A Day on Rocky Hill

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Rocky Hill is on the edge of Exeter, California, in Tulare County, a well-known, well-loved landmark. It is the only convenient non-flat place to walk, run, or bikeride in the area, and there is a perpetual stream of foot and bicycle traffic up the road. The entire hill is private property, so all the activity takes place on the county road that goes over the saddle between Badger Hill and Rocky Hill.

Rocky Hill has many many Indian pictographs (and lest you get your knickers in a twist about “Indians”, the Native Americans I know prefer to be referred to as “Indians”). On the south side of the hill, 30 acres belong to a conservancy, and occasionally there are tours to view the pictographs. We had the privilege of participating in a tour on last Thursday.

Alas, it is forbidden to post photos of the pictographs on the interwebs. So, you get to see some scenery instead.

Rocky Hill is very rocky. It could be called Boulder Hill.

These are not pictographs; they are mortars, so I am showing you. (so there)

This is the fruit of a wild cucumber. The seeds provided the binders for the pigment used to paint on the rocks.

Lichen isn’t paintings so I photographed it.

Clover. I love wildflowers.(Did you know that?)

Boulders.

The view of Moses Mountain distracted me from the paintings.

The Farmer and Trail Guy were good listeners. Or maybe they were wondering when we could go eat lunch. We are not used to traveling in a pack or being told to stay together. Hiking Buddy was there too, along with other people we know and a few we did not.

I liked this view out from one of the caves we entered.

And then it was time for lunch, which was a private party that I’ll tell you about tomorrow.

 

Planning, Hoping, Dreaming, Wishin’ and Wantin’

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“Planning, Hoping, Dreaming” reminds me of something Beth Moore has said, “Are you wantin’ and wishin’ instead of believin’ and receivin’?”

Indeed.

Someone Important told me last August that he was looking for a muralist. He’d been talking to an artist who didn’t return calls and was frustrated by the lack of response. He told me I could have the job.

Coolio.

I went to the location, measured, photographed, and discussed the project with the person who worked at the location. Purposely vague here, but more will be revealed.

Then I got to thinking, sketching, writing up notes, designing. Oh yes, this could be very excellent!

When I had some good ideas, three, each one a different size and price because I had no idea of the budget, I called Mr. Important Someone. Nothing. Left another message. Silence, or as the current cliché goes, “crickets”.

I saw Mr. Important Someone in October, and I whapped him on the arm with the stack of papers in my hand. “Mr. Someone, you have not returned my calls, and I have good ideas to share with you.” 

He had reasons (very busy, because he is Important), and was remorseful, charming, and engaging, which has probably contributed to his being Someone Important.

The cricket fest continued, until April 6, when I got an arts newsletter with a Call to Artists to bid on the project that Mr. Someone had all but promised me.

Sigh.

I am really wishin’ and wantin’, while planning, hoping and dreaming, all ready to believe and receive.

This sort of enterprise is part of the the business of art, lots of conversation until money exchanges hands. The deadline to submit a proposal is April 26; a decision will be reached sometime in May.

Stay tuned. Photos will follow IF I am chosen for the project. (Maybe even if I am not, and then you all can tell me where I went wrong.)

1997 Coming Back to Haunt Me

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A few weeks ago, I got a real letter in the real mail from a real person. She said my phone wasn’t working (this is common), nor was my email (also common), so she resorted to old fashioned means of communicating, which I believe to be superior in many ways, but that isn’t a topic for this post. (You can read about such things here.)

She was part of something called The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation, and they ran out of the 1000 notecards of my pencil drawing of their building. (That’s a burn rate of 38 cards per year, in case you are curious). The foundation wanted more cards.

Back in 1997, I didn’t have much of a computer, nor did I have a digital camera or a scanner. The only record I kept of my work was an occasional photocopy, a slide (remember Kodachrome?), or if the customer had cards or prints made, I’d keep an extra.

The printing company I used back then is out of business, and even if they weren’t, they certainly wouldn’t still have the plates and negatives used 26 years ago (that’s how offset printing use to be accomplished).

I called her, since obviously my email isn’t speaking to her email, and asked her for the original. 

Oh-oh. No one knows where it is. We had a great visit, then she told me that her cousin would take over the project.

Her cousin and I had many phone conversations, with lots of ideas batted around to figure out how to get more cards without having the original, and more ideas about where to look for it (the foundation balked at paying me to draw the hotel again), and we reached an impasse. 

Then I had an idea. I went rooting around in my many stacks, boxes, drawers, and binders of old cards and prints, and sure enough, I found the Green Hotel.

I scanned and photoshopped it into printing shape, since printing something with an ivory background will not yield good results.

A few more phone conversations, many undeliverable emails and lots of various attempts, and finally, finally, this drawing was in the determined and capable hands of The Green Hotel Restoration Foundation.

Then I wrote a copyright release letter and an invoice for the photoshop work. This wasn’t what one could refer to as highly profitable in terms of monetary gain, but I sure did enjoy talking to these two dynamic women, devoted to history, determined to get a thing accomplished, and very quick-minded.

To top it all off, Cousin Lady lives across the street from my brother-in-law’s parents former home, so despite being in a county to the south of Tulare County, the small-world-ness of my little life is alive and well.

Sometimes I am a Non-Profit Company

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Some days it is a real struggle to find time to paint because of all the non-art-making tasks associated with being a professional artist, a one-woman show, a solo act, a Jana of all trades, and small potatoes.


This is what filled my day a few weeks ago, most work related, and none of it actually for profit. 

  1. Someone sent me an email wondering if an artist’s proof from a reproduction run of Farewell Gap prints was worth anything. Yeppers, it is worth whatever anyone is willing to pay for it. This required a bit of rooting around to see how many prints I made, some guesswork about when I did it, and a lot of thought in a couple of emails. (And I had to blog about it, because it was both mildly interesting and informative.)
  2. I got a handwritten letter in the real mail about a place called the Green Hotel in a small town in Kern County. This is because neither my email nor my phone would give me my messages from the correspondent. The letter turned into a series of phone calls and emails, with me instructing the folks what would be necessary to reproduce notecards when the original has vanished. (This might warrant its own blog post.)
  3. The gallery/museum where I teach drawing lessons (CACHE) has applied for a grant. Because it will be a possible source of money for murals inside the museum, and because I am a Typo Psycho, I helped with editing and proofreading. Our highly esteemed president of CACHE put zillions of hours into this, with an understanding of how to write appealing content for grants, and I concluded that if CACHE doesn’t receive the grant, the judges are stupid, biased, or there is just a great deal of tomfoolery involved. (What, me biased??)
  4. My colored pencil artist friend Carrie Lewis puts out a weekly newsletter, a free publication with helpful information for colored pencil artists. Because no one can proof her own writing and because she is overloaded with many other tasks, I proofread this weekly for her.
  5. The upcoming big murals at the largest Catholic church in North America have been on hold. Finally, the project manager said I might be able to begin soon. This meant rewriting the contract, checking prices that have risen since we began the process in October, updating terms based on new information. 
  6. Finally, on a day that much of this was happening, we had an electrical problem. When the electricity went out, I had to go to the neighbor’s house to wait for the electrician to call me on the cell phone. We don’t have cell service at home; use of the cell requires using wifi, which requires electricity. So, with all this work to do, I took my knitting over to my friend’s house and sat in the sunshine.That was a busy day, lots of work, all of it not-for-profit. But sometimes an artist has got to do what she’s got to do.

 

Following up on Earlier Subjects

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Does “following up” mean finishing? Concluding? Completing? Then why don’t we say that instead?

Sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in words.

  1. Remember in the Learned in March post that I showed you chocolate navels? This is how they look on the inside.
  2. Remember seeing this table in progress?This is how it turned out.
  3. Did I mention anything about going around the neighborhood with clippers and buckets to pick wildflowers? This is how they were used.
  4. Still nothing to report on the two murals in the courtyards at St. Charles, the largest Catholic church in North America, in Visalia, where I was asked to paint some murals back in October. I redid the contract to reflect the increase in mural paint prices and the customer’s request that I train someone to paint a third mural, someone who doesn’t speak English or have experience. The saga continues. . .

Early Morning Walk in Three Rivers

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This stunningly beautiful spring in Three Rivers isn’t over yet. We’ve had no hot days, and although it might have been warm enough one day for the rattlesnakes to emerge, I haven’t seen any or heard any reports. So, instead of blathering on about using pencils, oil paint and murals to make art that you can understand of places and things you love for prices that won’t scare you, let’s go on another walk. (See how I did that?)

This is BLM (Bureau of Land Management) property about a mile above my house. Because the two footbridges washed out, there isn’t much traffic up there, which makes it the way I remember it before people started slapping it all over the interwebs and turning it into a popular place. (Mine, mine, all mine!)

Back along the road, the brodiaea were thick. These are also called “wild hyacinth” and “blue dicks”.

These are a miniature version of lupine. They look like Texas bluebonnets which are just a variety of lupine.

This one is in my yard: fiesta flower.

A resident of Tulare County might wonder why one remains here, with all the smog, “nothing to do”, high unemployment, high welfare, low education, fat people, high teen pregnancy, lack of a Trader Joe’s. However, if one is in Three Rivers in the spring after a wet winter, one might wonder why more people don’t live here.

Don’t move here, okay? You will hate it, especially in the summer. On the other hand, if you buy a house here, please do move here because there are more than enough vacation rentals in town.

Now, I might need to go pull some weeds.

Fifteen Years of Blah-blah-blah Blogging

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Today is not about art.

Tomorrow marks FIFTEEN YEARS of blogging, five days a week. Day after day, blah blah blah, this is what I do, what I did, what I’m planning to do, yadda yadda yadda, I went here, saw this, and did that, want to buy some art/a book/some cards? I learned something, I have questions, I have thoughts.

“Blog”. Weird word. This is an online journal, a log on the web, a web log, web-log, weblog, blog.

And I can’t seem to stop.

Today is not about art. It is just showing you some photos from my life, which seems normal to me, but is probably peculiar to you.

I took my car, Fernando, for an oil change. While Mark from Foreign Auto (559-734-8285, Honda, Toyota, Lexus, and Acura only) was taking care of Fernando, I walked to downtown Visalia. Mill Creek is flowing. This is what keeps those valley oaks alive. Quercus lobata is the name of these oaks, the largest in the country. (There is a black and white cat in the first picture.)

The next day, Trail Guy and I climbed up on the bank behind the house to cut a dead live oak. Doesn’t that sound weird? “Dead live oak”.

It felt wrong to smash the wildflowers.

My job was to help get the wood down to the neighbor’s driveway so we could load it into the back of the pick’em-up truck. Mostly I dragged, endoed, or rolled the heavy limbs so Trail Guy could  use his superior strength to pitch them off the hill.

And then my work was done, so I went ogling things in bloom in the yard. Some years I miss this calla lily, but everything is slower this year so I caught this guy in its prime. It is called Dragon Arum. Finally learned, using a plant identification app called PictureThis. It is free but tries to trick you into subscribing by hiding the word “Cancel” in the upper righthand corner, almost invisible.

And that’s all I have for today, another glorious cool green flowery spring day in Three Rivers when I am supposed to be working but keep finding interesting things to do instead.

Thank you for listening, reading, looking, hanging around, commenting, caring, being there all these years!

P.S. Happy Birthday, Hiking Buddy! I mailed you a card yesterday, but it might have to go to Santa Clarita first. Could have walked it to you faster, but you know about my feet these days. . . May you be warmed and filled today.

Three Versions of the Favorite Scene

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Version One

Mr. Customer gave me permission to show his 12×36″ commissioned oil painting in progress on the blog.

Version Two

This 10×20″ oil painting has been hanging around (literally), waiting its turn at the easel. It is just part of the series I began back in February to build up the inventory of my favorite subject in a variety of sizes and shapes.

Hmmm, I think I may have overdone the size exaggeration of Castle Rocks.

Version Three

This 18×36″ oil painting is one that is destined to hang in the dining area of my house, IF I ever complete it and IF it doesn’t sell (because I can always paint another one).

Thus we conclude eensy progress on three oil paintings of the best things about living in Tulare County in the spring, after a wet winter, when there is snow on the mountains, fruit on the trees, green on the hills, and gratitude and happiness in my heart.

Interesting Inquiry

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Recently, I got this email:

Hello –
I have an artist proof -pencil drawing of Farewell Gap by Jana M. Botkin –
It is approximately 11 “ x 13 “ —
I would like to know the value –
Attached is pics —

Thank you ,

(name, which I have left off for privacy purposes)

This is the picture she showed me (but hers was an artist’s proof):

Oh. Ick.  This is my reply to her:

Thank you for asking. I drew that in about 1987 and had about 100 reproduction prints made, which allowed me to add 10 to the run as “artist’s proofs”. These reproductions only have the value that people assign to them, and since I am not dead (yet!), please don’t view it as anything other than a piece of paper with a reproduced drawing of the most popular view in Mineral King.

When I looked further, I saw that I only had 50 prints made, which means only 5 could have been designated as “artist’s proofs”. I sent her another email to correct my mistake.

Maybe I should have offered to buy it from her, and then run it through my shredder. 

She sent a second email, asking if an artist’s proof is worth more than a numbered print. I told her the same thing as before: such items are only worth what another person is willing to pay for it.

This is my most recent drawing of the same scene; you can see why I am cringing when faced with the old one.

Blessings on all you lovely kind people who bought my art back then.

Somewhere North of Tahoe, Explained

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By “Somewhere North of Tahoe, Explained”, I mean the painting, not the location. Having received permission to show you the photos supplied by the customer, I thought you might like seeing what I had to work with and the final outcome, all together in one post.

The first photo is too dark but has a dramatic sky, snow on the distant peaks, and the meadow portion is green. The second shows better detail so that I can understand the landscape.

Both appear to have been taken using a wide-angle lens. This means that distant mountains seem farther and smaller than they probably look in person. 

Neither photo is the same proportions as the final painting needed to be.

Since both photos seem to have been taken from the same spot, I figured the log must be an important element. I can tell that the close shrubs are sagebrush, and the distant shrubs across the meadow are probably willows.

Most of my guesses are based on having painted similar scenes of Mineral King, but because they are guesses, I did this sketch for the customers to approve, or improve so it suited their vision.

I got lucky on two counts: 1. they liked everything; 2. they weren’t scared off by the scribbly sketch.

You saw all the steps; here is the gussied up photo when it was dry enough (and sunny enough) to take one for my records. (For some reason, the meadow appears fluorescent here, but fear not, it looks fine on the painting).The painting was picked up by the customer on Saturday. She sent me this photo of it in place.What a terrific solution for a window that looks out onto someone else’s cobwebby wall!From this:

To this:
.