I shoved the couch to the right, covered it with the tarp, and tackled the remaining branches.
I forgot to take photos for a few hours, after shoving the couch back to the far left side. The next goal was to show depth where the new branches overlapped. This keeps the tree from looking like a cardboard cutout or flat paint. I want it to look as if it could lift off the wall (aiming high. . . )
A tree guy stopped by to look at it and give me his opinion (I asked him) —balanced, realistic, believable? After receiving the Gene Castro Seal of Approval, I moved ahead with confidence, tapping on some leaves.
When I was finished (because I was hungry again—could bring lunch, but I don’t want to spend time there not painting!) it looked like this.
One day is all that is necessary to complete the leaves and a few additional details. This has been an easy job in terms of commute (2 miles) and accessibility (indoors, 2 ladders but no extension ladder). Plus, I am at my church*, with lots of people coming and going, a very social and productive place.
As I work on the tree, it feels as if I am making no progress. I finally figured out why: it is because I am painting the same stuff over and over and over. Branch, twig, twig, twig, branch, twig, twig, twig, twig…
It also looks insignificant when seen with the entire wall, so the photos from Wednesday’s painting session are mostly focusing on the tree.
This is my view from the ladder.
I climb down the ladder, stand and stare, decide what needs to be thickened, tapered off, added, filled in. . . Then I climb up the ladder and try to recognize the spots that I decided to fix. Then when I can’t recognize them because it is too close and looks different, I climb back down the ladder to try again to memorize the particular spots, then climb back up the ladder to make the additions and changes, before I see something different to add, which would cause me to lose my place again.
When it got too confusing, I got my darker and lighter browns out so that I could create a bit of bark and a sense of branches overlapping.
After about 5-1/2 hours of this, I was hungry, cold, and confused. Hungry because breakfast was a long time ago, cold because I chose to not use the heater, and confused because it all looks alike. Fret not, I did take a couple of breaks because there were other people working at church on Wednesday. I warmed up in the office, got sidetracked with some sorting and tossing with the secretary, learned some fun things about the pastor, tried some fancy coffee with the janitress. (Woman janitor=janitress?)
I haven’t decided how far to the left to grow the branches, so I put the furniture back in place to see how it all looks together, hoping the answer will present itself on the next day of painting.
Pay no attention to the ladders in the corner or the inverted table on the rug. It’s there to flatten out the folds. When we began discussing how to make the room more inviting, my cohort mentioned that she just got new living room furniture and then I got all excited to grow an indoor tree. Thus, this project was born.
So, more branches and twigs, a decision about the length, more texture, some fuzzy green leaves the way they are looking in reality, outside, right now in Three Rivers, because this will be a one-season tree. I can’t make February last forever in real life, but I can do it on the wall.
P.S. Nope, not painting the underside of the soffit; I am NOT Michelangelo.
The first one was 3 stories high in someone’s living room. This was the first time such an idea was put forth to me, and it opened a new chapter in my muralizing life.
The second one was painted in an empty house as the owners were preparing to turn it into a vacation rental.
My church* hired a new pastor, and things are rockin’ and rollin’ (not literally). Many changes are taking place, for which I am grateful, excited to be part of, and will tell you about the ones that are relevant to this blog.
This room is called the “multipurpose room”. For quite a few years, it was used as a “pilot room”, i.e. “Pile it in there”. When the junk was finally all gone, several of us put our heads together to find a way to make the room feel warm and welcoming, and to truly serve multiple purposes.
Someone brought in comfy furniture for one end, and then I was allowed to go at it with paint.
Lots of climbing up and down to study and decide where to place the next branches and twigs, what to fatten, what to twist a bit more, etc.
When I got to the end of my breakfast (made it until 2:30), it looked like this.
So many decisions. So slow. Here’s what remains: more branches, more twigs, darken/lighten so it creates depth and layering, add texture, add leaves, add a few birds, moss, grasses. . . ?
Good thing it is indoors, because this is a rainy rainy rainy week.
The mural looked like this when I arrived in Ivanhoe (photo from the end of the previous painting day—I arrived early enough that the light wasn’t yet on the mural.)
After talking to an old friend who remembered more details than I, I added a hint of a door on the porch of the old auditorium. (Please excuse the poor quality of the After photo!)
Then I added orange blossoms. These are only important if you are up close and inspecting the mural; they are irrelevant if you are riding a fast horse.
Next, I flailed around for a while, trying to figure out where to work next. The idea that I might finish had me a little wound up, wondering if it was possible, wondering how to prioritize. The rooster rose to the top of the list—all those colors!
Here are the feet, before and after.
Next, I sat on the ground, now redwood chips rather than mud, and began the quail.
I stood back, studied the mural while visiting with my cousin on the phone, and decided that the blue sky in the Twin Buttes inset was too blue, too flat, too perfect.
Okay, now let’s look at the whole thing. This was a quick-quick-quick-before-the-tree-shades-it shot.
Some more staring and thinking brought me to the conclusion that despite simplifying the packing label, I needed to not abbreviate Klink to Klink Citrus; the name was Klink Citrus Association. And since I couldn’t figure out how to legibly paint “Tulare County, California” on the wall’s rough surface, I simply added “Ivanhoe.”
Throughout the day, I touched up a few more things, brightening the arms of the wind machine, tightening up the edges of the smudge pots, closing up gaps around some of the insets, putter, putter, tinker, tinker.
Enough, already! I signed it. Even with the guidelines of the bricks, my name went crooked. YOU TRY WRITING YOUR NAME WITH A PAINTBRUSH WHILE LYING ON THE GROUND!
Okay, one more photo before it was completely finished but also before the shadows hit it.
One last look.
I loved working on this mural—the commute, the ease of not working on ladders, the subject matter, the neighborhood, being at the library of my youth, meeting the various people who stopped by, the roosters, the patrolling dogs and yowling cats, all of it.
THANK YOU, IVANHOE!
P.S. An inside mural begins today, Lord willing, etc. . . if I do begin, it will be on the blog on Wednesday. Tomorrow is a little history tidbit about the mural.
This stack of ten canvases was staring at me accusingly. So rude.
The only way I could get them to shut up was to start working on them. I spread out the smallest canvases with their photos, mixed up a pile of sky color to cover eight of the beginning backgrounds, along with a nondescript dark background color for two that are different from my usual Mineral King scenery paintings.
The two Sequoia gigantea are finishing their drying session. No hurry; I delivered one still sort of dampish to Kaweah Arts, and these two are just back-ups.
Some of the canvases had a base coat, and last week I drew the basic shapes in pencil. I don’t always do this, but for some unknown reason felt compelled to do that last week. Maybe I just wanted to make the starting out session more accurate. . . maybe I thought it would make the paintings go faster. . . or maybe I just felt like drawing in pencil. Yeah, that.
As I was taking inventory of Mineral King paintings on hand, I kept returning to this 8×10” of White Chief, which was painted from a particularly dramatic photo taken by Trail Guy, early one season. The painting just didn’t slap me in the eyes like the photos do, so I guessed at what might make it better and then fiddled around with it a bit more.
Before
After
Better? Maybe. Hard to say when the upper one was scanned and the lower one photographed with my inferior phone camera. If it sells in 2026, I will conclude that it has been improved. If not, I’ll just break all my brushes, slash my canvases, and see if I can find a job eradicating typos somewhere.
Last week I did not work on the mural for reasons that are irrelevant to my public life, as shared here with my tens of readers. The week before last, actually, since I show you on Mondays what I did on Fridays. Never mind.
This is how it looked last; it’s kind of hard to see things accurately in the late afternoon sun and shadow.
When I got to the library on Friday, it looked like this:
Wait, what is missing?? The mulberry trees were pruned, and THE REDWOOD LOG IS GONE, ALONG WITH THE STUMP! Whoops. That was a monument. Sure made nice chips on the ground and So Much Easier to see and work on the mural!!
There is a saying out there that when you have a difficult job facing you, i.e.,“a frog”, you should “eat the frog first”. So, I did: Ladder Man.
After I painted Ladder Man (this was the 2nd or 3rd attempt), Intern correctly and objectively pointed out that he was too small. (Thank goodness for Intern.) So, I kept Ladder Man the same size but moved him farther away in the orchard, conveniently placed behind the Twin Buttes inset so that the wonky ladder wasn’t visible.
Intern worked on orange blossoms for 3+ hours. (Thank goodness for Intern.) Then I dripped some paint on the bright orange on the label, tried to wipe it off, and then Intern turned it into a star, to be fixed later. I hope we remember all the Fix-it-Laters. . .
While Intern worked on the zillions of tiny white dots masquerading as distant orange blossoms, along with gray-ish green dots in the shadows, I tackled the next frog on the menu—painting the old Ivanhoe School Auditorium on that very rough wall surface, minus a T-square and a triangle, which I would be using if I was drawing it in pencil, or perhaps even when painting if the wall had been plastered.
I worked from left to right, across the inset, just as I would do if drawing in pencil. Yes, I was drawing with my paintbrush!
Time to stand back and admire all the progress, with the sunshine and clear treeless and logless view.
Then I decided to label the Auditorium inset, because no one will know what it is unless I tell them.
That was such a success (with space remaining to put in the year it was built and the year it was torn down if I am able to learn that information) that I decided to help people know what Twin Buttes are. That helped fill the too-big real estate of the road.
I sat down in the redwood wood chips which replaced the mud, and began fixing the label. You can see how the daylight changed during that interval to the late afternoon sunshine which casts a golden glow.
Please admire the detailed orange blossoms and navel on the label’s orange:
Further, note the claws on the rooster along with a hint of a shadow. This appeared on the actual label when I held it in the formerly unavailable bright sunshine.
Throughout the process of painting this mural, I continually use the measurement of “best viewed from the back of a fast horse”. After detailing the auditorium, Intern said it was “getting to be slow horse quality.”
I wonder if I’ll be able to finish it next Friday. Prolly not, when I consider how many orange blossoms remain, along with an uncontrollable desire to make the oranges brighter throughout. I also want to add a few more details, because those are the types of things that keep people looking closely.
To top off the great day of painting, there were PEOPLE IN THE LIBRARY!! Is this because the mural is drawing attention to this great free resource in this poor, tiny town of few benefits other than mountain views and the smell of orange blossoms each spring?
After a couple of weeks of messing around, I finally planted my feet in front of the easels to complete these three Sequoia paintings.
First, I dabbled on this one day, and then said, “Never mind, I’d rather [walk] [pull weeds] [go to the library] [anything else]”.
I girded my loins, and returned to the easels on another day. Can you tell which one is finished among these three?
Now two are finished, on the face anyway.
The light is beginning to wane, but all three are now finished on their faces.
The edges remained. It is a good way to use up the rest of the paint, and I hold them in my hand and rotate them around, trying to not end up wearing any paint. Finally, I laid them flat to dry.
The next oil painting task is to decide what to paint for the Silver City Store. Summer is like Christmas—we KNOW when it is coming, there is no excuse for procrastination, and there is plenty of time to prepare without getting jammed up against the calendar.
Maybe in one of those avoidance activities, I can engage in some deep thought to figure out why I was so reluctant to work on these paintings, which sell steadily at two local art stores/gift shops.*
Then since I was on a roll with Sequoia Trees, I got this panel set up in the sunshine to recoat the sky because that knothole made a weird appearance.
This is the page for February in my 2026 calendar.
I drew this in pencil (duh) from several photos taken a short distance up North Fork Drive in Three Rivers. The original is on a piece of 11×14” archival paper. It is for sale. $375 (plus tax if you live in California) or make me an offer.
Same size and price for the January drawing. Not tryna be sellsy or pushy (because that is obnoxious and I don’t really know how to do that). Just letting you know. Besides, this is supposed to be a business blog, not just me trip-trip-trapping around and then yip-yip-yapping about it.
“Phoning it in” is the current popular cliché for doing a half-arse job at something. Is this post in that category? You can decide.
I love to draw in pencil. In case you all think I am a painter at heart, here is some evidence to the contrary.
I did this commissioned pencil drawing last year around this time, possibly the most difficult one I’ve ever attempted. The customers were such wonderful people that I didn’t want to say “no”, and sometimes it is fun to challenge myself. It certainly put me in the position to say to my drawing students, “Do what I say, not what I do.” (NEVER DRAW A FACE SMALLER THAN AN EGG!! ABSOLUTELY DO NOT DRAW TWENTY IN THE SAME PIECE!!)
I’m showing it to you today while I am out goofing off with friends. (Didn’t want you to think I have always been a slacker. )
WAIT! I’m not “goofing off”. I am on a field trip, a journey to gather new information for future art.
