditional, complete with a Sierra cup hanging on her daypack.

Here is the classic view in sunshine.

On the drive home, we were amazed by the ENORMOUS pile of road base collecting at Lookout Point for the ongoing road construction project.

Finally, here are The Potholes, still running steady and strong in September. My theory is that all the trees which used to take up water above this stream (called Squirrel Creek) burned up, so there is more water to continue flowing throughout the season.

And thus we conclude another tour of Mineral King. I’ll get back to work next week.

A Stop on the Way Home

California has 21 missions, built in the 1700s or perhaps some in the 1800s. I don’t remember all the details from 4th grade, but I still love seeing those extremely ancient buildings. I detoured slightly on the way home from Gilroy to visit the mission in San Juan Bautista. It is better cared for than when I drew 30-something years ago. (Can’t find it to show you now. . .)

Across the street was an old building. It looked Victorian, not mission style, and it had a Texas flag. Weird.

California Highway 101 used to be called “El Camino Real”, which means The King’s Highway. All along are these old bells, except now I think the ones which haven’t yet been stolen are reproductions.

I have such a sense of awe, respect, curiosity, and a bit of excitement when I get to be at buildings this old. (Prolly would pass out if I ever made it to Ireland.)

San Juan Bautista is a small agricultural town; I don’t know what is growing in the fields down there.

When walking back to Mom’s Car, I took a picture of this saggy roof. (It reminded me of our cabin.)

Time to go home and get back to work.

P.S. I painted the Carmel Mission last year when at that weeklong painting retreat. It is fancier than San Juan Bautista.

Another Beach Day

Mrs. Texas and I chose to have a second beach day, this time in Monterey. While there for a weeklong painting retreat last year, I still didn’t have enough time to do all I had hoped. One of those things was to tour the Point Pinos Lighthouse, a place I painted while perched on the hood of my car, Fernando (and then fixed/finished later in the painting workshop and sold.)

It was an overcast day, and we arrived before the lighthouse opened. So, we went to the beach.

Suddenly it was time to go to the lighthouse for a tour.

Excellent tour! So much information, so much to see, such helpful docents. I just couldn’t get enough of walking around, examining the rooms, the artifacts, the displays. This might be a sign of advancing age, sort of like bird-watching, pickleball, eating dinner at 4:30, discussing physical ailments, spending money on nutritional supplements, and watching Jeopardy. (Not that I do any of those things. . .yet, anyway.)

We weren’t allowed to go to the very top where the balcony circles the light. After the tour, I went inside and asked what that gizmo is atop the chimney, a chimney which isn’t connected to a fireplace. It isn’t a giant’s binoculars; it is a chimney cap or spark arrester, placed there when the kitchen was in that room with its woodburning stove, now in another section of the house.

Some people were setting up for a wedding as we were leaving.

The lighthouse was used as a position of defense during WWII, with Coast Guard stationed on the premises in barracks built for the purpose. They patrolled with dogs and horses. Check out this application for a dog to be part of the patrol (oops, it is blurry here):

I could just go on and on about what we learned about the lighthouse, but I think you’d click off this site. So, we went back to the beach, because we didn’t want to get stuck in traffic heading back to Gilroy. (Are we seeing a pattern here? yeppers)

Still overcast, and kind of cold
The beach was littered with jellyfish and various pieces of jellyfish. Gross but fascinating. I watched my steps very carefully, because of course I was barefooted.

Bye-bye, beach. Bye-bye, Gilroy. Bye-bye, Mrs. Texas.

Tryna be brave here.

Plein Air Painting in Gilroy

Mrs. Texas is at the edge of a pumpkin patch, a big “patch”. Okay, a pumpkin field. We mistakenly thought it was summer squash, that yellow crookneck stuff that prompted a friend of mine to say, “‘Squash’ is the past tense of ‘squish’, and ‘squish’ is not a food.” (Right on, Ben!) But pumpkins? Yes!

I took many photos, trying to see what was most pleasing. Some I took in the morning, some in the evening, some with the inferior phone camera, some with the little Canon Elph camera.

I took many more photos, and will show those next post. Meanwhile, let’s continue with the plein air process.

First, some sketches. Super scribbly, but good enough to make a decision.

Good enough for now. This took about 1-1/2 hour, and definitely needs more layers and detail. I might work on it in the painting workshop when/if the commissions get finished.

Wait, they WILL get finished. I mean if there is a gap before more commissions arrive.

The Central California Artist Went Back to Gilroy

Mrs. Texas was in California for another handful of weeks, and I felt compelled to go back to see her one more time. So, I did. (There is a lot to be said about driving a car that isn’t potentially on its last gasp.)

We did a number of wonderful things, and I even did some plein air painting! (See? a business trip!)

Since I have nothing to show you about Mineral King today, I will start with the beach.

The day I arrived, we returned to Rio Del Mar, the beach with that ruined cement party boat which used to be attached to a pier. Mrs. Texas’s mom had told her sister that she remembers dancing on that boat!

There is a weird metal rectangle in the sand.

I think there is a pier in Capitola in the very far distance, but we didn’t go to a beach there. We did go to Capitola to get groceries at Trader Joe’s because it was a good alternative to sitting in traffic on the way home.

The next day we walked by a reservoir named Uvas, which means grapes in Español. (We didn’t see any, in case you are wondering.) My inferior phone camera did a nice job there. Several of these photos could make a nice painting, but I don’t think my tens of readers/followers/collectors are into obscure reservoirs in distant counties (although I would fill the lake to the brim for better aesthetics).

Some of the oak trees had Spanish moss, the slightly creepy hanging grayish green stuff that is prevalent in the southern states.

The plaque at the entrance to the lake walk had a list of names of people who were instrumental in building the dam that created the lake. Although they were just names to me, I’m sure they matter to their descendants. I was more interested in the pertinent facts, which they so thoughtfully included with all those names.

In all honesty (because that is how I roll), I’d rather be at the beach. However, the reservoir was closer, and we had other plans that day. (Not bloggable, just friendship things, errands, blah blah blah. . .)

But I did paint that evening, and I’ll show you in the next post.

Don’t Be Scared—I Can Make These Look Good

Sequoias, Redwoods, Big Trees, Sequoia gigantea—all these words mean the trees which gave Sequoia National Park its name. Paintings of these trees sell very steadily to the visitors in our area. Sometimes it feels a little boring to keep painting the same things over and over.

When that feeling comes upon me, I think of three things: 1. I’d rather paint another sequoia tree than be a waitress; 2. Here is a chance to test and hopefully improve my skills as a painter; 3. Here is a chance to force myself to do something I don’t want to do and build more character. (COME ON, I’M ALMOST 66, CAN’T I BE DONE WITH CHARACTER YET??)

It is time for another 6×18″ painting of a Sequoia gigantea. That’s kind of a yawn for me.

It is also time for a 10×30” of a pair of redwood trees, known as Redwood Canyon, Two Sisters, and Aunt Tillie & Uncle Pete. (I’m quoting some former cabin neighbors who actually said this is how they refer to the pair of redwoods about 8 miles below Mineral King.) This one is a good challenge—big enough to really get in the detail that floats my boat, and figuring out how to put in the parts that are important to the customer while making it look believable in spite of the fact that I have to do a bit of squishing and fabricating. (Yeah, yeah, I know— “artistic license”.)

Shut up, Central California Artist, and show us some pictures!

Because the same colors are in both paintings (duh), it was easy to put them on side-by-side easels and slam out the first messy layer. Sometimes this is fun; sometimes it is just an obstacle until I get to do the details. Doesn’t matter—see reason #3 above. (Actually, it was the 2nd messy layer, the first one being a thin coating of unrecognizability.)

Yeppers, upside down. Otherwise it was too hard to reach the sky on the 30” canvas while it sat on the table.

The sketch is what I showed to the 10×30 customer. It is efficient to practice the same scene smaller in case I need to work out some design bugs. One will go to a longtime friend (the 10×30) and the other to a stranger just passing through town. (Who knows? maybe the stranger will someday become a friend too.)

Don’t be scared. I can make them both look good.

After the paintings got this far, I left them in the workshop to dry while I returned to the studio to work on the second pencil commission.

Don’t be scared. I can make this look good too.

Will the Fat Lady Sing?

Who is the fat lady? Sometimes I sing for my drawing students, not well, and we all laugh.

What am I yammering on about?

The drawing of Texas, which is too large for my scanner, so the upper edge is nipped off and the lower edge is blurry. But first, let’s look at the scratchy beginnings, because it is kind of impressive that my customers trusted me to get from that scribble of bare bones to the finished piece. (Mr. Customer said he’d have recognized it even if he hadn’t commissioned the piece!)

I was just dragging it out before showing you the scan. . . wanting a drumroll or something. . . padding the post so it isn’t so brief.

Is it finished?

The customers just responded:

We love it Jana! This will be so special to the family, for generations. Thank you so much! We wouldn’t add or take away anything—we say it’s finished!

Maybe I ought to sing to myself a little. . .

Just Another Work Day for Your Central California Artist

Painting

To postpone two difficult tasks, I started this 10×30” commissioned oil painting, following the sketch which the customer approved.

Just Plain Work

This part didn’t warrant any photos. Some friends from Southern California went to my show, bought a drawing, and then hit a snag and couldn’t return to pick it up. I took it home to package it for shipping, started to clean the glass, and I pushed the glass through the frame. WHAT?? It had to be taken apart and resecured. However, AFTER I had the back resealed up, I saw that the two mats were not aligned. WHAT?? I took it apart again, got everything in position, flipped it over, and saw that there was a tiny little chud (technical term I learned during a brief stint in college working at a frame shop for miscellaneous crud, which shows up usually after a picture has been framed). I took it apart again, cleaned it again, secured and sealed it again, and then had to protect it for shipping. Two hours later, it was finally sealed up with about a mile of tape, a box inside a box, surrounded by every piece of bubble wrap and foam wrap that I could scrounge, and filled with packing paper and those bubble pillows. Phew. (I also cleaned out our box department, where those cardboard containers have been multiplying in the dark, because finding 2 appropriate boxes was a project in and of itself.)

More Work

Since I was hot and dirty, I decided to face the mess in my studio, where we unloaded boxes and stacks of paintings after bringing it all home (except for 4 pencil drawings, a few books, and a large stack of cards).

I went through the paintings and drawings, chose my favorites, and began hanging them. There was a loud crash, and I turned back to see that the wire on the back of a pencil drawing came out of the frame. I guess the screw hole was stripped. The glass didn’t break, so it wasn’t all bad. (Yes, I know I am not storing the flag correctly. I also need to vacuum again. Probably need to dust too, and clean the windows.)

Then I had to pack all the rest into the painting workshop, which has a swamp cooler, and a lot of shelves, which all need to be rearranged and cleaned. Never mind. I’d rather draw.

Drawing

Finally, I was able to do some artwork. I chose the colors that seem to best match Texas bluebonnets, colored one, and then decided to show the customers before I finish the flowers. I can lighten the colors a bit, but I cannot erase. (I think that this photo is a bit exaggerated in its darkness.)

Everything felt too hard, too full of obstacles. So, I ran away for a few days. Maybe I’ll tell you about it later.

Still want to be an artist when you grow up?

P.S. The studio only looked like this for a day because one of the stores that sells my work suddenly had a lot of space to fill!

Weird, But Good

My solo show, Around Here, in Tulare was originally going to consist solely of oil paintings. However, I asked the director if she also wanted pencil drawings, which normally attract attention but not sales, and she said, “Sure, why not?”

So, I gathered up my best framed pencil pieces and added them to the mix.

The director hung them on their own wall.

Well, saw off my legs and call me Shorty; shut your mouth and slap your grandma*, all that sold from the show was pencil drawings!**

*Heard that on a country song

**And many packages of notecards plus a few books.

Thanks, all y’all!

P.S. J.C. I can draw Sawtooth again for you if you’d like one of your own.

Driving Through the Valley After my Show

Golly tamale, that Central California Artist must have run out of things to write.

Nope. Rarely does that happen.

I drove to Tulare to retrieve my art. It was very serendipitous to pass many vineyards at a time when I need photos of them for the current pencil commission. I like using my own photos, especially when a customer doesn’t have what is needed. It’s better than taking them from The Google (although I use The Duck—AKA Duckduckgo.)

After filling the back of the pick-em-up truck with all the unsold art and securing my spinning card rack in the passenger seat with the seat belt, I headed off to visit a friend in a rehab hospital. On the way, I passed the very fabulous Tulare library, which is not only a county library, but it is administrated through the City of Tulare.

I love our library system—with my card, I can check out books from Manteca in the north all the way to Bakersfield in the south. It is possible that the Three Rivers library is one of the smallest in the system, so while I can order books (but not on their malfunctioning website with my laptop anymore), there is nothing quite as thrilling as seeing a zillion more books all in one building.

Look at the entry to this library:

The floor
The ceiling

After the library, I had a nice visit with my friend, then headed to Visalia because Aldi (a simple grocery store for frugal folks) is sort of on the way home. Then a stop at the Post Office, and finally, almost home.

Always. Mineral King road, Three Rivers, Highway 198 farther down, everywhere. I didn’t mind. The pick-em-up truck is a 5-speed, not an automatic.