Pencil Reminiscing, Part Six

Confidence grew with each set of cards I drew, printed, and sold. Tulare County was too small – look out California, because the Central California artist is heading your way!!

In the 4th grade, we studied the 21 California missions, which were built in the 1700s and 1800s by Franciscan priest, Junipero Serra. Even back then I loved old buildings.

I chose 5 of the 21, with some sort of logic that I can no longer remember. There are 2 missing pictures here – San Juan Bautista, and the one near Oceanside, whose name I have forgotten.

This California mission idea was suggested by a friend, and although my inner cautionary voice told me not to do it, I ignored that intuition, dismissing it as pessimism. 

Should have listened.

I printed the largest quantity yet, and went to my regular outlets, which bought them in small cautionary quantities. Next, I hit the road with my best friend to sell these. Alas, none of the 5 missions wanted them because they only cared about their own place. I wasn’t willing to break up the sets, and it was crazy hard to find gift shops in towns where I knew no one. I tried Harris Ranch, a huge tourist place along Interstate 5, smack dab in the middle of the state. It took many phone calls, several appointments, lots of free samples, and finally I realized that this was not profitable, because in addition to the distance, their gift shop buyers quit every few months.

I finally consented to selling the cards individually to some of the missions, had one very nice gift shop in Carmel who wanted the variety pack, and kept selling tiny quantities to the local stores.

Eventually I got real, and gave all the remaining cards to every fourth grade teacher I knew. 

The lesson there was to listen to that inner cautionary voice and not dismiss it. Although one might not be able to articulate why something doesn’t feel right, there are usually solid reasons behind the reluctance, even if it is only manifested as hidden sense inside the intuition.

At least Judy and I had a great time on our road trip.

Winter Walk

What passes for winter in Three Rivers would make a Minnesotan weep. On Trail Guy’s birthday, we went to a foothill area of Sequoia National Park that most visitors don’t know about. It feels like trespassing, but it isn’t.

We parked at the Rec Building near Ash Mt. He said, “We had a lot of good parties there.” I replied, “Yep, and a lot of boring ones too”. This is the place where I used to attend retirement parties for Park people that I didn’t know until I figured out that attendance wasn’t mandatory. The building is long, narrow, and very loud.

Next area was a boneyard of equipment and non-photogenic stuff, then the corrals.

I appreciate the signage at the corrals. (Cowboy humor reminds me of Cowboy Bert. It’s been a little over a year since we lost him. Heavy sigh.)

We stayed on the road until we got to this little creek, appropriately named Sycamore Creek. From there, we took another road that led down to who knows where. Trail Guy said, “Do you think we can make it back up this?” I said, “It might be too hard, but we’ll have to do it anyway.”

He noticed that thing in the tree and said, “There’s a bar – I wonder what it’s for?” I said, “You want a beer? Or maybe you need a lawyer?” Turns out it was some sort of a microphone with a solar powered box, maybe to record animal noises. I don’t think we accidentally uttered anything subversive.

These little plants will turn into irises in about May. It will probably too hot to go find them then.

We saw a few mules doing what mules do. Horses too. This is a horse. (Thank you, Trail Guy, for straightening me out.)

I found this round thing and decided it must be a tuit. Might come in handy.

While Trail Guy poked around in the boneyard piles of old Park equipment, I studied oak branches, preparing for my next mural.

This might make a nice painting, although I never know quite how to handle the gray matter of leafless oak trees massed together.

This might be a better view.

There I go again, turning every outing into a business trip. That’s the way it is when one is an artist.

Pencil Reminiscing, Part Five

In 1993, Trail Guy went from being seasonal Maintenance Guy to Road Guy, a fulltime job with Sequoia National Park. This meant I could really focus on my art, since he had a better income. A friend invited me to move my studio into her gift shop in Exeter, and I was ON MY WAY!!! To where?? I didn’t know, but I was going, so there.

The friend was instrumental in teaching me about selling, marketing, display, professionalism, and even how to dress better. I will be eternally grateful to her for her tutelage.

My next notecard set was Backcountry Structures in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. I had been to most of the cabins but didn’t have photos of them all. The Park’s “History Boys” were helpful in providing pictures and information about these charming little cabins in remote locations, and excited that I had chosen this subject for drawings and cards.

You can see that my focus remained on architectural subjects, and the textures and shapes of nature were just too hard. I did my best, but yikes. To save some pride, here are my recent drawings of two of these cabins. They were on the blog in December, but here they are again.

More next week on pencil reminiscing. . .

Pencil Reminiscing, Part Four

After my booming (in my own little mind) success with the original set of notecards for Tulare County, Mineral King, and Visalia landmarks, I moved on. My memory is fuzzy about which card sets came next, and at what point I quit my job in the print shop. I worked from our little house in Lemon Cove and supplemented my income with a summer job baking at the Silver City Store, helping out at a friend’s Exeter gift shop for Christmas, and filling in at the printer when they had need. 

The ideas continued to flow. Now it was time for Tulare County Landmarks II, which moved into other towns of the county.

 Since this set included Lindsay, Tulare, Porterville, and Exeter, I found stores in all those little towns to sell the cards. I may have spent as much in gas expenses to drive around calling on the stores as my profits.

(The little circles are holes; these cards were samples for customers to see what was in the variety packages.)

To be continued. . .

Pencil Reminiscing, Part Three

It was thrilling to see my art come off a printing press as notecards. It was exciting to sell them to stores, and the ideas started piling in.

After Tulare County Landmarks and Mineral King Scenes, it was time to move to the city:  Visalia Landmarks was hugely popular in the stores, which are now all closed.

I just trotted all over Visalia with my camera, taking photos without giving it a second thought, never asking permission, just excited to be out gathering new material for pencil drawings to be turned into little packages of notecards. It was fun to think of what to draw, fun to photograph it, fun to learn about and write up a description for the back, fun to be on my own figuring out how to do these things.

This was all done in the days of film cameras with its accompanying wait for the pictures to be developed. During that era, the magical and mysterious fax machine appeared, and we had no idea of email, cell phones, digital photography, the internet with all its huge changes to our lives. Pencils (and erasers) were all I needed.

Pencil Reminiscing, Part Two

After the notecard set of Tulare County Landmarks began selling, the ideas began flowing. Mineral King was the next logical set, especially since I already had two drawings finished. Reruns, but I didn’t care and didn’t think anyone else did either.

This was the first time I drew the Oak Grove Bridge; this view is now too overgrown to photograph the bridge clearly.

All of these were from my own photos with the exception of the Mineral King Store. I don’t remember my family going to Mineral King until after the store had disappeared, so I used an old postcard without any regard or concern for copyright laws.

This is also the first time I drew the scene of Farewell Gap with the Crowley cabin. I had no idea how popular that would become or that I would draw and paint it so many more times (or any idea that I would become a painter).

Stay tuned. . . many more notecards ahead in this series!

Sunny in Three Rivers

The Central Valley of California is known for its heavy winter fog, often called “tule fog”. I haven’t seen it as bad as I remember growing up. My sister would be driving the family wagon, and after the intersection of the closest avenue, we’d roll down the window and count the reflector bumps on our road. Exactly at bump #17, we’d do a hard left to turn into our driveway. That was the only way to find home.

Three Rivers is usually above the fog. One day last week, it was brilliantly sunny at home, but I had to go down the hill. I pulled over to the usual overlook vista point for this one last look at the sunshine.

Wowsa. This wants to be painted, but I’d emphasize Alta Peak with the snow more than it appears in this photo.

Then I looked down canyon to see what was ahead.

Oh boy. Looks like sweater weather down there, never a bad thing for a Knitter with more sweaters and scarves than there are days to wear them each year.

Pencil Reminiscing, Part One

This could also be called “Notecard Reminiscing” or even “Back in the Olden Days”. 

Back in the olden days, I worked in a print shop and drew in pencil. Pencil drawings of Tulare County landmarks printed on notecards were my “side hustle”, now the cool way to refer to a second job. It was a hobby to make money, a business that I hoped would outpace my real job. 

Because I have always been a note and letter writer, finding stationery and cards with local art was what I looked for any time I traveled. It came to my attention that there weren’t any for Tulare County in spite of the fact that we have Sequoia National Park, and that we feed the world. From my viewpoint in Ivanhoe, then Visalia, and eventually Lemon Cove, it seemed that we had subjects that were good enough to be proud of and drawn. At that time I was only capable of drawing architectural subjects, so that is all I thought of. (Looking back at my work, I’d now say I was barely capable of such things, but growth is good, unless you are a tumor.)

 

In the past year or so, I pulled the original drawing of the Lemon Cove Women’s Club out of its frame to touch it up. It isn’t too embarrassing, but it did benefit from some tightening up. This was a drawing I just didn’t want to let go of, so it hangs in my dining room.
The original of the Silver City Store also hangs in my dining room.
This one I now use as an example for my drawing students so they can feel better about their own beginning work.

This was back in 1987, and I knew nothing about branding oneself (yikes, as if we are cattle?) or marketing. I loved to draw, and felt lucky to be able to work in a print shop and know people who helped me figure out how to make my idea happen, along with people who owned shops that wanted to sell my merchandise.

There was a distant foggy hope that someday I could be self-employed as an artist, but that was far off in the future, along with having a real studio, owning a home, and being old like a real grown up.

To be continued. . .

Because She Asked

A former drawing student, now a long time friend who lives far away, ordered many notecard packages from my website (you can do that too – this is The Notecard Page.)

She asked if I had anything of Kings Canyon, or perhaps Hume Lake. Nothing. I’ve got nothing. Even the General Grant Tree has finally sold out.

This sent me to my photographs, in search of something to redraw, or maybe even something new. It also caused me to dig around to find the old drawings of Kings Canyon.

Kings Canyon Overlook, drawn in 2001 for one of the last variety set of notecards. It’s not embarrassing, even 19 years later.
This is a small part of a larger collage drawing, and I like the addition of the yucca in bloom.
The collage was a commissioned drawing of highlights from both Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. 

The overlook is the winner for a Kings Canyon drawing to be made into notecards. It isn’t part of Kings Canyon National Park, just part of the geographical area called Kings Canyon. But since I am not doing this for The Park, it doesn’t matter. 

Beginnings, looking at a mess of photos and a messed up print of the yucca version.

This is going quite fast, helped along by experience, combined with listening to Ann Patchett’s The Dutch House, read by Tom Hanks. (I love our county library system.)

And if you are interested in buying notecards with this drawing on it, please let me know. If enough folks want them, I’ll order some. They’ll be the same as most of my cards – 4-1/2 x 5-1/2″, 4 to a package for $8.

Planning Time

Each year in January, I evaluate the Mineral King paintings that sold over the summer. I make lists of sizes, subject matter, what sold, what didn’t sell. Then I plan what to paint for the next summer, choosing sizes, subject matter, and photos to work from.

Because there are many guests who return yearly to Silver City where my paintings sell, I have to be careful to vary the sizes and views, while maintaining a good inventory of the most popular subjects. The classic view of the Crowley Cabin with Farewell Gap in the background remains the top seller; the Honeymoon Cabin and Sawtooth are usually neck and neck for second place. After that, anything with water, and as long as I add wildflowers, any other subject usually sells.

The 6×18″ format has done very well, either horizontal or vertical. It is unusual and fits into squishy little spaces. 

Painting this time of year can be uncomfortable in the workshop. Trail Guy lights the heater, and then we shut the doors to keep the heat in. Sometimes the cats are on the wrong side of the door (whichever side they are on is usually the wrong side for them.)

Of course I had to start with my favorite subject, the Oak Grove Bridge.

The next largest size I’ll need this coming summer is 10×10″. These are small sizes for oil paintings if sold in a gallery; I am selling these in a store that caters to folks who travel light. Different locale, different clientele, so different sizele. (Sorry, that just fit there.)Good start to this season’s paintings. I’m cold, so I’ll go in the studio now where the heater is more effective and I can’t hear the neighbor’s dogs as loudly.