These paintings are finished: detailed, varnished, scanned, priced, and ready to sell. The goal was to get them into Kaweah Arts before Labor Day. Well, oops, they were ready to deliver on Wednesday, but KA is closed on Wednesdays. Thursday before I headed to the Land of No Electricity, Phones, or Internet Unless you Have StarLink? Nope. Closed Thursdays too.
Oh well. The river in these paintings is unrecognizable as the Kaweah River in September. Not very picturesque at this time of year. HOWEVER, the big trees are always picturesque, unless wrapped in foil and shrouded in smoke. But no fires yet at the time of this posting, thank you, Lord.
Kaweah, Downstream, 8×8″, oil on wrapped canvas (framing optional), $150 (plus Calfonria’s confiscatory sales tax if you live here or buy it in person here )
Kaweah, Upstream, 8×8″, oil on wrapped canvas (framing optional), $150 (plus Calfornia’s confiscatory sales tax if you live here or buy while in the state)
A Pair of Big Trees, 7×14″, oil on wrapped canvas (framing optional), $200 (plus you nkow the drill)
P.S. “Big Tree” is a euphemism for Sequoia Gigantea, AKA Redwood.
“Painting” can be a noun or a verb. In this case, it is both.
After 3 wifi-less days, there were many little tasks** to attend to, and when I finally got into the workshop to paint, it was a real treat.
Made a couple more adjustments on the barn, then moved it into the sunshine to dry.
These two 8×8″ river scenes, “Upstream” and “Downstream”, got some new detailing. Yes, I drew with my paintbrushes.
Next, the sycamore along the road.
Finally, I began detailing the 11×14″ painting of the oak tree with the river in the distance.
That was a satisfying afternoon following a fairly unpleasant morning. Those tech troubles are no fun.
*Brought to you by the Department of Redundancy Dept.
**Trail Guy’s iPad went into a coma and I showed him how to use my old iPhone for checking weather, listening to the radio; it took awhile to make a decision and then buy a new iPad (he will be graduating from 4th to 11th generation); the subscribe button on the blog took about an hour of puttering to get one in place (does it work??); my ATM card expired and the bank had a “glitch” in sending out replacements, so Apple is threatening that I will lose information if I don’t provide a substitute to pay for The Cloud this month. And the day before I locked my keys in the car for the first time in my life and couldn’t call Trail Guy for help because without internet, we had no landline. On and on and on it goes.
While helping my friend set up her grandpa’s house as a vacation rental, we encountered a barn painting that made us both groan. It had no signature, so I offered to take it home and give it a makeover. I was practically itching to tackle this, to put it out of its misery, or more accurately, out of our misery.
The first photo shows some perspective correction on the top of the barn roof. I couldn’t restrain myself and neglected to take an actual Before photo.
After viewing it here, I saw two more improvements to make. Maybe three.
My best guess is that someone painted this in a workshop where everyone was painting the same scene and the instructor was encouraging and positive, but ran out of time.
I’m not sure of the ethics of signing this. Is it “my” painting? It was no one else’s who had courage enough to sign it.
The plan was to paint the edges, but the canvas is too ragged, so my friend will pick up a frame for it. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if this one sold before the others we put in the rental?
Sometimes when I oil paint, I try to finish in one layer. It seldom works, and requires another layer of better detailing.
Other times, I plan on finishing in two layers.
Still others, I expect to keep repainting the scene, over and over and over. In ArtSpeak, this is called “glazing”, and it is the method taught when I endured 1/2 a semester at the localish junior college in 2008.
On this particular painting day, the method of layering over and over and over held some appeal. I haven’t evaluated why I approach each painting differently, but knew this current batch of paintings wouldn’t be good enough if I tried the 2-layer approach.
By the way, finishing in one session is called “ala prima” in ArtSpeak. Yes, it is probably Italian, not what I term ArtSpeak.
I digress.
This was a bit of a mess with barely a single layer.
So, I began again, putting in the beginning layers of background.
I’m hoping that the original layers are either not going to show through or that they will so I don’t have to figure it all out from scratch again. (You can tell that I am still a bit discombobulated with trying to choose the best method to paint.)
Moving right along. . . see the larger square? Let’s tackle that one next.
Are you beginning to doubt either my artistic judgement or my abilities? Fret not.
I spent a bit of time on the laptop trying to find something among my 37,000 photos and stumbled across this forgotten plein air painting (ArtSpeak for “painted on location”, probably French)
If I put a bit more effort into this, I bet it would sell. It is called Airport Bridge, because just across the North Fork of the Kaweah River here in Three Rivers, there used to be a little airstrip. My dad used to land there, and then we’d walk to his uncle’s house.
When it is dry again, I’ll rescan it with the new scanner and then possibly put it in a frame, because it is on that canvas wrapped board, which isn’t suitable on its own.
While I was digging around for that painting after seeing it on the laptop, I found another one, this one clearly incomplete. I began painting it to help one of my drawing students who wanted to learn oil. As I explained and demonstrated each step, she followed along. After a couple of hours, we were only this far and she was fed up. I put it on a shelf and forgot about it until now.
One pomegranate by itself left too much background for my tastes, so I proceeded to dig through my photos and come up with something believable to add.
This was so fun that I forgot to take any more pictures until it was done.
This will need a frame. Phooey. I’ll scan it first. Maybe even decide to put another layer on it. It was fun to paint something in a rarely used color, something that both had specific shapes (unlike scenery) but was forgiving (unlike portraiture.)
Painting differently keeps my interest up. (So do sales, but that’s not what we’re talking about here unless you’d like to make an offer on any of these works in progress.(*>*)
Whoda thunk we’d get rain in Three Rivers in August? It came on a day I had planned to paint, but I didn’t let the low light stop me. However, I held back on thinking any of these paintings were finished. When the sun comes out, I’ll have another think about the state of their completion. You know me—more detail is always better, and of course there will be color corrections to make.
First, I retrieved a painting from Kaweah Arts after seeing it in the store, surrounded by other art. Nope, not good enough.
It will look better when it is color-corrected for the low light, dried, and scanned. If I remember, I’ll show you a 1st edition and then the 2nd edition. If not, and you care to see it, please remind me.*
Next, since I had Alta Peak on the brain, and because I wanted to ease into this painting day since it had been so long, I picked the 6×6″ canvas with Alta Peak already somewhat begun. With about 6 photos for reference, I did an amalgamation, just looking at a variety of shadows and colors. Fall is almost here, so why not use some bright shades of autumn?
From there, I went to the river. Both of these are views from the North Fork Bridge, although the view is of the middle or main fork of the Kaweah River. It’s called the North Fork Bridge because after it crosses the main fork, it follows up the canyon of the north fork.
The one on the left is looking upstream and the one on the right is looking downstream.
Finally, I tackled this 7×14″ canvas of a pair of redwood trees, AKA Big Trees, AKA sequoia gigantea.
The light was really getting low, so this one definitely needs more work. I’ve painted this pair several times, usually quite a bit larger. Since these are to sell in a gift shop, a large size isn’t appropriate, either for the shop or for someone’s suitcase.
P.S. I signed some of them despite not being convinced that they are finished.
*It really bugs me when people tell me to remind them to do stuff. Write it down—I’m not your secretary!! Heh-heh, now I’ve told you to remind me of something.
Never mind. September is a little weird this year, because Labor Day is on the latest possible date, September 7.
Have a look at the September pencil drawing in my 2026 calendar.
This is a meadow near Crescent Meadow in Sequoia National Park. I don’t remember the name. Might be Long Meadow. Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t really have anything to do with September other than it happens to be the page for that month.
With the exception of Jeff’s Garden (a commissioned oil painting) and painting a giant sequoia on a wooden panel, I have not painted this summer. This was planned, not accidental. The swamp cooler in the workshopo is loud, fairly inadequate for our summer heat, and has been springing leaks all summer.
Kaweah Arts, a great art gallery/gift shop in Three Rivers, sold more paintings than I anticipated this summer, and other than one backup 6×18” sequoia oil painting, I have no inventory for them. Therefore, it is time to evaluate which sizes and subject matter are selling the best and choose new subjects accordingly.
River, lake, sequoia tree, river, lake, sequoia tree, river. . . Not exactly like that but close enough that I can read the tea leaves, so to speak. Sure, I’d like to paint yarn, iris, a cat, a favorite cabin window, and other everyday items that float my boat, but Mama didn’t raise no fool. (That’s three clichés in one paragraph!!)
My physical photos are arranged in a miniature filing cabinet, and of my 37,000 photos on the laptop, many are set aside in folders to consider painting for my various vendors. I prefer to sell in gift shops instead of non-existent galleries… non-existent around here. As a regionalist from Quaintsville who only paints what I know (except for those very welcome commissions from Anywhere, USA because overseas shipping is out of my league), I’ll let those fancy far-away galleries full of educated ArtWorld city folk do their own thing without me.
Here’s how it looks as I choose the most likely candidates for new paintings and pair them to canvases, all small sizes because they need to be packable for those travelers.
I know you must be curious about the wooden box of tools. I salvaged 3 drawers from an abandoned art studio that was about to be demolished, and they work well enough in this shelf of cubbies that was about to be demolished, which fit perfectly in our workshop where I paint, Trail Guy putters, and the cats spend their nights. (Are you starting to see a pattern in how I accumulate furniture and tools?)
Do you like this table? It is about 32” square, solid wood, the top needs refinishing, and if you want to own it, come get it. A friend (who isn’t as obsessed as I am with not wasting old things) wanted it to go away, and now I need to find a home for it.
First I put on the D-rings. Next, the wires, my worst favorite part. Ever notice that those pliers which are supposed to cut wire only work the first 3-4 times you use them for that purpose?
Alrighty then, seven canvases, all numbered, wired, and ready for the first layer of oil paint.
I finally no longer stress about how ugly the paintings look on the first layer. (Only took twenty years)
Lake, river, oak tree, sycamore tree. (Please please, kind tourists, allow me to paint other trees besides sequoias!)
River, sequoias, Alta Peak
Obviously, I didn’t follow the formula that appears in title of this post. Local folks sometimes want our landmarks rather than the usual tourist choices. Sometimes people ask where I get my inspiration. First, I want to paint what sells because I came here to earn a living and not have to be a secretary or a waitress. Life costs money, particularly if you choose to drive old vehicles.
Second, I love photography, mixing colors, figuring out composition, eliminating the messy stuff, and creating pictures that remind people of the good stuff of Tulare County, right here in the heart of California’s flyover country. (But remember, don’t move here because we are all fat, have diabetes, high unemployment, the worst educated city in all of the entire country as our county seat, bad air, and no Trader Joe’s.)
And that is the answer to “Hey Central California Artist, what are you working on these days?”
The side view of my studio isn’t nearly as cute as the front view.
Odd Job
My friend G explained that he just needs an outline of what might pass for the tops of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, stretched across a single 12 foot panel. Jimmy delivered four for some unknown reason.
First, we flipped the panel around so that the rustiest part was showing. While G was explaining, I got out some chalk and started drawing. G had a few comments, and I finished drawing before he finished talking. Easy peasy.
I suggested that he have Jimmy cut along my line with his plasma cutter, then see how it looks in place and see if his customer is happy. If not, either cut a bit more, or have me draw it again on another panel.
After G left, I went spelunking in my flat files. (That’s how I found the colored pencil drawing of my sister’s neighbor’s car.)
Old Job
I found this project, from 2000 when I was learning colored pencil and portraiture at the same time. It wasn’t a success. The girl on the right was actually drawn using a different photo, and neither one looked quite like herself.
I thought about what I would tell me drawing students: turn it upside down, study every shape and evaluate EXACTLY how it looks. After an hour or two, I decided that it was good enough.
The color is dreadful. It wasn’t worth fetching the laptop and going through all the steps to scan. So I photographed it one more time and sent it to the girls’ mom. She was my first friend in Three Rivers and has encouraged and pushed me to try hard things for 27 years!
No difference in the photography. I might end up scanning it. Prolly give it to one of the girls. The one on the right still lives in town and I believe she is 35 years old now.
Holy guacamole.
P.S. The mom didn’t respond to my text and I no longer pretend that I can do portraiture or colored pencil well.
My friend G is building a pool or pond or something for some people in Three Rivers. He has a vision of a corrugated metal wall with the shape of the mountains cut at the top of the wall. He said the wall would be about 8 feet, and asked if I could draw the mountains at the top so that someone else could use a plasma cutter on the metal.
I said yes.
Then the someone else, let’s call him Jimmy because that is his name, brought over 4 sheets of rusty corrugated metal, each one 12’ in length.
Umm, G, you will need to instruct me. Are these sheets going to stack on one another horizontally? Will they be placed side-by-side vertically? Do you want the same thing drawn on each one in case Jimmy makes a mistake? Or are we working with a 48’ wall?
G sent me some instructions that could be interpreted multiple ways. I suggested that he come to my studio so we could iron out the important details.
Besides, I have four different options for mountain shapes.
Interesting that the most difficult part of the job might be getting clear instructions! The good news is that there is no deadline.
The first time I drew a Hume Lake cabin, it was for my friend’s parents. Her mom commissioned a pencil drawing.
Wait, not true. The first time I drew a Hume Lake cabin, it was the boys staff cabin across the street from the girls staff cabin, in 1978. It was a present for my roommate, and I didn’t save a picture of the drawing.
Here is my friend’s cabin the first time I drew it (1995), and again after my friend allowed me to improve it (2017).
A few things have changed over the years, but none significantly alter the look. (Two trees in the foreground are history and now the room is metal.)
My friend’s cousins have become my friends too, and one year we were there for a birthday party for three of the cousins. I did three tiny paintings for birthday gifts.
My friend commissioned me to paint some ornaments for some of her cousins. They look awful here—wet, shiny, perhaps even incomplete.
One of the cousins sent me this photo the next year.
My most recent iteration of Hume Lake is in pencil, used in the 2026 calendar. This is the view from the footbridge over Ten Mile Creek, looking toward the Forest Service beach called Sandy Cove. (It doesn’t show—it’s behind the trees on the right.)
I have so many beautiful photos of the lake. . . I could paint it. Maybe I will someday. I know, “someday is not a day”, and “sometime is not on the schedule.”
