By “odd jobs”, I mean unusual requests from people simply because I might be the only artist they know. I am also an artist who tells the truth (“Nope, can’t do that!”), doesn’t overcharge (“I’ll aim for 3 hours at $30/hour and if the job isn’t finished, I’ll call you for Plan B” —Reply: “Only $30 an hour??” — me in my head: “Phooey, the last time I quoted a job at that price, the person said I was too expensive!”), and returns phone calls (“Send me photos and I’ll let you know if I can do this”).
Odd Job #1
This was a request to paint a sign for the Baptist church on the backside of a church member’s own sign, a traveling sign to be used if the church sets up a booth or an exhibit at a community event, such as the upcoming bridge lighting.
The job required a great deal of measuring, sketching on paper, taping, guessing, writing with blue chalk, then erasing and rewriting, all before painting. I am not a sign painter, so this will best be viewed from the back of a fast horse when completed. I didn’t set up the final version to photograph for you because I did NOT want the paint to run. (Besides, I didn’t want anyone else to ask me to paint a sign.)
Odd Job #2
Ignacio brought me his small resin deer to paint. It was really hard to guess an accurate price, so we decided that I’d paint the front, and if I hadn’t used up his budget, then I’d paint the back. If the budget was used up, then the back would simply be a solid brown color.
I scooted the deer to the edge of the workshop, opened the doors for better light on a cold and overcast day (we went from summer to winter in about a 2 day time period this year), and started messing with colors. He isn’t pinkish in real life; thank you for your concern for Little Bucky’s masculinity.
I wasn’t sure of the colors – where it is light, where is it dark, etc., so I turned around to see.
Yo. Could you please rotate for me so I can see your tail?
After tossing a few acorns to get this doe to rotate, I was able to see the colors on the backside.
Thanks. You can go now.
Then I worked on Little Bucky until my hands got too cold, my nose ran, and I couldn’t rotate him without smearing paint. The face will have to wait, as will the odd pieces of resin at his feet, along with his ears, tail tip and antlers.
Do artists in other places get asked to do these odd jobs? It might just be the privilege of being an artist in the small rural foothill town of Three Rivers in Tulare County.
