Spring Walk in Three Rivers

This California artist would like to share some inspirational photos with you. She took several walks in Three Rivers in the last 2 weeks with her camera in hand. Since a picture is worth 1000 words, here is 6000 words worth for your gazing pleasure. (But remember it is usually hot and brown and dry here in Tulare County, and we are all fat and have diabetes and the unemployment is really high, so you should probably not consider moving here just because we have 15 minutes of beauty each spring.)

Okay, never mind. Only one photo will load. Computers can be enough to make a preacher cuss. Since I don’t allow profanity on my blog and I’m no preacher, gotta go now!

Four Things Artists Don’t Explain

Maybe they don’t explain these things because they don’t know. Maybe they don’t explain because there are too many conflicting opinions. Maybe they don’t want new painters to know the secret information. Maybe they think that no one cares, or everybody already knows.

Whatever the reason, there are many things I’ve wondered about in the past 6 years of oil painting.

1. Why is the word “medium” used to mean so many things?

It can mean that your painting is neither small nor large.

It can mean the stuff you are using to make your painting. “What medium do you use?” “Thanks for asking [see how polite artists can be?], I use oil”.

Finally, it can mean the stuff you use to mix with oil paint to make it flow better. “What medium do you use?” “Good question – I prefer linseed oil”.

2. Why are you supposed to use expensive artist’s linseed oil instead of a big can from the hardware store? Let me guess – it is a plot to keep art supply companies in business.

3. Does anyone truly wait an entire year before varnishing a painting? I’m not making this up – it is what the books and websites and varnish cans advise. A YEAR?! The customer wants the painting now – you think he’s going to mail it back to me from Illinois in a year so I can varnish it??

4. What are you supposed to do when your box cutter slips as you are unwrapping a new unpainted canvas and it cuts a hole in the canvas? I asked Mr. Google and came up with multiple answers from just do an easy patch to NEVER TRY THIS AT HOME!

 

 

We used to write to people to ask them for answers to questions before Mr. Google came along.

Kaweah Post Office VI, 10×10″, oil on wrapped canvas, $125, © 2012

California Poppies Oil Painting

This is another painting of California poppies, working from a photo supplied by my thoughtful and generous mailman. I painted it as an 8×10, loved it, and decided to repaint it 16×20. Practice makes perfect, someone said. It is not a commission. The 8×10 hasn’t sold yet, so maybe I am just getting ahead of myself. (Sometimes I’m just dying to paint something, and then no one else thinks it was such a good idea.)

This is after 3 layers. When this dries, I’ll add lupine.

Stay tuned – I’ll show you when it is finished!

Here is the 8×10 version:

Great Year For Poppies©2012, oil on wrapped canvas, 8×10, $90

From Pencil Drawing to Oil Painting

During Three Rivers Artists Studio Tour Ten, some folks saw the pencil drawing of Redwood and Dogwood. They liked it, but color sells better than black and white and shades of gray, and oil paintings have a greater appeal than pencil. I LOVE PENCIL. Just sayin’.

Something new happened to me as a California artist: these people asked me if I could do an 18×24″ oil painting of the pencil drawing! What a fun challenge – not sure of which photos I used, I just decided to rely solely on the pencil drawing as my reference picture.

When the tree and background were finished, it had to dry before I began the dogwood in the foreground. I don’t have nearly as much experience painting dogwood as Sequoia trees, so I pulled out some photos for that part.

I think the flowers need to be less cultivated looking. A few stray limbs will help. It might need some growing stuff on the right. The drawing has unidentified shrubs, so I may try to make something up. If it looks fake, I can just wipe it off.  (Didn’t want you to get worried!)

The pencil drawing of Redwood & Dogwood is for sale. The shopping cart doesn’t work on my website, so you can email me for information. Sigh.

A Painting is Born

I gave a 4×6 oil painting on a little board to my friend Carol. She has it in her den. Or is it a library? Maybe it is a family room. . . Anyway, it is on a lamp table in her home, and I don’t think she just put it out because I was coming over either! (Get that rude thought out of your head.)

 

It was this scene, but much smaller. Made me feel good that she likes it, and despite being a year or more old, I still like it. (Oh no, does that mean I have plateaued in my skill??) This is by Tharp’s Log, out of Crescent Meadow, in Sequoia National Park.

Carol requested another painting, a winter scene this time. (She thinks she is commissioning me, but her money is no good to me.) While I was there, she gave me the photo she’d like me to paint.

After spending 3 days cutting the boards, painting, sanding, painting, sanding, painting, and sanding, today I chose one of those little 4×6 boards. (If my retired husband is willing to use the table saw to make 1 board, might as well have several done at once. Next, I hope he is willing to paint and sand and paint and sand.)

This is how a painting is born:

First, I drew it on with a paint brush. The little building on the left is really just an informational kiosk, so it will  not be invited into the painting. Didn’t figure it out until I had it placed. Isn’t that a rough drawing? If you didn’t already know that I can draw, you’d probably have doubts.

This is the first layer. Not a bad start, but I will layer and layer and layer some more. Seems the smaller a painting is, the more care it requires. The larger it is, the sloppier I can paint, and it still looks tight and almost photographic. I don’t know if that is good or not good, but it is how I paint. And Jack White said we should all paint the way WE paint, only better.

Hunh? Well, I got it, and it made me feel more confident in my painting.

This is in Yosemite National Park. I am a California artist, so I paint California things. (Thank you, Captain Obvious!)

(Captain Obvious has to speak these things so Mr. Google will find me.)

Signed, Sealed, Delivered. . .

. . . it’s yours!

Some artists don’t like to do commission work. Maybe they don’t like to eat, either. Or maybe they aren’t very good at understanding what other people want. Maybe they are rebellious adolescents trapped in the bodies of adults.

I like commissions.

It is a fun challenge to make a visual representation from a person’s verbal description. It is very gratifying to have a happy customer at the end of a job. It is a wonderful thing to have a sale without all the will-she-won’t-she.

During the Three Rivers Artists Studio Tour Ten, several folks asked me to paint specific things for them. As a California artist, naturally I was thrilled to receive confirmation that California poppies and giant Sequoias are always a popular subject.

These poppies were unfinished, sitting on the easel, looking like little butterflies when Amy spotted them. She asked if she could buy it before it was completed. I think I said, “Um, sure!” (Hopefully I was more polished that that.) This was painted from a photograph that my very generous mailman brought to me; he’s just thoughtful like that.

Christine asked me if I thought I could get inspired to paint a Sequoia in the snow. I said, “I’m always inspired if someone wants something.” (Hopefully I was a little more polished than that.) I went through my photos, picked one, and happily dove in, well inspired and eager to do my best for Christine. She now has it and is very happy.

That’s the goal of commissions in my little business.

A California Artist Goes to Washington, Part Five

While I was in Washington working diligently on the upcoming book The Cabins of Wilsonia, I had the delightful companionship of Penny, a little black dot of a dog, whom I called “Pen Dot”. She took the edge off missing my three cats.

And here is an average view on an average morning on an average walk in Carol’s area. Those are the Olympic Mts. in the distance. (I knew you were just dying to know.)

In addition to slaving away at my upcoming book, The Cabins of Wilsonia”, we went on a yarn crawl. It is sort of like a pub crawl, but it involves yarn shops. (Bet you figured that out on your own.) Have a peek:

This had the most yarn, the most samples, the most customers, and was the friendliest.

And just when I thought there couldn’t possibly be any more new and exciting adventures, Carol pulled this out of her bag of tricks – a scooter! I laughed and laughed until my teeth hurt from the cold wind.

This was my view. The helmet didn’t make my hair nearly as horrid as the ferry. (Thank you for your concern on this matter of extreme importance.) We went off to a place to take in this view.

There might have been a tiny amount of trespassing involved. I’m not sure, and I’m not admitting anything. Just speculating.

When it was time to go home, it got sunny! This is first time I have ever had the thrill of seeing Yosemite from the air. The pilots often point out the various peaks along the way, but no one has ever mentioned Yosemite before. I just happened to look up from my knitting at the right time! Half-Dome and El Capitan show up if you study this photo.

And thus we conclude the five part series about a California artist in Washington. Working, of course. It was a business trip.

The end.

A California Artist Goes to Washington, Part Four

My trip to Washington was to learn Adobe InDesign so I can put together the upcoming book, The Cabins of Wilsonia. It was a business trip, of course. I worked very hard, of course. You’d expect nothing less of me, right?

However, it was necessary to take another ferry ride to another town to visit some of the dearest people on the planet to me. Their names are Ron and Ruth, and they have had a special place in my heart since I was 13 years old. Words fail me when I try to express my respect, love and appreciation for them, so you can just look at this photo and feel the love. Almost makes me go crybaby to see it. (bad hair, but not Ferry-hair yet.)

I was so overcome by getting to spend time with them that I spent the entire ferry ride back just marching around the top deck, around and around and around.  It got sunny again, really brilliantly sunny, freezing cold, but fabulous.

Carol taught me to make little origami stars. She taught me many things in addition to Adobe InDesign, which was the reason I went to Washington. (I have to keep saying this in case you think I was just messing around. Adobe InDesign wasn’t something that makes my blog look attractive so I have to supplement this report.)

A California Artist Goes to Washington, part three

The reason for my visit to my friend Carol in Washington was to get some focused one-on-one help in learning to use Adobe InDesign. The reason for scheduling it in April was because I figured I’d have a decent number of drawings finished for the upcoming book The Cabins of Wilsonia, which is the purpose of learning InDesign.

Or, was the purpose of going in April THE TULIPS!??

North of Seattle is a wonderful agricultural area called the Skagit Valley. (Not pronounced “skag – it” but “skaj -it”) I used to visit my uncle and aunt in that area and always felt at home because of the agriculture and because the mountains are in the east, just like Tulare County. (minus the heat, foul air, high unemployment and maybe even with fewer fat people – sure, go ahead and move there, I don’t mind! May I visit in April?)

Flower bulbs are grown commercially there. Bulbs have to flower before they can be harvested.  Of course, you have to pay to get in. There are no shoulders of the road for pulling over, and all the fields are located away from the roads anyway so even if you wanted to break the rules, there is no point. I believe Roozengaarde is the 2nd best amusement park I’ve ever visited. (The first best was in Gilroy, California, and I have forgotten the name. Again. Natalie, you listening??)

There I go with my primary color obsession again. Perhaps this is the floral interpretation of A River Runs Through It.

There were tons of people, mid-day, mid-week. I overheard one woman say, “Being cold and muddy isn’t my idea of a good time. Besides, I’d like a real toilet.” And I heard the father of a young boy say, “Stay out of the mud because we only brought one pair of pants and we paid $15 to get in here so we are NOT leaving after 2 minutes.” This California artist understands that cold and muddy are a temporary condition, well worth braving for scenes such as these. (Inspired by beauty, nay, DRIVEN by it, as you may recall from this post.)

There were still fields of daffodils that hadn’t yet faded. Those are the Cascade Mts. in the distance. (I knew you were dying to know, because I would have been.)

A good thing about all those people is that you can hand your camera to anyone without first threatening to hitchhike. (Read April 23 to understand that remark.) Most everyone hunkers down in the mud so they are surrounded by blooms.  (You’ll be happy to note that my hair has recovered somewhat from that ferry ride and my face looks better than yesterday, although you had far too much class to mention it. I had to show you the bad photo so that you’d appreciate my regular flat hair and smile.)

This is my favorite shot. I was lucky to get it just before a large purple coat entered the scene. Happy to take those cold muddy risks so you all can vicariously experience the joys of the Tulip Season.

A California Artist Goes to Washington, part two

In Washington, this California artist took her first yoga class. Being a get-‘er-dun sort of chick, I think we could have skipped the nap at the end, and possibly some of the soothing talk about erasing our minds at the beginning. (And how in the world is one supposed to “breathe with your spine”? I like using my nose to breathe, but thanks for the {useless} suggestion anyway.) On one of the poses I looked over at Carol and we were both shaking with laughter. I mouthed to her, “I can’t believe we are doing this in public!” Had to stop looking at each other to continue the moves.

I also learned how to use something on my computer called Photobooth. On Carol’s computer actually. I haven’t looked for it on mine because it causes me to laugh so much that I can’t type.

That’s some seriously bad Ferry-hair. (bit of a problem with my face too – try to be polite.)

And, of course I worked on the book The Cabins of Wilsonia, very diligent  in learning to use Adobe InDesign. (Oh be quiet!!)