Blessing on you and all whom you love.
Christmas
Three Assorted Christmas Eve Thoughts
Today we continue the assorted thoughts, all unrelated to one another and unrelated to Christmas Eve.
- Last week I was in the Post Office and there was a bit of a line, which gave me the opportunity to do nothing but eavesdrop and observe. There were four of us women in the lobby, all wearing jeans. I observed 3 styles: A. super tight, AKA “skinny jeans”, worn by someone simply because that is what was available or perhaps worn because she thought that any fad is simply “cute” without regard to whether or not it is flattering; B. very wide legs, rolled up to be “floods” or “high waters”, worn because they were available and fit or perhaps because she thought they were the “latest” (which only lasts a few months any more) without regard to whether or not it looked silly; C. normal jeans, except sort of baggy and stacked up on the shoes, worn because they are never in style nor out of style, they don’t squeeze a body, don’t look like “high waters”, because they fit, and because they are comfortable. (Bet you can guess what Jeans Camp I belong to). I was happy to see that no one was wearing purposely torn jeans.
- In listening to a podcast that ends with “something you might not know”, I learned that The Chipmunks were created in 1958 by someone messing around with an old tape recorder (or whatever machine was around then) on high speed. As a result, I got them singing their Christmas song on repeat in my head. Made me laugh to hear those voices from my youth.
- I might be finished with the Yellow Tunnel! I dug through the provided photos and cobbled together enough visual helps to turn the humanoid into a hiker, then texted Mr. Customer. He said, “I think he looks great!” I replied, “Well, glory to God for answered prayers for help on this!”
Then I painted the edges.
That’s enough. I am guessing most of my blog readers have other things to do on Christmas Eve than read assorted and sundry thoughts from an artist’s rambling and active mind.
Yes, calendars and spaces in the beginning drawing workshop are still available. Look at yesterday’s post for the links. I’m busy thinking thoughts rather than finding links.
Five Assorted Christmas Adam Thoughts
“Christmas Adam”?
Yep. Adam came before Eve.
Today will be a peek into the variety of tasks required so far this week to maintain the business of self-employed artist.
- I expected to paint on the Ivanhoe Library mural twice this week, but they are closed. Until/unless they provide a key to the building, I will only be painting on the days they are open. (I wonder if they regret not providing a key?) Good thing Rep found out for me, and that Intern is flexible.
2. The host of my website and blog billed me an enormous sum of $$$, an upgrade to Professional Hosting. Because I use DuckDuckGo, I couldn’t go onto my account and see what was happening. It took awhile, but when I figured out that I needed to use Safari to log on, I called the company and reached a helpful human. She said I’ve been paying for 20 GB of storage and am currently up to 46 GB. (I know, no speakie.) We worked out a compromise, where I pay about $250 less than the billed amount, which includes another year. I will begin deleting old blog posts and the photos in order to not exceed 50 GB. (I know lbs. but am unsure of GB, except that it is greater than MB, which is greater than KB. Took a couple of decades to get that far in my understanding.)
3. Deleting old blog posts is in my immediate future. Because I post 5 days a week and have been since 2008, that is a lot of material. Frankly, no one cares. Sometimes when I look at old posts, related to current post in order to link to them and perhaps get discovered by more readers, I then see that the photos are missing, or the format is wonky. 2008 seems new to me in terms of vehicles we drive, but in terms of the interwebs, it is just plain historical.
Well, that was a lot and kind of boring. Let’s look at an odd job that recently came my way. I get these from time to time because A. I am the only artist that many people know; B. I return phone calls and emails and follow up; C. My prices don’t scare people. Most people, that is.
But I digress.
4. A friend has beautiful carved cupboard doors in his kitchen (I guess in his kitchen—I’ve not been inside his house). He had one extra, and decided it would look great as art on the wall. He asked me to enhance it.
We weren’t exactly sure if this would work, so I sent some samples, in which I applied a little bit of oil paint, seeking his approval, and then wiped it off if it wasn’t fitting his vision.
First, a touch of purple was approved.
This green was too light.
I wiped it off and replaced it with this one, which was approved.
This was really fun—very subtle, transparent so the wood color and grain still comes through, and very forgiving.
5. My printer kept saying it was jammed. I practiced some insanity of following the unjamming steps over and over despite it not having any paper jammed in it, and then it began working again. I only had to go through the steps about seven times.
Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve (which follows Christmas Adam), I will continue the assorted thoughts.
Thank you, and Blessed Christmas Adam, Dear Readers.
P.S. Calendars are still available. Look here for the info. Or email me here: cabinart [at] cabinart [dot] net. (Written that way because of internet gremlins.)
P.P.S. The Beginning Drawing Workshop is still open for registration. Look at this blog post from Monday for the details.
Last Minute Gift Idea
Have you heard that people prefer experiences to possessions? Some do, some don’t. If you know someone who does, here is an idea for a Christmas gift.
In case you are wondering, the workshop will take place in Three Rivers, at the Bequette House which is part of the Three Rivers Historical Museum. I am doing this workshop in conjuction with Stem & Stone, a little store here in Three Rivers. Hannah, to whom you RSVP, is one of the owners.
Library Mural
Today I thought I would be painting on the library mural, but my wrist hurts so I will wait until next week to return to the wall. Didn’t want you to think I was taking a nap or just loafing around. Instead of painting either on a wall or on a canvas, I am editing a book. Light typing and careful reading doesn’t hurt.
Meanwhile, maybe you want to order a calendar, either by emailing me directly (cabinart at cabinart dot net), using Paypal on my website, or chasing me down in a parking lot somewhere, if you recognize Mom’s Car.
SHARON, DON’T LOOK AT THE SECOND IMAGE!
Day of Art Business Variety
This happened yesterday. First, I went to the post office to mail some packages of this painting and some calendars.
From the PO I jaywalked across the highway to the bank to deposit moola from the day before in Tulare and a check paying for this painting, which sold at the Mural Gallery.
When I got home, there were sirens, more sirens, lights, more sirens, and every type of emergency vehicle imaginable going past. A friend, a neighbor, and the mail lady drove into our driveway all at the same time, everyone speculating and sharing what they knew. Trail Guy, L (the friend), and I decided to walk down to see what we could see. When we got there, about 1/2 of the emergency vehicles had left, so we were feeling hopeful that it wasn’t as awful as first imagined.
The driver doesn’t know what happened—just driving, then sideways. The windshield was completely smashed on the driver’s side, because that is the way the driver was extracted. The driver wasn’t hurt, just puzzled and embarrassed and dismayed and every other emotion when your life is suddenly disrupted to this degree with multiple uniforms surrounding you. (Yes, keeping things anonymous here.)
I walked back home, puzzled, a bit worried about what happened to the driver, and just slayed by the clarity of the day.
Some paperwork was demanding attention in the studio, because if one doesn’t stay current, one will miss expenditures and deposits and emails and real mail, no matter how much one thinks she will remember later. And no matter how careful she thinks she has been, the end-of-the-year bookkeeping is always a little ragged. It didn’t take too long, and I felt rather smug about handling it so efficiently (which somewhat balances out the irritation of those ragged parts in the year-end machinations.)
After puttering around with mural paints in preparation for the next painting day, which was an excuse to be outside in the sunshine, I finally moved into the painting workshop to see if I could progress on the Yellow Tunnel.
First, more blue patches in the cottonwoods.
The humanoid is very intimidating, frankly, just too hard… inadequate photos, and very small. I won’t be quitting, but today wasn’t the day for this degree of precision. (Yikes on the skin color, complete uncertainty on almost everything else.)
Edges! I’ll paint the edges! Trouble is, the top of the canvas is quite a bit above my vision. I moved the easel to the floor and in the process I banged my bad wrist, which I thought was well enough to stop wearing the brace. (De Quervain’s Tennosynovitis, now in the 14th month of trying to rob me of joy.) Holy guacamole, how will I be able to work on the mural Friday?
I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Intern will be with me, so we’ll figure something out. I was able to do this upper edge of the canvas, but then I quit for the day because ow. OW. OW. Dang it dang it dang it.
I was able to do a bit of texting, keeping current with the customer on my progress. There is a great big distance between us geographically, which can make a customer feel a bit nervous. This customer and I are actually good friends, so he isn’t nervous, and I just like to stay in contact.
He mentioned an interest in another painting to go with this one (which is to go with another one he owns), so I mentioned these two, which are still available. Pushy artist, eh? Nope, helpful. I hope. (The colors are SO MUCH BETTER IN PERSON.)
And since I am being a helpful artist, here is the calendar for your consideration. Prolly won’t make it by Christmas, but it will make it by January 1 if you order soon, depending on your location. $25 includes mailing and tax.
SHARON, DON’T LOOK AT THE SECOND IMAGE!
A Presentation
Last century I drew this picturesque church in Tulare and used the image in a set of Tulare County landmarks notecards.
Yesterday I finally got to see the interior of the church when I made a presentation to a group of folks who meet for lunch and a presentation once a month. (I don’t know the name of the group but it is the historic Tulare Congregational Church.)
This is the first time in my life that a church event began with champagne!
I prepared a powerpoint presentation called God Showed Up, which was an overview of my unlikely career of artist in a place that can barely afford to keep gas in their cars, phones up-to-date, and acrylic on their nails. This could be a slight exaggeration, but you get the point. The only explanation for all the unexpected events and apparent success (I’m still here, still producing work!) is that God intervened in my career.
They requested that I come an hour early. Good thing, because it took an entire hour to figure out how to get the projector to work with my thumb drive. Maybe the champagne was a good idea to take the edge off. (Nope, not me, because I don’t imbibe.)
I loved seeing the place, getting reacquainted with some folks I’d met before, and meeting some new folks. They were good listeners and seemed interested.
Making presentations is just one element of my little art business, and it is a more enjoyable way for me to meet people and keep my work visible than doing the art/craft fairs, festivals, bazaars and boutiques.
P.S. Lunch was outstanding, because it came from the wonderful Tulare restaurant called The Eden Cafe..
Long Distance Commission, Chapter 6
Remember this painting from before I began the mural? (I certainly hope so, since I showed it to you yesterday with a few trees completed on the left.)
I finished landscaping the distance. (Maybe. There’s always room for improvement.)
Then I texted Mr. J. (the customer) with a photo and this question: “Can you say if the roof color moves more toward a brownish gray or toward a bluish gray? I know that’s getting into some artsy nitpicky details, but I have to ask in case [it matters]. Maybe I should make my prices 10 times as high so I can fly places and check out things with my own eyes!” (Yes, I am editing my text for you, Blog Reader, so it makes the most sense)
Mr. J. replied: “Maybe include it as an option for customers to pay directly.”
I responded: “That is an excellent idea. Would you like to be the first?”
Mr. J.: “Like to? Yes. Able. . .?”
Me: “Shoot. I thought you were going to send me an airline ticket. I was momentarily confused, forgetting that we met on the Frugal Girl blog.”
Then I put down the phone and painted a new layer on the roof.
For this type of precision painting, I often rotate the canvas so that I can precisely monitor the edge of the brush. If the handle or my hand is blocking the view of the bristles, how can I be accurate?
CORRECT! I CANNOT!
Next, bricks and shutters and windows.
Much more detail remains for the windows and doors and landscaping. I carried it into the warm house for quicker drying. This is very intense work, and in order to apply detail, the paint beneath must be dry, or almost dry. The shine on the sky is an indication of wet paint, and the changing color on the roof is an indication of the changing light as the day progressed.
It was an interesting painting day, because I’d paint about 15 more minutes which turned out to be an entire hour. I must have been having fun, because time flew. There were no walks, no sitting in the sun, and lunch was quickly scarfed down while standing at the kitchen counter until I realized that I could finish it while walking back to the workshop.
I am seriously grateful to Trail Guy for keeping the house warm and fixing dinner. How do people manage without supportive spouses??
Meanwhile, Back in the Painting Workshop
Why “painting workshop”? Because I don’t paint in the studio. I draw in the 11×13’ studio; painting is too messy for that little space.
Since I am taking a break from the library mural, I now have time to return to the oil painting commissions.
We finally had a sunny day, which made it much easier to see. This is how the painting looked in the morning.
The day’s goal was to get all the green cottonwood leaves turned yellow. I mixed several shades of yellow and gold, and began working methodically from top to bottom and left to right.
A friend texted me to ask for a photo of me working on a painting. The choices were to wait until the evening and go through my 30,000 photos or hand the camera to Trail Guy. We opted for the second choice. My jacket is green, not blue. See? Cameras do lie.
I painted some more leaves.
Then Trail Guy tempted me with a walk, and as I stepped out of the workshop, I was struck once again by my flowering pear tree, which has brought us prolonged color this year.
After the walk, the temptation to sit in the sun was strong, but I was stronger, returning to the painting workshop.
Two more photos of the yellow tunnel. Next it needs more sky patches, but until it is dry, blue would just turn green when applied over the wet yellow. I worked on the humanoid a tiny bit. Very tricky without one accurate photo; I’m just cobbling many photos together, seeking believability. There are now yellow leaves on the ground too.
Then it was time to return to another commission oil painting, which has been on hold for several weeks while I was muralizing. Muraling. Painting the mural. Freezing, actually. Well, not literally. Shivering.
First, I needed to stare at it for awhile to become reacquainted.
Then, I tiptoed into the trees on the left. The light ran out and it was time to convert the painting workshop back into the cats’ home. Kitty curfew comes early in these days of short daylight.
This painting doesn’t feel nearly as hard since I have been working on the mural. Yeppers, I can do this!
2026 Calendars, available here (or if you encounter me around the area in Mom’s Car), $25, includes mailing.
Ivanhoe
Ivanhoe is an unincorporated town in Tulare County. I grew up about 4 miles away, and then we moved to about 2 miles away. (Well, I probably didn’t grow up there but I lived there until I moved away at 18 and maybe I grew up then.)
The only places I was really familiar with were the school, which went from kindergarten through eighth grade, and the library.
The secondary places I knew were the drug store (a go-to place to buy birthday presents), the dime store (they had fabric!), and the hardware store, which smelled sort of like greasy metal and also was a possible source of presents because you could buy kitchen wares there. There were two hair places: a fancy one with a following from Visalia (Mr. Green owned it and his wife was a teacher’s aid whose face turned purple when she was mad), and one called Ferguson’s.
There was also a grocery store called SaveMor, a fast food place called The Triangle, and another called The Jolly cone. We didn’t go to those places, and we didn’t frequent the post office much either. Our address was actually Visalia, which made no sense, because it was about 12 miles away.
The fanciest place was the Presbyterian Church, where the cool kids went. My older sister got married there because our church in Visalia was too small. I heard Barry McGuire there in concert when I was in college. Barry McGuire in Ivanhoe— !!
There were two big packing houses for oranges: Klink, and Ivanhoe Citrus Association. I think that is right—my family packed at Klink, which was one of the early names of the town of Ivanhoe.
It had multiple active churches, a scout shack where Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Brownies, and the Lions Club met. These were active groups. There was also a locker plant (for meat); right in front of it was where someone ran into the family wagon while I was driving past one time. The driver got out and ran away, and when the sheriff arrived, they lied about who was driving. (Mr. O’Dell and I both told the sheriff, but nobody cared.)
Now Ivanhoe looks like this (all photographed through the windshield because it was cold and I wanted to get to the mural, and the town is actually a little scary these days.
I didn’t take any photos of the dogs patrolling with purpose, although I counted 8. No cat photos either, as they skulk around yowling. The roosters were crowing all day long, but none of them were visible.
Thus we conclude our tour of Ivanhoe. It could cause a sentimental person to shed a tear. Ivanhoe, known for citrus, specifically excellent oranges. Hard to think of anything to say, except all the people I’ve met have been very welcoming and pleasant.