Library Mural, Day Eleven

Day Eleven was a day of doubt, feeling like a fraud, an imposter, a Jane Bag-of-Donuts masquerading as an artist. This is probably a result of attempting to paint something with an inadequate photo, on a very rough wall, in a space where I couldn’t back up quickly to observe from a distance and then go close to inspect, biting off more than I could chew, overestimating my abilities. . .

It was also a result of being into the finish work stage; Trail Guy reminded me how quickly a building gets framed, and then how long it takes to do all the finish carpentry when building something.

I started to put in Guy On A Ladder. The ladder looked wonky, and then I realized it looks wonky in the photo. The worst moment was when I realized that the oranges surrounding him were as big as his head would be, if his head was visible.

It took a minute to figure out that my photo is quite inadequate; it was fine for drawing the model for the proposal—colored pencils under a magnifying glass. Maybe I need to shrink the oranges around him.

Never mind. I painted him out and concentrated on orange blossoms, of which there are zillions. ZILLIONS. I painted for about 2 hours on these and felt as if I had moved about 6” along the wall and still had empty places.

Never mind. I decided that painting smudge pots would give a greater sense of forward motion, restore a little confidence. (The color is weirdly bright here. . . it’s a photo accident)

Never mind. I need to keep putting those endless blossoms in. (Whose idea was that??)

I wondered if it mattered when someone was standing back at a good distance. Hard to say in the bright light and shadow.

Never mind. It was time to work on something fun and satisfying.

The quality of the light sure changed quickly during that little situation.

This is how it looked at the end of the day. (It probably looks the same to you as it did at the end of Day Ten.)

A muralist friend sent me this picture, which was posted somewhere by the Exeter mural folks, yesterday, the very same day I was doubting my abilities. If I was able to do this 16 years ago, with relatively little experience, certainly I should be able to complete this little mural on the Ivanhoe library!

Thoughts on Internship

My Intern

Today I am painting, progressing on the mural on the Ivanhoe library. I am writing this post before I have painted today, thinking ahead.

Each day I work on the mural, there are multiple decisions to make. In the past, when I’d get a little stuck, I’d pick a somewhat mindless task, such as taping off an area or applying a base coat. Since having Intern to help, I save those tasks for him.

Sometimes I invite him to step back with me to look at the whole picture. I ask him what he sees, we discuss the next steps, and often I ask him which task he thinks ought to come next. I ask him for 2 reasons: (1) to help him understand the thought necessary in the process of creating such a massive painting and (2) sometimes I have “decision fatigue”, which might be a euphemism for mental laziness.

In anticipation of today’s work, I made a list of the next easy tasks, and in the process, I realized that his role as an active intern on this mural might reach an end today. What remains are tight detailing: the man on the ladder, some smudgepots, the rooster, tighter lettering, the auditorium, a wind machine, and perhaps a couple of surprises.

I wonder if he will still want to hang around while I work on these things. He might, he might not. More will be revealed in the fullness of time.

Someone Else’s Thoughts on Internships or Apprenticeships

The next two paragraphs are taken from Eric Rhoads, the prolific painter, writer, workshop and convention coordinator and leader—the man who led the weeklong plein air retreat in Monterey that I attended in October 2024.

“. . .that’s exactly how the masters worked. Apprentices would paint backgrounds, grind pigments, even paint entire sections of ‘the master’s’ work. Collaboration wasn’t a buzzword; it was how things got done. Raphael had an entire workshop of apprentices painting from his designs. Was it still “his” work? The Renaissance said yes. Our modern obsession with individual authorship would have confused them.

When I let those kids paint on my canvas, I wasn’t risking ruining it. I was enacting a centuries-old tradition. And more importantly, I was doing what those Renaissance masters did: passing it on. Because here’s the secret they knew and we’ve forgotten — art isn’t about the final product. It’s about the transformation that happens in the making. —From Eric Rhoads

In case you were curious, I kept track of Intern’s hours and paid him last week. I will pay him for his remaining hours of working, but not if he chooses to simply observe. He was shocked by the check, slightly insulted when I asked him if he knew what to do with a check, and felt unworthy, as if he owed me something in return.

I reminded him that he gave me some hours of his life, I gave him the equivalent of green pieces of paper with dead presidents’ faces on it in exchange, and we were even.

I Wonder

How many more Fridays will it take to complete this? Should Intern’s name go on the mural? Will I be able to do all those details without his excellent eye and honest input? Will I be able to help him find a steady job? Will he go on to paint a mural of his own? (He is into videography more than 2-dimensional art.)

Look how far we’ve come in ten days of painting!

The end of Day One:

The end of Day Ten:

Enough bloviating for today. Come back Monday to see how close we are to the end of this most satisfying project.

Building Sequoias on Canvas

Do you have any understanding of the difficulty of coming up with interesting titles to the same subjects, over and over and over? Just asking, not really expecting any answers.

These paintings, 6×18”, of Sequoia Gigantea, AKA Redwoods, AKA Big Trees, sell very steadily at $195 each. I get a little tired of painting the same thing over, until I think about the alternative occupations of waitress or secretary. Thus, I began another set-up of three of these popular paintings, with layer #1 completed last week.

Layer #2 is sky, because I work from back to front, meaning that I paint the most distant thing first.

Next, the wood. Redwood.

Then, green on the big trees.

Green on the more distant trees is supposed to be less vivid, more bluish green, a bit lighter.

Hold on—Jackson is hungry, poor deprived underfed malnourished beast, begging for a morsel. He begins with slamming into the back of my legs as I stand at the easel, gripes at me if I don’t respond, and eventually, he stretches upward and bites me. So, I must feed him if I expect to finish any work.

The last layer is the ground with its shadows. For variety, I put the sun at two different angles.

Notice the lack of reference photos. They are taped to another easel, and I only glance at them from time to time. Yeppers, I am making up these trees rather than trying to copy any one tree exactly. Visitors to the Park don’t know the details; the main request is to have a painting show the entire tree, from top to botrom.

These paintings will dry, and then I will begin layer #3, which is the most enjoyable part to this pencil artist: details!

P.S. If you don’t hear from me for the rest of the week, fret not. I’ll post about the mural progress next Monday.

Library Mural, Day Ten

I left sunny Three Rivers and headed down into the fog. I remember worse fog when I lived outside of Ivanhoe with my parents, so this wasn’t too awful.

Downtown Ivanhoe
Can you see the mural through the fog?

The mural looked like this. I seem to forget where I left off from week to week. I’m pleased with the repaired mountains. Intern and my Number One Fan (Josie brings me treats, encouragement, and posts to some FaceBook group) both noticed the improvement.

I began with orange blossoms.

Intern began working on another layer of white over the words on the label. Since there was only one color used, instead of using a palette, I told him he could dip straight out of the jar. Might have been a mistake, but one we can recover from. When the paint dries, we will simply peel up the plastic, because mural paint is acrylic, and acrylic is plastic.

Slight spillage in the mud. I scooped up as much as possible and put it back in the jar. I wonder if this will dry in the ensuing week.

Next, he worked on the lower border of the auditorium inset.

The two orange groves in the Twin Buttes inset weren’t good enough. So, I made them better. Here are the steps:

Next, orange blossoms on the close branches on the right side.

After Intern left, I was bored* with orange blossoms so I decided to tackle the most difficult piece: the auditorium. Although I prefer drawing architecture to almost any other subject, painting from a poor photo on a rough wall while sitting in the mud presents some challenges.

Most of what remains is tight detailing. This might mean that I’ve almost run out of ways for Intern to assist. However, he will be quite helpful on the distant orange blossoms.

*Probably not actually bored, just wanting to do something with more impact so it felt as if I was making measurable progress.

Four Assorted Boxing Day Thoughts

  1. You prolly know that Boxing Day is a British tradition. In the olden days, the rich people boxed up their excesses the day after Christmas to give to the po’ folk. I don’t know what they do now, except I do know that one friend in Nova Scotia chooses to make a really nice dinner on Boxing Day rather than on overloaded Christmas.

2. After the Yellow Tunnel oil painting dries again, I will put the finishing touches on it. I can print and write more neatly, sometimes it is just unimportant, such as when I am slamming out the notes as fast as they pop into my mind.

3. This is the best article and idea I have ever read about Christmas. It was in the Wall Street Journal in 1997, and my Dad cut it out to give to me. I never forgot its wisdom, and it was very good to find it on the internet a few years ago.Iin case it gets deleted, I printed a copy.

Here is the article for you: Merry Excessmas!

4. Sometimes I draw in church. It helps me listen, because keeping my hands busy occupies the right side of my brain so it doesn’t hijack the other side. If I am drawing and listening, I’m not making a list of things to do in the coming week, writing reminder notes to myself, or other things that actually prevent listening.

P.S. Calendars are still available because IT ISN’T 2026 YET! Look here for the info. Or email me here: cabinart [at] cabinart [dot] net. (Written that way because of internet gremlins.) Or call me if you have my number (oh nonono, not putting it here for those gremlins to find!)

P.P.S. The Beginning Drawing Workshop is still open for registration. Look at this blog post from Monday for the details.

Three Assorted Christmas Eve Thoughts

Today we continue the assorted thoughts, all unrelated to one another and unrelated to Christmas Eve.

  1. Last week I was in the Post Office and there was a bit of a line, which gave me the opportunity to do nothing but eavesdrop and observe. There were four of us women in the lobby, all wearing jeans. I observed 3 styles: A. super tight, AKA “skinny jeans”, worn by someone simply because that is what was available or perhaps worn because she thought that any fad is simply “cute” without regard to whether or not it is flattering; B. very wide legs, rolled up to be “floods” or “high waters”, worn because they were available and fit or perhaps because she thought they were the “latest” (which only lasts a few months any more) without regard to whether or not it looked silly; C. normal jeans, except sort of baggy and stacked up on the shoes, worn because they are never in style nor out of style, they don’t squeeze a body, don’t look like “high waters”, because they fit, and because they are comfortable. (Bet you can guess what Jeans Camp I belong to). I was happy to see that no one was wearing purposely torn jeans.
  2. In listening to a podcast that ends with “something you might not know”, I learned that The Chipmunks were created in 1958 by someone messing around with an old tape recorder (or whatever machine was around then) on high speed. As a result, I got them singing their Christmas song on repeat in my head. Made me laugh to hear those voices from my youth.
  3. I might be finished with the Yellow Tunnel! I dug through the provided photos and cobbled together enough visual helps to turn the humanoid into a hiker, then texted Mr. Customer. He said, “I think he looks great!” I replied, “Well, glory to God for answered prayers for help on this!”

Then I painted the edges.

not finished

That’s enough. I am guessing most of my blog readers have other things to do on Christmas Eve than read assorted and sundry thoughts from an artist’s rambling and active mind.

Yes, calendars and spaces in the beginning drawing workshop are still available. Look at yesterday’s post for the links. I’m busy thinking thoughts rather than finding links.

Five Assorted Christmas Adam Thoughts

“Christmas Adam”?

Yep. Adam came before Eve.

Today will be a peek into the variety of tasks required so far this week to maintain the business of self-employed artist.

  1. I expected to paint on the Ivanhoe Library mural twice this week, but they are closed. Until/unless they provide a key to the building, I will only be painting on the days they are open. (I wonder if they regret not providing a key?) Good thing Rep found out for me, and that Intern is flexible.

2. The host of my website and blog billed me an enormous sum of $$$, an upgrade to Professional Hosting. Because I use DuckDuckGo, I couldn’t go onto my account and see what was happening. It took awhile, but when I figured out that I needed to use Safari to log on, I called the company and reached a helpful human. She said I’ve been paying for 20 GB of storage and am currently up to 46 GB. (I know, no speakie.) We worked out a compromise, where I pay about $250 less than the billed amount, which includes another year. I will begin deleting old blog posts and the photos in order to not exceed 50 GB. (I know lbs. but am unsure of GB, except that it is greater than MB, which is greater than KB. Took a couple of decades to get that far in my understanding.)

3. Deleting old blog posts is in my immediate future. Because I post 5 days a week and have been since 2008, that is a lot of material. Frankly, no one cares. Sometimes when I look at old posts, related to current post in order to link to them and perhaps get discovered by more readers, I then see that the photos are missing, or the format is wonky. 2008 seems new to me in terms of vehicles we drive, but in terms of the interwebs, it is just plain historical.

Well, that was a lot and kind of boring. Let’s look at an odd job that recently came my way. I get these from time to time because A. I am the only artist that many people know; B. I return phone calls and emails and follow up; C. My prices don’t scare people. Most people, that is.

But I digress.

4. A friend has beautiful carved cupboard doors in his kitchen (I guess in his kitchen—I’ve not been inside his house). He had one extra, and decided it would look great as art on the wall. He asked me to enhance it.

We weren’t exactly sure if this would work, so I sent some samples, in which I applied a little bit of oil paint, seeking his approval, and then wiped it off if it wasn’t fitting his vision.

First, a touch of purple was approved.

This green was too light.

I wiped it off and replaced it with this one, which was approved.

This was really fun—very subtle, transparent so the wood color and grain still comes through, and very forgiving.

5. My printer kept saying it was jammed. I practiced some insanity of following the unjamming steps over and over despite it not having any paper jammed in it, and then it began working again. I only had to go through the steps about seven times.

Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve (which follows Christmas Adam), I will continue the assorted thoughts.

Thank you, and Blessed Christmas Adam, Dear Readers.

P.S. Calendars are still available. Look here for the info. Or email me here: cabinart [at] cabinart [dot] net. (Written that way because of internet gremlins.)

P.P.S. The Beginning Drawing Workshop is still open for registration. Look at this blog post from Monday for the details.

Day of Art Business Variety

This happened yesterday. First, I went to the post office to mail some packages of this painting and some calendars.

From the PO I jaywalked across the highway to the bank to deposit moola from the day before in Tulare and a check paying for this painting, which sold at the Mural Gallery.

When I got home, there were sirens, more sirens, lights, more sirens, and every type of emergency vehicle imaginable going past. A friend, a neighbor, and the mail lady drove into our driveway all at the same time, everyone speculating and sharing what they knew. Trail Guy, L (the friend), and I decided to walk down to see what we could see. When we got there, about 1/2 of the emergency vehicles had left, so we were feeling hopeful that it wasn’t as awful as first imagined.

The driver doesn’t know what happened—just driving, then sideways. The windshield was completely smashed on the driver’s side, because that is the way the driver was extracted. The driver wasn’t hurt, just puzzled and embarrassed and dismayed and every other emotion when your life is suddenly disrupted to this degree with multiple uniforms surrounding you. (Yes, keeping things anonymous here.)

I walked back home, puzzled, a bit worried about what happened to the driver, and just slayed by the clarity of the day.

Some paperwork was demanding attention in the studio, because if one doesn’t stay current, one will miss expenditures and deposits and emails and real mail, no matter how much one thinks she will remember later. And no matter how careful she thinks she has been, the end-of-the-year bookkeeping is always a little ragged. It didn’t take too long, and I felt rather smug about handling it so efficiently (which somewhat balances out the irritation of those ragged parts in the year-end machinations.)

After puttering around with mural paints in preparation for the next painting day, which was an excuse to be outside in the sunshine, I finally moved into the painting workshop to see if I could progress on the Yellow Tunnel.

First, more blue patches in the cottonwoods.

The humanoid is very intimidating, frankly, just too hard… inadequate photos, and very small. I won’t be quitting, but today wasn’t the day for this degree of precision. (Yikes on the skin color, complete uncertainty on almost everything else.)

Edges! I’ll paint the edges! Trouble is, the top of the canvas is quite a bit above my vision. I moved the easel to the floor and in the process I banged my bad wrist, which I thought was well enough to stop wearing the brace. (De Quervain’s Tennosynovitis, now in the 14th month of trying to rob me of joy.) Holy guacamole, how will I be able to work on the mural Friday?

I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Intern will be with me, so we’ll figure something out. I was able to do this upper edge of the canvas, but then I quit for the day because ow. OW. OW. Dang it dang it dang it.

I was able to do a bit of texting, keeping current with the customer on my progress. There is a great big distance between us geographically, which can make a customer feel a bit nervous. This customer and I are actually good friends, so he isn’t nervous, and I just like to stay in contact.

He mentioned an interest in another painting to go with this one (which is to go with another one he owns), so I mentioned these two, which are still available. Pushy artist, eh? Nope, helpful. I hope. (The colors are SO MUCH BETTER IN PERSON.)

And since I am being a helpful artist, here is the calendar for your consideration. Prolly won’t make it by Christmas, but it will make it by January 1 if you order soon, depending on your location. $25 includes mailing and tax.

SHARON, DON’T LOOK AT THE SECOND IMAGE!

Long Distance Commission, Chapter 6

Remember this painting from before I began the mural? (I certainly hope so, since I showed it to you yesterday with a few trees completed on the left.)

I finished landscaping the distance. (Maybe. There’s always room for improvement.)

Then I texted Mr. J. (the customer) with a photo and this question: “Can you say if the roof color moves more toward a brownish gray or toward a bluish gray? I know that’s getting into some artsy nitpicky details, but I have to ask in case [it matters]. Maybe I should make my prices 10 times as high so I can fly places and check out things with my own eyes!” (Yes, I am editing my text for you, Blog Reader, so it makes the most sense)

Mr. J. replied: “Maybe include it as an option for customers to pay directly.”

I responded: “That is an excellent idea. Would you like to be the first?”

Mr. J.: “Like to? Yes. Able. . .?”

Me: “Shoot. I thought you were going to send me an airline ticket. I was momentarily confused, forgetting that we met on the Frugal Girl blog.”

Then I put down the phone and painted a new layer on the roof.

For this type of precision painting, I often rotate the canvas so that I can precisely monitor the edge of the brush. If the handle or my hand is blocking the view of the bristles, how can I be accurate?

CORRECT! I CANNOT!

Next, bricks and shutters and windows.

Much more detail remains for the windows and doors and landscaping. I carried it into the warm house for quicker drying. This is very intense work, and in order to apply detail, the paint beneath must be dry, or almost dry. The shine on the sky is an indication of wet paint, and the changing color on the roof is an indication of the changing light as the day progressed.

It was an interesting painting day, because I’d paint about 15 more minutes which turned out to be an entire hour. I must have been having fun, because time flew. There were no walks, no sitting in the sun, and lunch was quickly scarfed down while standing at the kitchen counter until I realized that I could finish it while walking back to the workshop.

I am seriously grateful to Trail Guy for keeping the house warm and fixing dinner. How do people manage without supportive spouses??

Meanwhile, Back in the Painting Workshop

Why “painting workshop”? Because I don’t paint in the studio. I draw in the 11×13’ studio; painting is too messy for that little space.

Since I am taking a break from the library mural, I now have time to return to the oil painting commissions.

We finally had a sunny day, which made it much easier to see. This is how the painting looked in the morning.

The day’s goal was to get all the green cottonwood leaves turned yellow. I mixed several shades of yellow and gold, and began working methodically from top to bottom and left to right.

A friend texted me to ask for a photo of me working on a painting. The choices were to wait until the evening and go through my 30,000 photos or hand the camera to Trail Guy. We opted for the second choice. My jacket is green, not blue. See? Cameras do lie.

I painted some more leaves.

Then Trail Guy tempted me with a walk, and as I stepped out of the workshop, I was struck once again by my flowering pear tree, which has brought us prolonged color this year.

After the walk, the temptation to sit in the sun was strong, but I was stronger, returning to the painting workshop.

Two more photos of the yellow tunnel. Next it needs more sky patches, but until it is dry, blue would just turn green when applied over the wet yellow. I worked on the humanoid a tiny bit. Very tricky without one accurate photo; I’m just cobbling many photos together, seeking believability. There are now yellow leaves on the ground too.

Then it was time to return to another commission oil painting, which has been on hold for several weeks while I was muralizing. Muraling. Painting the mural. Freezing, actually. Well, not literally. Shivering.

First, I needed to stare at it for awhile to become reacquainted.

Then, I tiptoed into the trees on the left. The light ran out and it was time to convert the painting workshop back into the cats’ home. Kitty curfew comes early in these days of short daylight.

This painting doesn’t feel nearly as hard since I have been working on the mural. Yeppers, I can do this!

2026 Calendars, available here (or if you encounter me around the area in Mom’s Car), $25, includes mailing.