Just thinking about inspiration

Just outside the gallery/museum where I teach weekly drawing lessons.

People love to ask artists what inspires them. This is kind of annoying, because generally speaking, artists just love to make their art, not sit around contemplating the reasons. An artist who helped me get going in oils said that what inspired him were the bills in his PO box. I’ve occasionally pondered the question of inspiration, and all I can ever come up with is so mundane, predictable, commonplace, and ordinary that it embarrasses me to admit such a thing.

a morning walk

And the answer is. . . . BEAUTY.

The same walk. . . these are fiddlenecks

Well, duh. Of course I have to surround it with something a little more detailed, something to make it a bit more challenging, because I came here to earn a living. I am looking for the beauty of Tulare County, this poor, uneducated, rural, overlooked place in the middle of California. We do not have the Golden Gate Bridge, Hollyweird, the beach, Lake Tahoe or Death Valley. But we do have Mt. Whitney, sequoia trees, the largest oaks, the best citrus, more dairy than the entire state of Wisconsin and an enormous variety of agriculture. So, I continue to look for the beauty here in Tulare County.

A little life remains in this surprise bouquet, salvaged by the oh-so-thoughtful Trail Guy from flowers knocked over by rain.

Why? To generate pride (the good kind, not the sinful kind) in those of us who wonder what holds us here (No Trader Joe’s?? Who can withstand this sort of deprivation?) And, of course, to sell. We get a million or so folks (nope, haven’t looked up the numbers) passing through Three Rivers on their way to The Park (AKA Sequoia National Park) every year.

Sitting at a long traffic light on the drive home. Those are orange trees, in case you were wondering. And why not enjoy the sunset instead of being frustrated by the wait? There are only 3 traffic lights on my weekly commute, and I can actually skip all of them by choosing less direct routes.

That’s it, that’s all. Beauty inspires me. God is the creator, I am the imitator. And sales, because without those, I might have to get a real job, and then I wouldn’t have as much time to appreciate beauty.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Dad. You would have been 94, and although other family members have that longevity, it ain’t pretty.

A List of What’s Occupying My Time and Thoughts

Taxes

We haven’t gotten our 1099s from Social Security yet and don’t know if they will come in the mail or if we have to do something impossible online to receive them. As if doing taxes wasn’t abhorrent enough, there are so many obstacles and difficulties just getting stuff ready for the accountant.

Shoes

I walked a hole into the bottom of my hiking Crocs and my new Crocs gave me a blister—how is this possible when I wear the same shoes all the time?

So cute but not Crocs.

Several times I’ve sent a giant expensive heavy box of decent shoes we no longer wear to a place in Montana called Provision International. They gather huge containers of usable shoes and ship them to places where people need shoes.

You can bet your boots that I will NEVER EVER wear shoes like these again.

Watches

After trying for several years to find a watch that I can change the battery on, I finally quit buying Timex and paid big money for a watch that doesn’t need a battery. But what is one supposed to do with old watches? I have five that won’t work, the nicest because something non-battery-related is wrong and 4 because the back cannot/will not/does not come off. The one time I was successful, it was impossible to replace the back. Had to take it to a jeweler who used a special clamp.

I tried to find someone on Etsy who could use them. Nada. Listed on eBay. Nada. Contacted Veterans Watchmaker Initiative several ways. Nada. FINALLY I found a place called WeRecycleOldWatches and THEY REPLIED!! Then, after silence from Veterans Watchmaker Initiative regardless of method of contact, THEY REPLIED THE SAME DAY AS WE-RECYCLE-OLD-WATCHES! Because I think Veterans often get the short end of the stick, I packaged the watches and addressed it to them. Now, to take them to the PO and PAY to send them away. . . WHY do I do all this?

Motivation

What motivates me to do these things? I abhor waste, and it troubles me to just dump things. At the same time, I do NOT want to own things that don’t work or are no longer useful. So it seems that I spend an inordinate amount of time finding the right places and people for an endless supply of things. There is a continual push-and-pull between not wasting and a desire for a simple life.

Wrist

My DeQuervain’s Tenosynovitis is better. Only took 16 months. . . and I don’t completely trust the current state of almost painfree activity, so I wear the brace when doing wristy things. Using Photoshop or Powerpoint are particularly challenging.

Knitting

My yarn stash hasn’t been declining since the DeQuervain’s Tenosynovitis has curtailed my knitting. Yarn.com somehow reactivated my email and I almost succumbed to a sale, buying yarn after successfully being on a severe yarn diet for several years. “Almost succumbed” —saved by the fact that PayPal wouldn’t work with their site. “Try Later” —Nope, you lost a sale.

Rock Fun

My friend and I sometimes look for rocks together. It is so fun to go to the river and just putz around, without a permit, a fee, an application, a user name or a password, the option to hear things in Spanish, or hold “music”. We get dirty and sometimes we fall down while looking at rocks and digging around. Sometimes we find ones we want to keep. Sometimes they are a big project to extract and then to get up near the road where we go back with a vehicle to retrieve them. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’m sure someone will try to stop us. . .

P.S. None of these drawings are available for sale. HOWEVER, I do accept commissions.

Just Some Stuff

These three topics are rattling around in my skull.

ONE

It rained and hailed rather ferociously while I was painting that indoor oak tree at my church; two days later I took this photo. Check out the first daffodils in bloom, in spite of the recent heavy cold storm.

TWO

The elephant was buried in snow. “Elephant?” That’s the shape that appears on Alta Peak after a snowstorm.

THREE

Stem & Stone* asked if I had any poppy and lupine paintings hanging around for sale. Nope. We discussed sizes and prices, with Stem & Stone suggesting something similar to the popular size 6×18” sequoia paintings. I countered with the fact that sequoia trees are more popular than poppies, thinking that $195 might seem steep for someone here visiting for the purpose of seeing sequoia trees. Stem & Stone suggested a smaller size but the same proportions. I found 2 small canvases in my supplies that fit the bill, both 3×9”. This gave me pause, but I agreed to try.

The cause for my pause is that very small paintings require holding it in my hand while painting and require tighter control, taking a disproportionate amount of time to paint. If I price by size, which is how the buying public makes sense of pricing, after Stem & Stone takes its agreed upon and fair bite out of the price, I am essentially working for less than minimum wage.

I speculated that is the reason many artists choose to paint loose and fast. I could try that method, but then the people who know my work would wonder if I’d been dropped on my head, had tried to paint left-handed, or lost my reading glasses.

Sigh. Sometimes it is really hard to be a professional artist.

HOWEVER, I did a rough sketch for Stem & Stone to see if it fit the vision.

*Stem & Stone is owned by a dear friend whose retail judgement I trust completely.

Indoor Oak Tree Finished

The fourth and final day’s plan was to complete leaves and add birds. So, that’s what I did, very systematically, working from right to left. Yes, that’s backward, but I chose that direction because it involved less couch moving.

After studying real oak trees for awhile, I thought I could be more realistic about the leaves than the previous days brush-tapping style. Nope. Never mind. Fast horse viewing might be a little inconvenient inside a room, but that’s what the leaves will require to be believable.

I had to move the couch to reach the left side. No big deal, because it scooted very easily on the waxed floor of hideous old linoleum squares. (I wonder how long before we view fake wood-look linoleum as hideous.)

After the leaves came the big challenge, which was the gravy on top, or maybe the cherry on top, or maybe just dessert: details, drawn with my paintbrushes, using colors other than greens and browns.

That was so fun that I did it again.

And a third time! Look, I even signed it. Not big, not my normal way. This is my church, not an advertisement for the public.

There’s the whole thing before the furniture got put back in place.

With the furniture back in place, we have an inviting gathering place in a room that used to be kind of institutional and quite junky. (Pay no attention to the institutional table and the upside down table in the center of the rug.)

And try to disregard the 1970s bentwood rocker with the grody-looking upholstery. (This is a church without any money, so everything has been donated, which contributes to the decorating style that is a blend of Shabby Chic and Early Garage.)

Here is a view that is fairly inviting. And that blue jay won’t poop on your head even if you sit on the couch.

I’m wishing I’d saved some of the Before photos from two years ago so you could fully appreciate the long road of decisions, negotiations, and hard work that led to this current situation.

Day Three of Growing an Indoor Tree

I shoved the couch to the right, covered it with the tarp, and tackled the remaining branches.

I forgot to take photos for a few hours, after shoving the couch back to the far left side. The next goal was to show depth where the new branches overlapped. This keeps the tree from looking like a cardboard cutout or flat paint. I want it to look as if it could lift off the wall (aiming high. . . )

A tree guy stopped by to look at it and give me his opinion (I asked him) —balanced, realistic, believable? After receiving the Gene Castro Seal of Approval, I moved ahead with confidence, tapping on some leaves.

When I was finished (because I was hungry again—could bring lunch, but I don’t want to spend time there not painting!) it looked like this.

One day is all that is necessary to complete the leaves and a few additional details. This has been an easy job in terms of commute (2 miles) and accessibility (indoors, 2 ladders but no extension ladder). Plus, I am at my church*, with lots of people coming and going, a very social and productive place.

*Three Rivers First Baptist

The Indoor Oak Tree Grows

As I work on the tree, it feels as if I am making no progress. I finally figured out why: it is because I am painting the same stuff over and over and over. Branch, twig, twig, twig, branch, twig, twig, twig, twig…

It also looks insignificant when seen with the entire wall, so the photos from Wednesday’s painting session are mostly focusing on the tree.

This is my view from the ladder.

I climb down the ladder, stand and stare, decide what needs to be thickened, tapered off, added, filled in. . . Then I climb up the ladder and try to recognize the spots that I decided to fix. Then when I can’t recognize them because it is too close and looks different, I climb back down the ladder to try again to memorize the particular spots, then climb back up the ladder to make the additions and changes, before I see something different to add, which would cause me to lose my place again.

When it got too confusing, I got my darker and lighter browns out so that I could create a bit of bark and a sense of branches overlapping.

After about 5-1/2 hours of this, I was hungry, cold, and confused. Hungry because breakfast was a long time ago, cold because I chose to not use the heater, and confused because it all looks alike. Fret not, I did take a couple of breaks because there were other people working at church on Wednesday. I warmed up in the office, got sidetracked with some sorting and tossing with the secretary, learned some fun things about the pastor, tried some fancy coffee with the janitress. (Woman janitor=janitress?)

I haven’t decided how far to the left to grow the branches, so I put the furniture back in place to see how it all looks together, hoping the answer will present itself on the next day of painting.

Pay no attention to the ladders in the corner or the inverted table on the rug. It’s there to flatten out the folds. When we began discussing how to make the room more inviting, my cohort mentioned that she just got new living room furniture and then I got all excited to grow an indoor tree. Thus, this project was born.

So, more branches and twigs, a decision about the length, more texture, some fuzzy green leaves the way they are looking in reality, outside, right now in Three Rivers, because this will be a one-season tree. I can’t make February last forever in real life, but I can do it on the wall.

P.S. Nope, not painting the underside of the soffit; I am NOT Michelangelo.

Other Indoor Oak Trees

I’ve painted oak trees inside three other places.

The first one was 3 stories high in someone’s living room. This was the first time such an idea was put forth to me, and it opened a new chapter in my muralizing life.

The second one was painted in an empty house as the owners were preparing to turn it into a vacation rental.

The third one is inside St. Anthony’s Retreat Center.

Now, indoor oak tree #4 is underway. I’ll show you more tomorrow.

Growing an Indoor Oak Tree

My church* hired a new pastor, and things are rockin’ and rollin’ (not literally). Many changes are taking place, for which I am grateful, excited to be part of, and will tell you about the ones that are relevant to this blog.

This room is called the “multipurpose room”. For quite a few years, it was used as a “pilot room”, i.e. “Pile it in there”. When the junk was finally all gone, several of us put our heads together to find a way to make the room feel warm and welcoming, and to truly serve multiple purposes.

Someone brought in comfy furniture for one end, and then I was allowed to go at it with paint.

Lots of climbing up and down to study and decide where to place the next branches and twigs, what to fatten, what to twist a bit more, etc.

When I got to the end of my breakfast (made it until 2:30), it looked like this.

So many decisions. So slow. Here’s what remains: more branches, more twigs, darken/lighten so it creates depth and layering, add texture, add leaves, add a few birds, moss, grasses. . . ?

Good thing it is indoors, because this is a rainy rainy rainy week.

*Three Rivers First Baptist Church (Why are Baptist churches always “first”? Is there a “second” planned?)

The Building in the Library Mural

Good sunlit photo but before it was quite finished.

When I was designing the Ivanhoe Library mural, I dug around for photos of a building that is cemented in my memory as a beautiful old structure. (Apparently, I’ve loved old buildings all my life.) I found a photo of the Ivanhoe School auditorium in Laura Spalding’s book Ivanhoe—the Town with Three Names: Klink, Venice Hill, Ivanhoe. I was confused that her book identified it as “Ivanhoe Community Hall”, but I recognized it instantly as the building where I learned to play the clarinet*, gave my campaign speech to be the school president**, checked out books, and played the piano for the jazz band.

When I finished painting it, I added “Ivanhoe School Auditorium” and then thought it would be nice to provide the year it was built along with the year it went away.

Like most things in life, that was easier said than done. The librarian called the History Room at the main library branch, and was told it was built in 1932 and demolished in 1948.

Nope and nope. Architecturally speaking, it is clearly older than 1932, and since I graduated from Ivanhoe in 1973, I KNEW it was standing past 1948.

So, I went to Visalia (had to go anyway to retrieve Momscar with its new starter) and visited the History Room. Library Historian Hunter and I pulled three thick folders from a filing cabinet and started flipping through all sorts of old papers.

Like much in life, the building’s dates are complicated, far too complicated to simply put as “19XX – 19??” on the mural.

Here’s what we learned in two different places, along with Spalding’s book:

It was built around 1926 as a community hall. Then, maybe in 1932, or maybe 1937, “the community, who being unable to meet the indebtedness gladly disposed of it to the school.” One source says it was moved in 1932, another says it was moved in 1937; a third source says it was moved in spring of 1939.

Nowhere have I found the year that the building was demolished. Maybe demolition records aren’t kept, because the demolishers are embarrassed to be part of destroying history, or maybe because it is viewed as a hazard or junk to be gotten rid of, rather than something old and beautiful that has reached the end of its functional life.

So, the painting of the old school auditorium will not have dates, only its title as I recall it: Ivanhoe School Auditorium.

When I was a regular patron of the Ivanhoe library, sometimes we had to go to the main library in Visalia in order to find enough good material to write a term paper or do a report. What is now the children’s library used to be the entire Visalia library, which I found to be stunning and overwhelming. I also thought the building was beautiful, because it is. The architectural style is like the house my dad grew up in, built in 1932. (The house—the library was completed in 1936, so it was clearly the same era.)

P.S. I drew the library in 1989 before the new one got built.

P.P.S. I also stopped by a retail store in Visalia to see a childhood friend from Ivanhoe who told me the school library wasn’t in the bay window but was in a door off the porch. That’s why I added a hint of a door on the otherwise dark and bland front porch. I sure would like to find more photos of the building, both in and out, but those were the days before everyone carried a camera.

* Nope, can’t play clarinet anymore

** Yeppers, I won.

Library Mural, Day Thirteen, FINISHED!

The mural looked like this when I arrived in Ivanhoe (photo from the end of the previous painting day—I arrived early enough that the light wasn’t yet on the mural.)

After talking to an old friend who remembered more details than I, I added a hint of a door on the porch of the old auditorium. (Please excuse the poor quality of the After photo!)

Then I added orange blossoms. These are only important if you are up close and inspecting the mural; they are irrelevant if you are riding a fast horse.

Next, I flailed around for a while, trying to figure out where to work next. The idea that I might finish had me a little wound up, wondering if it was possible, wondering how to prioritize. The rooster rose to the top of the list—all those colors!

Here are the feet, before and after.

Next, I sat on the ground, now redwood chips rather than mud, and began the quail.

I stood back, studied the mural while visiting with my cousin on the phone, and decided that the blue sky in the Twin Buttes inset was too blue, too flat, too perfect.

Okay, now let’s look at the whole thing. This was a quick-quick-quick-before-the-tree-shades-it shot.

Some more staring and thinking brought me to the conclusion that despite simplifying the packing label, I needed to not abbreviate Klink to Klink Citrus; the name was Klink Citrus Association. And since I couldn’t figure out how to legibly paint “Tulare County, California” on the wall’s rough surface, I simply added “Ivanhoe.”

Throughout the day, I touched up a few more things, brightening the arms of the wind machine, tightening up the edges of the smudge pots, closing up gaps around some of the insets, putter, putter, tinker, tinker.

Enough, already! I signed it. Even with the guidelines of the bricks, my name went crooked. YOU TRY WRITING YOUR NAME WITH A PAINTBRUSH WHILE LYING ON THE GROUND!

Okay, one more photo before it was completely finished but also before the shadows hit it.

One last look.

I loved working on this mural—the commute, the ease of not working on ladders, the subject matter, the neighborhood, being at the library of my youth, meeting the various people who stopped by, the roosters, the patrolling dogs and yowling cats, all of it.

THANK YOU, IVANHOE!

P.S. An inside mural begins today, Lord willing, etc. . . if I do begin, it will be on the blog on Wednesday. Tomorrow is a little history tidbit about the mural.