If you subscribe to my blog, you probably received an email last night about a new post. It is scheduled to publish on Friday, but I hit the wrong button. Then I immediately rescheduled it. So, you may have read Friday’salready (or you may have no idea at all what I am talking about here!)
Yesterday was a day of painting oranges. The challenge was to separate the trees from one another as they diminish toward the distance. It was a little boring to photograph each step, so let’s start with how it looked the day before yesterday.
Before
I got a little bogged down so moved to the label.
I could hear my internal coach saying, “HEY! Paint from back to front!” So I began working on the oranges on the right side. That side is noisier and colder (the wind comes around the corner) and darker with those peculiar fruitless mulberry trees that are still holding their leaves.
Thus we conclude Day Six. I won’t be back to paint until a week from tomorrow.
Sky and mountains are the farthest away, and I think they are finished. Next closest is the orange grove. Oy vey, those leaves!
Very very cold day. The garbage truck went up and down the street about 8 times. There were roosters crowing. The little pickup with the giant stereo pulled in across the street and this time he shut off the “music”. I saw the normal 2 or 3 cats, and the handful of little dogs that trot around with purpose. The county supervisor stopped by and I also talked to a group of women who were meeting in the library, a man named Ruben, and a neighbor, who reassured me that the recent murder was a family dispute and took place on the bad side of town, not where we are.
Good to know.
Today I might paint oranges on the trees. Or dirt on the ground. The ground on the painting, not the muddy ground I stand on to paint.
Intern returned, so we studied the wall together and discussed the next step. He put a base coat on Twin Buttes, and I worked on the mountains south of Alta Peak, since I got a few semi-helpful photos on Friday.
Together we mixed the color of the background of the packing label. Intern was SHOCKED that I painted the two oranges on the label before the background. Together we peeled back the masking tape, and he did a great job while I kept figuring out the mountains and a facsimile of Venice Hill. This is an odd group of hills just east of Ivanhoe, not exactly visible from town but definitely a landmark. I just made it up, because it looks different from every vantage point.
When I was satisfied with the distant mountains and fake Venice Hill, I began tinkering with the last inset, the auditorium of the Ivanhoe School back in the last century when I attended school there.
Intern was so cold that his teeth were chattering, so I told him that he had done enough for the day and sent him home. He was very helpful in many ways, and I also was able to teach him some helpful things about perspective and portraiture. Although he is a college student taking art classes, the instruction is insufficient. That’s how it was when I was in college too, and it is why I love helping people learn to draw.
The orange leaves have been troubling me. I know they will be delineated in the closer branches and trees, and be less clear when farther away. I can paint orange trees in oil and draw them in pencil, but using acrylic paint on a wall is just confounding me, handcuffing me so that I cannot figure out how to paint orange leaves. So I got a little help with them from a fellow muralist in the form of some texted photos and tried again. This time I just started with the farthest trees, hoping that I’ll figure out how to detail the closer ones.
After painting awhile, I stood back to see if the 2 halves of the mural make sense together. This caused me to jump over to the right side and rearrange the rows a bit, then begin texturing the distant trees.
After 6 hours of standing in the cold and the mud, I was ready to quit. So, I tried the combination on the trailer locks and was able to figure out how to open the thing. I carried my crates and stepladder to the opposite side of the library from the mural and put them in the ridiculously oversized trailer. Can you say “overkill”?
I have been asking for months to be given a key to the library so I can stash 2 ladders (now down to needing only one) and 3 crates of paint (now down to only 2), and to have access to water and to a facility. Instead of doing this apparently easy thing, they hauled in this giant trailer, parked it far from the mural, and I have no access to either water or a bathroom.
They’re from the government and they are here to help me.
I am able to make process in spite of this “help”.
Intern had other obligations, so I was on my own again. First things first: what is that little doghouse on a post, secured in a tire? I sent a photo to the previous librarian for the answer.
She replied thus: “It was a community event that we kept seeds and but of course it didn’t last by a week”. I concluded 2 things: 1. Even librarians don’t proofread their texts and 2. It was a failed experiment for sharing seeds (the current librarian said someone tore the door off immediate. . . sigh.) I guess that people who garden already have a network for seed sharing. I wonder how it can be used.
I unloaded the car next. After lugging the 3 crates of paints for 2 painting days, I realized that the gallon buckets aren’t necessary. I can refill the jars at home when necessary. Still have to haul water, because there is no faucet available. I do not have access to the library on the days it is closed, and the storage closet is more trouble than the trunk of my car or the back of the pickup. The county hauled a trailer to the site, supposedly for me, and my stuff will only occupy about 1/100th of the space!
It was cold, and I couldn’t figure out where to start. (What the temperature has to do with indecision is an unsolved mystery.) When I don’t know what to do, I pick something easy. Time to mix orange paint (because I work from the primaries, I mix my own colors. )
I must have taken these photos while standing around, trying to figure out where to begin.
Finally, I decided to just focus on the far left edge. Get some oranges in place, build a few leaves around them.
I walked to the edge of the library yard and picked a leaf from the neighbor’s citrus tree. This reassured me that my greens are mostly okay while slapping me with the reality that my leaves are coming up insufficient. The orange paint is transparent and will take multiple coats.
Still bumbling around, fumbling along, so I tried the smudgepots.
Never mind. Entirely the wrong size, completely unacceptable. Maybe I’ll just tackle the orange label. I know! I’ll fill in the triangle between the insets and fill in the areas of dirt that were previously taped off.
Is that sunshine?? It is!!
Maybe instead of trying to do perfect leaves on the far left which are supposed to look close, I’ll just work on the distant more vague trees.
That label was calling my name, and I didn’t want to waste the bright orange paint on the palette paint bucket lid.
Ooh, that is looking fine. Fine! Finally, something is working. (See all that mud? It ends up in the feet of the ladder and the shoes of the artist.)
The hills behind are supposed to bring to mind Venice Hill, a geographical oddity in the vicinity, and also start delineating the trees in the row on the right.
A few interesting things on Friday: I met Cuco from the public utilities/waterworks, who told me of a tank they might want a mural on; met Melé from across the street who used to draw and whose son is interested in art; someone in the neighborhood has a stereo with bass that almost shook my two fillings loose (I’ll be taking earplugs next time); a group of women crocheted together in the library in the morning; the library will soon activate a computerized machine where reserved books can be retrieved by scanning one’s library card; still no key provided for access to storage and facilities but by George, there is a locked trailed on the opposite side of the liberry, just waiting for my use (IF anyone provides the combination to the locks.
This project progress took place before I started the mural on the Ivanhoe library.
This might be the first time I have ever put a canvas on the drawing table and measured out exactly where everything is supposed to go.
When I had enough pencil guidelines on the canvas, I took it out to the painting workshop and set it up on the easels with the sketch for reference. The hard work of designing from the stack of photos all taken from different angles in different eras of the house was finished, so I needed to trust the approved sketch.
The first layer needs to be thin, or in ArtSpeak, “Paint lean to fat” (this means that the artist should thin the first layer of paint with turpentine and gradually add more oil— “fat” — with each successive layer. (When I first hear this, I was slightly offended, thinking that it was commentary on my body type. . .)
I worked from back to front, which means sky first, since it is the farthest away.
I didn’t get too concerned with mixing exact colors at this stage. . . “Closies count (except in hand grenades and horseshoes.)”
I tried to stay in the lines. This is a new method of painting for me. I’ve done a few of these architectural type paintings before, but this one feels more important to get exactly right. I wonder if it is the long distance relationship; most likely it is the exactitude with which Mr. J. has described so much about this house.
The sky looks as if there is a flat mountain ridge, but that is because I primed the canvas before I knew exactly how this scene was going to be arranged. The many layers will cover that “ridge”.
I sent this photo to Mr. J. and he was pleased. It needs some drying time before I cover everything again, with paint that isn’t as thin, and paying more attention to the correct colors and details.
Brrr, BRRR, and BRRR! In driving the 35 miles down to the mural yesterday, I learned that the defroster in Momscar* is INSTANTLY effective, and I actually used the seat warmer, which seems like an ultra luxurious feature. Now I just need to figure out which button makes heat land on my feet.
Step by Step on Day Two
I took MomsCar so instead of just working off the tailgate of the good pick-em-up truck, I unloaded everything on the curb. (This is the curb of the driveway, not the actual road.)
Next, I had to satisfy my curiosity about that box on a pole.
No idea.
It is overwhelming to look at all that needs to be done, so I just eased into it. First, I removed the tape on the outside of the left inset.
Then I retaped it on the inside of the inset.
Because I paint from back to front and the sky is mostly finished (might add wispy clouds later), I mixed some “purple mountains majesty” color.
Starting on the left side, working my way south.
I had to keep standing back to see if it was believable. My goal was to make the mountains accurate, but I can’t seem to get a photo of how the range looks from Ivanhoe because of the overcast. My one good photo only goes from Alta Peak north. So, I just painted a first coat on the second half, getting Sawtooth in place. I will finish the mountains after I get some better photos.
Next, the upper edge of leaves. That was confusing because I am interpreting multiple photos, trying to make it believable. I alternated among 3 greens and used a tiny hint of orange. I’m not sure what the best approach is yet, but I have plenty of real estate in which to solve this problem.
I also placed a few of the closer oranges by circling the placement.
I moved to the upper right leaves, and then I was just too cold to continue. Here is the final shot of the day.
Then I filled in the channel left unpainted by the masking tape around the left inset.
The leaves didn’t look right to me, so on the way home I took a few photos.
*Mom gave me her car, and after a few months of adjusting to the fanciness of a 4-door, 6 cylinder, automatic, I still think of it as her car. Thus, the current name of Momscar.
I have some other obligations and work responsibilities so won’t be back on the wall until Friday.
Calendar available here, $25 includes postage (and I’ll eat the sales tax if you are in California.)
I got to the library at 8:45 to survey the lay of the land. Muddy. Significant log. Big roots to NOT trip over. What’s that weird little box on a pole? Could it be a Little Free Library, right here at the library?
After I unloaded the ladders, I realized that the wall was full of spiderwebs and dust.
When I was almost finished wiping it down, the representative from the Arts Consortium showed up, along with my intern. There was a little bit of paperwork; I gave Intern some jazz about not being able to sign his name in cursive, and Rep had to tell him that his last name initial was needed. (“Kids these days. . . sigh”, thought the old artist.)
Intern was helpful. I was able to teach him a little about starting a mural, using various tools, deciding the order to proceed. He learned about measuring and translating the scale of 1/2” = 1’, along with using a plumb line and a square.
We started with measuring the wall, to be certain that the measurements and proportions matched the approved design. Next, we taped off the insets.
Intern wasn’t dressed for painting, but he was really careful, and we painted the skies.
Intern was a hungry cold boy, so he left for lunch and I began the green base coat.
When he returned after his lunch, we finished the green and I painted some dirt base coat.
What will I do today? I will be on my own, because Intern has end-of-term projects to complete. The library will be open some of the hours that I am working, so I will be able to store my equipment and supplies until Friday. But they don’t open until 10, so I will be starting later on Friday.
The logistics of this job are rather intricate and challenging. I’m not surprised, because it took 3 years from when the county supervisor asked me to paint this mural until I am actually on the job.
After my conversation with customer Mr. J about all the special things on his former house, I did a new sketch, this time a bit more careful with all the details. Usually a loose sketch works for oil paintings, but this job requires more.
Mr. J requested that I send him the two sketches when the painting is finished. This is something I usually offer to customers, so I said “of course!”. Then I thought he might need to see how they actually look—two 4-1/4 X 5-1/2” sketches on a piece of 8-1/2 X 11” paper from my printer. (We used to call this “typing paper”.)
I worked a bit more on the first one, just so it doesn’t look radically sloppier than the second one.
After that, I took a few photos of it on the table, arranged more neatly than how things actually look while I am working, because although I don’t participate on Facebook or Instagram or any of those things, good effort in photos has always been important to me.
Then, why not just show the long distance Mr. J. a bit more of my studio and view?
Mr. J is very pleasant to work with, and we are enjoying getting to know one another. Fortunately he isn’t in a hurry, because I have the other custom oil painting, a mural to paint, and I had that show last weekend. Plus we had rainy days, which make it a little too dark to see well enough to paint well.
Soon, I will begin the painting. I’m a little nervous, but in a good way, the kind of nervous that makes me ultra careful.
The wonder of the interwebs has brought me a customer that I most likely will never have the pleasure of meeting in person. Let’s call the customer Mr. J. Mr. J and I have gotten acquainted in the comment section of The Frugal Girl blog, and he asked me to paint the home he used to own. “Used to own” means that getting photos is now a bit tricky. New owners almost always make changes, so I am working from several photos, all taken from different viewpoints and at different times in the home’s existence.
Mr. J is a very precise communicator, responsive, specific, and always willing to email, text or talk on the phone.
The project began with an email almost a year ago. We discussed canvas sizes and prices. Mr. J wanted to wait until spring to get photos with certain plants in bloom. Spring came and went with no photos. I’ve learned through the decades that until money exchanges hands, it is simply conversation. I didn’t bug him, knowing that he is a person who will follow through when he is ready.
This past summer, or perhaps early fall, he sent me photos and a deposit check for half down, so we were in business.
Looking through multiple photos taken from different angles, in different seasons, and at different times in the house’s life, I started with a colored pencil sketch, which I scanned and emailed for feedback.
Mr. J sent it back to me in this form: black and white, covered with notes.
I studied it, and realized we needed to have a conversation. We talked quite awhile, and I made lots of notes. The conversation was very helpful in understanding things that made no sense in the multiple photographs.
When I realized the degree of detail that Mr. J wants, I suggested a pencil drawing. He was unsure, because the finished piece will be displayed with other paintings of other buildings. I sent examples of my detailed architectural drawings, and a week or two later, he replied that oil was his preference.
Before I finished layering the background things, I blew off any discipline about painting, ignored conventional wisdom about The Way You Are Supposed to Paint, and I launched into detailing.
When I draw, I work from top to bottom, left to right. This way I don’t rest my hand on finished parts, thus not smearing graphite around. So, in spite of generally painting from back to front (the farthest away thing like the sky first, moving forward toward the closest objects), sometimes I resort to drawing with my paintbrush in places where there are enough layers to warrant the detail. This means the left side of the canvas might start looking pretty good while the middle and the right side still resembles a dog’s breakfast.
I couldn’t see very well with the doors open and bright light behind the canvas, so I rotated it. Hence, the colors appear to have changed. (Did anyone notice this?)
Bark on trees, more branches, better grasses, humanoid becoming more human (and now wearing shorts), more leaves, more this, that, and the other thing.
It was a very satisfying afternoon of painting (and only a little mosquito slapping.)
HEY, SEARCH ENGINES, IN CASE YOU ARE LISTENING, THIS IS A PIECE OF CUSTOM ART, AN OIL PAINTING OF A MINERAL KING SCENE. (Just in case there are a handful of folks who wish to join my tens of readers and see how a painting is built by this regional artist, this self-trained, user of a paintbrush like a pencil.)
WHAP, SLAP!! WHY are there mosquitos still plaguing me in November, for Pete’s sake?!
