Learned Much in September—9 Things

This month’s list is long, many thoughts, few photos. Settle in, and enjoy!

Food

1.Intermittent fasting for three months did not work to remove me from the category of pre-diabetes. I am discouraged, disappointed, disgusted. Dis, dis, dis. Maybe it is time to accept the reality. I hear over and over that “EVERYONE” is prediabetic, but that does not reassure me. I pursue removal from that category just in case it is the cause of peripheral neuropathy, as the neurologist is so confident about this.

2. When I was with Mrs. Texas, she did something so funny that I want to share it with you. Whenever we were eating something really extra good, she held up her hands, palms out, and said in a commanding voice, “NO TALKING.” (She said when you talk, you can’t taste things as well.)

On one occasion we decided to get ice cream. We stood there awhile, deciphering and considering the flavors, and then Mrs. Texas pointed to the price for small size dish with a single scoop—$6.75. EXCUSE ME?? Nope. We left without ice cream.

Still wanting a treat, we went to Starbuck’s because I had such curiosity about pumpkin spice lattes. I ordered a 12 oz. requesting only 2 pumps of the glorious flavored substance instead of the normal 3 pumps (the employee explained it to me—I didn’t know this from experience). Holy guacamole—I had to take it back to the house and dilute it with black coffee because it made my teeth hum. HOLY GUACAMOLE — it was $6.25!

No wonder I don’t go out to eat much. (at all)

3. Serious Eats is an interesting website with tips and information about food—articles about letting meat rest, how to really clean your kitchen sponge, never cry while cutting onions. . . and that was just the first time I went exploring on the site. (Already forgot most of what I read.)

4. Some friends said they like to drizzle olive oil and then sprinkle a little salt on vanilla ice cream. At first it sounds like ice cream abuse, but they said it was delicious.

Someone seems obsessed by food in this month’s learning. Is this a result of intermittent fasting??

Work

5. Sold five pencil drawings and no oils. WHAT IS THAT ABOUT?? I learned that I don’t know what I am doing when it comes to reading my customer base or understanding my market.

Since I didn’t sell any oil paintings, I will stop painting just for the fun of painting any particular subjects. Instead, I will accept commissions and paint sequoia trees or other subjects that stores sell for me.

Fun to learn

6. I finally toured the Point Pinos Lighthouse. (It ought to be Piños, but no one bothers with the tilde.) I learned so much about that lighthouse and lighthouses in general.

General Wisdom

7. Wisdom about anger from This Evergreen Home:

The late theologian and pastor Tim Keller once wrote that anger is energy spent defending what you love.. . .The next time you experience a bout of anger, be thankful that your brain has given you such a useful barometer into the things that you love. Take the opportunity to reflect on what makes you angry and whether those things accurately reflect the values you claim to treasure most. If not, it may be that the culture you live in has shaped you more than you realize, and that your loves have become misaligned.”

8. Getting older means loss. In the last year, I have sold my tennis racquet and my canoe, and this week I gave away my cross country skis. Tryna be realistic about my shrinking abilities to do stuff. The combination of a wrist problem and a foot problem have squeezed my limited activities even further. Never a fan of any sportsball*, the few activities I participated in didn’t require a great deal of athleticism. In actuality, I hadn’t used any of my gear for a long time. It just took awhile to face and accept this, and then figure out what to do with my unused stuff.

Maybe I should just join Pippin in the window, observing the outside world.

Wait a doggone minute here—why is that outdoor cat inside the house? Because Trail Guy is a pushover for this cat.

9. Clearly I need to face truth about my health, activity, business, and age. This wisdom is from M. Scott Peck. (When people use a first initial, does this mean they wish to be addressed by that initial? If not, then why even put it there?)

Truth or reality is avoided when it is painful. We can revise our maps only when we have the discipline to overcome that pain. To have such discipline, we must be totally dedicated to truth. That is to say we must always hold truth, as best we can determine it, to be more important, more vital to our self-interest, than our comfort. Conversely, we must always consider our personal discomfort relatively unimportant and, indeed, even welcome it in the service of the search for truth. Mental health is an ongoing process of dedication to reality at all costs. (M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled)

*team sports

Too Dark For Painting

We had an overcast day, with the typical over-promise-and-underdeliver weather forecast of rain. Oh well, at least we didn’t have lightning to worry about.

Since it was too dark to paint, I spent my working hours in the studio, drawing this pencil commission piece.

The approved sketch
The beginning

Sometimes this feels as if I am racing along at a good pace; other times it seems that I sit and stare without a clue as to how to proceed. The difficulty is the same as the Texas drawing: combining many photos into one (hopefully) coherent and believable scene.

I’ve been drawing agriculture subjects for so many years that I have forgotten many of them. I didn’t used to be diligent in photographing my work, back in the days of film cameras, weak copy machines, no home scanners or computers, and certainly no Photoshop.

An old friend sent me this card, which I wrote to her and her husband in 2001 (along with a sweet note because that is just how she is). When I flipped the card over, I saw that I titled the drawing “Tulare Cownty” and included a completely unfamiliar phone number with a 703 area code.

That was many studio locations ago. I’ve been working from home since 2002, and life has changed significantly in many ways.

One constant is still drawing agricultural scenes with pencils. Glad we can count on something to hold steady.

Back to Work, Central Calfornia Artist

With two Giant Sequoias to paint, I chose to finish, nay, ALMOST finish the painting I started in Gilroy. Why not the Sequoia paintings first? Because I missed Mrs. Texas after spending so much time together.

I think it might need a blossom or two and better definition on the closer leaves.

Because I was painting two at the same time of the same scene, and they are the same proportions, I can’t tell which photos are which paintings. So, no in-progress shots today, just a beginning and an end of the day photo of each.

The small one (6×18”)

The 10×30” painting.

This one is too tall to reach the top when it is sitting on the table-top easel, so I worked on the lower part first, then flipped it upside down to work on the top. The middle section isn’t finished.

The painting isn’t finished. I sent a photo to the customer so she can tell me if I need to add, change, or delete anything.

I am just a hired brush, using oil paints to make art that my customers can understand of places they love for prices that won’t scare them.

September in Mineral King

A recent weekend in Mineral King in photos with commentary, as usual, from your Central California artist.

The hazard tree crew returned to our neighborhood.

We had rain, both up and down the hill. It was overcast for a day or so after the rain. I wonder if this would make a good pencil drawing.

The classic view from the bridge, with Farewell Gap obstructed by the clouds.

The sun shone the next day, so Hiking Buddy, K, and I walked to Soda Springs.

Crystal Creek is still running.

See the orange? That’s where Soda Springs runs down into the creek.

It bubbles out of the ground.

Many cabin folks have a tradition of adding lemonade powder to the water, swearing that it is fizzy and delicious. It tastes like metal to me, reminding me of the drinking fountains at church camp as a kid. Ick, no thanks. K is very traditional, complete with a Sierra cup hanging on her daypack.

Here is the classic view in sunshine.

On the drive home, we were amazed by the ENORMOUS pile of road base collecting at Lookout Point for the ongoing road construction project.

Finally, here are The Potholes, still running steady and strong in September. My theory is that all the trees which used to take up water above this stream (called Squirrel Creek) burned up, so there is more water to continue flowing throughout the season.

And thus we conclude another tour of Mineral King. I’ll get back to work next week.

A Stop on the Way Home

California has 21 missions, built in the 1700s or perhaps some in the 1800s. I don’t remember all the details from 4th grade, but I still love seeing those extremely ancient buildings. I detoured slightly on the way home from Gilroy to visit the mission in San Juan Bautista. It is better cared for than when I drew 30-something years ago. (Can’t find it to show you now. . .)

Across the street was an old building. It looked Victorian, not mission style, and it had a Texas flag. Weird.

California Highway 101 used to be called “El Camino Real”, which means The King’s Highway. All along are these old bells, except now I think the ones which haven’t yet been stolen are reproductions.

I have such a sense of awe, respect, curiosity, and a bit of excitement when I get to be at buildings this old. (Prolly would pass out if I ever made it to Ireland.)

San Juan Bautista is a small agricultural town; I don’t know what is growing in the fields down there.

When walking back to Mom’s Car, I took a picture of this saggy roof. (It reminded me of our cabin.)

Time to go home and get back to work.

P.S. I painted the Carmel Mission last year when at that weeklong painting retreat. It is fancier than San Juan Bautista.

Another Beach Day

Mrs. Texas and I chose to have a second beach day, this time in Monterey. While there for a weeklong painting retreat last year, I still didn’t have enough time to do all I had hoped. One of those things was to tour the Point Pinos Lighthouse, a place I painted while perched on the hood of my car, Fernando (and then fixed/finished later in the painting workshop and sold.)

It was an overcast day, and we arrived before the lighthouse opened. So, we went to the beach.

Suddenly it was time to go to the lighthouse for a tour.

Excellent tour! So much information, so much to see, such helpful docents. I just couldn’t get enough of walking around, examining the rooms, the artifacts, the displays. This might be a sign of advancing age, sort of like bird-watching, pickleball, eating dinner at 4:30, discussing physical ailments, spending money on nutritional supplements, and watching Jeopardy. (Not that I do any of those things. . .yet, anyway.)

We weren’t allowed to go to the very top where the balcony circles the light. After the tour, I went inside and asked what that gizmo is atop the chimney, a chimney which isn’t connected to a fireplace. It isn’t a giant’s binoculars; it is a chimney cap or spark arrester, placed there when the kitchen was in that room with its woodburning stove, now in another section of the house.

Some people were setting up for a wedding as we were leaving.

The lighthouse was used as a position of defense during WWII, with Coast Guard stationed on the premises in barracks built for the purpose. They patrolled with dogs and horses. Check out this application for a dog to be part of the patrol (oops, it is blurry here):

I could just go on and on about what we learned about the lighthouse, but I think you’d click off this site. So, we went back to the beach, because we didn’t want to get stuck in traffic heading back to Gilroy. (Are we seeing a pattern here? yeppers)

Still overcast, and kind of cold
The beach was littered with jellyfish and various pieces of jellyfish. Gross but fascinating. I watched my steps very carefully, because of course I was barefooted.

Bye-bye, beach. Bye-bye, Gilroy. Bye-bye, Mrs. Texas.

Tryna be brave here.

Plein Air Painting in Gilroy

Mrs. Texas is at the edge of a pumpkin patch, a big “patch”. Okay, a pumpkin field. We mistakenly thought it was summer squash, that yellow crookneck stuff that prompted a friend of mine to say, “‘Squash’ is the past tense of ‘squish’, and ‘squish’ is not a food.” (Right on, Ben!) But pumpkins? Yes!

I took many photos, trying to see what was most pleasing. Some I took in the morning, some in the evening, some with the inferior phone camera, some with the little Canon Elph camera.

I took many more photos, and will show those next post. Meanwhile, let’s continue with the plein air process.

First, some sketches. Super scribbly, but good enough to make a decision.

Good enough for now. This took about 1-1/2 hour, and definitely needs more layers and detail. I might work on it in the painting workshop when/if the commissions get finished.

Wait, they WILL get finished. I mean if there is a gap before more commissions arrive.

The Central California Artist Went Back to Gilroy

Mrs. Texas was in California for another handful of weeks, and I felt compelled to go back to see her one more time. So, I did. (There is a lot to be said about driving a car that isn’t potentially on its last gasp.)

We did a number of wonderful things, and I even did some plein air painting! (See? a business trip!)

Since I have nothing to show you about Mineral King today, I will start with the beach.

The day I arrived, we returned to Rio Del Mar, the beach with that ruined cement party boat which used to be attached to a pier. Mrs. Texas’s mom had told her sister that she remembers dancing on that boat!

There is a weird metal rectangle in the sand.

I think there is a pier in Capitola in the very far distance, but we didn’t go to a beach there. We did go to Capitola to get groceries at Trader Joe’s because it was a good alternative to sitting in traffic on the way home.

The next day we walked by a reservoir named Uvas, which means grapes in Español. (We didn’t see any, in case you are wondering.) My inferior phone camera did a nice job there. Several of these photos could make a nice painting, but I don’t think my tens of readers/followers/collectors are into obscure reservoirs in distant counties (although I would fill the lake to the brim for better aesthetics).

Some of the oak trees had Spanish moss, the slightly creepy hanging grayish green stuff that is prevalent in the southern states.

The plaque at the entrance to the lake walk had a list of names of people who were instrumental in building the dam that created the lake. Although they were just names to me, I’m sure they matter to their descendants. I was more interested in the pertinent facts, which they so thoughtfully included with all those names.

In all honesty (because that is how I roll), I’d rather be at the beach. However, the reservoir was closer, and we had other plans that day. (Not bloggable, just friendship things, errands, blah blah blah. . .)

But I did paint that evening, and I’ll show you in the next post.

Don’t Be Scared—I Can Make These Look Good

Sequoias, Redwoods, Big Trees, Sequoia gigantea—all these words mean the trees which gave Sequoia National Park its name. Paintings of these trees sell very steadily to the visitors in our area. Sometimes it feels a little boring to keep painting the same things over and over.

When that feeling comes upon me, I think of three things: 1. I’d rather paint another sequoia tree than be a waitress; 2. Here is a chance to test and hopefully improve my skills as a painter; 3. Here is a chance to force myself to do something I don’t want to do and build more character. (COME ON, I’M ALMOST 66, CAN’T I BE DONE WITH CHARACTER YET??)

It is time for another 6×18″ painting of a Sequoia gigantea. That’s kind of a yawn for me.

It is also time for a 10×30” of a pair of redwood trees, known as Redwood Canyon, Two Sisters, and Aunt Tillie & Uncle Pete. (I’m quoting some former cabin neighbors who actually said this is how they refer to the pair of redwoods about 8 miles below Mineral King.) This one is a good challenge—big enough to really get in the detail that floats my boat, and figuring out how to put in the parts that are important to the customer while making it look believable in spite of the fact that I have to do a bit of squishing and fabricating. (Yeah, yeah, I know— “artistic license”.)

Shut up, Central California Artist, and show us some pictures!

Because the same colors are in both paintings (duh), it was easy to put them on side-by-side easels and slam out the first messy layer. Sometimes this is fun; sometimes it is just an obstacle until I get to do the details. Doesn’t matter—see reason #3 above. (Actually, it was the 2nd messy layer, the first one being a thin coating of unrecognizability.)

Yeppers, upside down. Otherwise it was too hard to reach the sky on the 30” canvas while it sat on the table.

The sketch is what I showed to the 10×30 customer. It is efficient to practice the same scene smaller in case I need to work out some design bugs. One will go to a longtime friend (the 10×30) and the other to a stranger just passing through town. (Who knows? maybe the stranger will someday become a friend too.)

Don’t be scared. I can make them both look good.

After the paintings got this far, I left them in the workshop to dry while I returned to the studio to work on the second pencil commission.

Don’t be scared. I can make this look good too.

Will the Fat Lady Sing?

Who is the fat lady? Sometimes I sing for my drawing students, not well, and we all laugh.

What am I yammering on about?

The drawing of Texas, which is too large for my scanner, so the upper edge is nipped off and the lower edge is blurry. But first, let’s look at the scratchy beginnings, because it is kind of impressive that my customers trusted me to get from that scribble of bare bones to the finished piece. (Mr. Customer said he’d have recognized it even if he hadn’t commissioned the piece!)

I was just dragging it out before showing you the scan. . . wanting a drumroll or something. . . padding the post so it isn’t so brief.

Is it finished?

The customers just responded:

We love it Jana! This will be so special to the family, for generations. Thank you so much! We wouldn’t add or take away anything—we say it’s finished!

Maybe I ought to sing to myself a little. . .