Author: cabinart

Piños Point Lighthouse was pulling me, just like that Rocky Creek Bridge. I love architecture and really like to paint (and draw) a blend of man-made and God-made subjects.

The trouble was that the lighthouse has very limited hours. By the time I finished painting at Lover’s Point Park, there were only 1-1/2 hours hour left when the lighthouse would be open. Since it cost to get in, I didn’t think such a limited time was worth the money—by the time I got set up and really into the painting, it would be time to go. So, I drove around looking for a few different views.

I finally found a place next to the adjoining golf course with the lighthouse in the distance. It isn’t perched on the cliffs, but is back a ways. You can see it isn’t ideal, but sometimes an artist has to do what she has to do.

This time I decided to draw directly on the canvas panel, to save some time.

Now, where will I put my little stool? There is no space, and it makes me too low. My main limitation (besides finding a parking place) was that when I sit, there are often shrubs blocking the view. In this case, it was a picket fence.

AHA! I will sit on Fernando’s hood, a less than ideal situation, but remember, sometimes an artist has to do what she has to do.

I got a few basics down, and realized it was ridiculous to paint that way. The slant of the hood (“HEY! Get back here, paintbrush/palette knife/palette/paper towel!”) along with the wind raging from the ocean behind me made it untenable. So, I took some photos to use later.

Forget this. I am a studio painter, and I need to sit quietly and look at my photos to complete this painting. I returned to Asilomar and set up in the living room of the lodge where I was staying.

Alrighty then! I like this, and will like it better when I detail it to pieces.

This was a good way to end my 6 days of painting at Fall Color Week at Asilomar. I will show you some other parts of the week in a few more blog posts.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . .

Five days of painting plein air should have built some skill and some confidence. I learned two things: I paint better alone, and I paint better when there is no sense of being rushed. So, I headed to a place called Lover’s Point Park in downtown Pacific Grove.

I skipped the morning Rah-rah meeting—fun, painting tips, instructions but a waste of good painting time, left earlyish in my own car, and found a perfect parking place in the shade. It was close to a wall where I could sit with the borrowed easel box on my lap and my stuff on the wall next to me. Before setting up, I walked around a bit to choose a location. Yes, I was influenced by the proximity to Fernando (my car).

Next, a sketch. Choosing a view and doing these sketches reminds me of choosing something from a dinner menu at a great restaurant. Anything is great, so there’s no need to spend a lot of time dithering.

This’ll do.

Let’s go!! I felt confident enough to paint 11×14″, knowing that no one was waiting for me to finish, and not getting all bowed up about how fast the light was changing. I also didn’t overhear anyone else talking about “gorgeous light”, “yummy colors”, or “a pop of color”, or how they needed to “scrape” their painting because it was awful. All this chitchat stresses me out, although I can’t say exactly why that is.

It’s always good to step back, something that’s a bit harder to do when sitting with an easel box in one’s lap.

Might be good to photograph the scene again.

I kind of like this one, but still think I can do better in the studio. It was a fun place to paint, with lots of people stopping by to admire or ask questions. I talked to 3 little kids who all love to draw, and gave each one a business card, “free art”.

The fog came in thick. We had planned to go to Big Sur, and took the chance that the fog would have cleared.

Nope. Our hope was to go the viewpoint just north of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, where a big deal painter named Bill told us to go in order to paint his favorite view of any place on the coast around Monterey. We could see exactly nothing.

I asked Roomie if she knew what was special about it, and she said it is the only place in California (or the west coast? or the world??) where a waterfall hits the ocean.

Move on, folks. Nothing to see here.

We were tired, had a lot of things scheduled that day including the evening, and didn’t want to hoof it down the trail lugging out painting gear, risk it looking too foggy, only to have 2 hours before we had to head back (we were maybe 1-1/2 hours from Asilomar).

We leaned over a bridge in the park to look at the stream which becomes the waterfall.

These are sequoia sempervirens, not our sequoias, which are sequoia gigantea.

Painting-wise, it was a disappointing day. No bridge, no Big Sur view, only one painting. But Roomie and I enjoyed each other’s company and enjoyed the drive. The last time I was on that road was on foot, in April of 2010. A friend and I walked the Big Sur 21-Miler. It was awesome! (The photos look a little weird in that post because WordPress is like every other tech platform, always updating, which we all know is a euphemism for “complication”.)

Day 5 was scheduled for painting at Rocky Creek/Rocky Point, and Rocky Creek bridge, which is shaped like the Oak Grove Bridge (but built 10 years later.) We drove to Rocky Point Restaurant, which is closed, but has a decent parking lot and some trails out to the point.

Looks easier than waves.

Better do a sketch first to see if all is well with this arrangement (“composition” in Artspeak). Yeppers, I can really draw, but little sketches like this serve as a map for how I hope the painting will turn out. I made the water area larger than it actually appeared while I was perched on my little stool, feet propped on a rock.

This one felt like a slog. I really wanted to paint that bridge, but it was tiny in the distance and barely visible in the mist and morning sun. I hadn’t driven so I couldn’t go looking for a better spot, and Roomie’s car was a rental so I couldn’t borrow it. Nobody was heading back to Asilomar so that I could get my car, so I just buckled down to work.

There was a crew of about 3 guys working. “What are you doing?” “Collecting seeds to rehab”. I learned later that the rehab project was paid for by a private individual. They were getting the fuzz from coyote bush, and one other that they didn’t know the name of in English.

Oh-oh, here comes the fog.

Bye-bye, view. Guess I’ll have to finish this from memory.

The view was gone-zo, just like the easel that I broke up with on Monday. I guess everyone out there on the point were also painting from memory.

Someone named Ryan Something-or-other was painting the painters while making a video about plein air painting.

I’m guessing it will be available for sale on Streamline Publishing in a few months.

I thought this lady looked kind of neato painting in the fog.