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.

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.

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. . .

Just Another Work Day for Your Central California Artist

Painting

To postpone two difficult tasks, I started this 10×30” commissioned oil painting, following the sketch which the customer approved.

Just Plain Work

This part didn’t warrant any photos. Some friends from Southern California went to my show, bought a drawing, and then hit a snag and couldn’t return to pick it up. I took it home to package it for shipping, started to clean the glass, and I pushed the glass through the frame. WHAT?? It had to be taken apart and resecured. However, AFTER I had the back resealed up, I saw that the two mats were not aligned. WHAT?? I took it apart again, got everything in position, flipped it over, and saw that there was a tiny little chud (technical term I learned during a brief stint in college working at a frame shop for miscellaneous crud, which shows up usually after a picture has been framed). I took it apart again, cleaned it again, secured and sealed it again, and then had to protect it for shipping. Two hours later, it was finally sealed up with about a mile of tape, a box inside a box, surrounded by every piece of bubble wrap and foam wrap that I could scrounge, and filled with packing paper and those bubble pillows. Phew. (I also cleaned out our box department, where those cardboard containers have been multiplying in the dark, because finding 2 appropriate boxes was a project in and of itself.)

More Work

Since I was hot and dirty, I decided to face the mess in my studio, where we unloaded boxes and stacks of paintings after bringing it all home (except for 4 pencil drawings, a few books, and a large stack of cards).

I went through the paintings and drawings, chose my favorites, and began hanging them. There was a loud crash, and I turned back to see that the wire on the back of a pencil drawing came out of the frame. I guess the screw hole was stripped. The glass didn’t break, so it wasn’t all bad. (Yes, I know I am not storing the flag correctly. I also need to vacuum again. Probably need to dust too, and clean the windows.)

Then I had to pack all the rest into the painting workshop, which has a swamp cooler, and a lot of shelves, which all need to be rearranged and cleaned. Never mind. I’d rather draw.

Drawing

Finally, I was able to do some artwork. I chose the colors that seem to best match Texas bluebonnets, colored one, and then decided to show the customers before I finish the flowers. I can lighten the colors a bit, but I cannot erase. (I think that this photo is a bit exaggerated in its darkness.)

Everything felt too hard, too full of obstacles. So, I ran away for a few days. Maybe I’ll tell you about it later.

Still want to be an artist when you grow up?

P.S. The studio only looked like this for a day because one of the stores that sells my work suddenly had a lot of space to fill!

And Another Commissioned Pencil Drawing

Same customers, similar approach, different state.

This new pencil commission is looking across a driveway at a vineyard with the Sierra* in the distance.

The customers provided current photos of the view, but now the vineyard is gone and almond (or peach? plum? nectarine?) trees are in their place.

So, I went exploring on the interwebs, and I took photos while driving to Tulare to retrieve my art from “Around Here”. (solo show in August—I’ll tell you more about it later.)

Looking at the provided photos and emailed conversations, I did a first draft sketch.

The customers (who communicate VERY WELL!) asked that I move our viewpoint to the left, include a redwood (probably coastal, AKA sequoia sempervirens), and the brick planter/mailbox, while deleting the California flag and leaving out the color in the freesias.

Sketch #2

More will be revealed (and drawn) in the fullness of time.

*My very wise dad taught me that the proper title of our mountains is “the Sierra”, NOT “the Sierras”. Now you know.

P.S. Yes, I know what today is. Sigh. Tryna just pretend that all is well here in the world, not tryna be disrespectful.

Instruct me, Please

When working on custom art, which involves combining multiple photos and verbal or written instructions, there must be much communication.

My customers for the Texas drawing said to lower the bluebonnets to keep them inside the fence, since if they are outside the fencing, the cattle eat them.

I keep accidentally thinking of the bluebonnets as lupine, and I made them inside the fence, outside the fence, and too tall, because I didn’t know how to fill the space. My answer to most empty space questions is wildflowers.*

In response to their helpful information about those voracious cattle, I lowered the lupine bluebonnets and added some fencing wire.

Then I photographed each corner and emailed the customers with this request: Instruct me, please!

Colored pencil doesn’t erase (some does, but not well), so until I learn what the fencing actually looks like in real life, this drawing will have to wait.

*Remember this?

More From the Drawing Table

When we last looked at this challenging pencil commission of a Texas scene, it looked like this.

When I don’t know where to begin, I just pick something that is somewhat concrete, something with a photo to follow, rather than work on the things I have to make up. So, distant trees, grass, and tractor. Yeppers, I can draw those.

Next, the Texas state flag in color. This was fun. Luckily, I was somewhat obsessed by that flag while in Texas last year so I had several photos. I had to flip the photo horizontally so that it flies into the scene rather than the more conventional left-to-right orientation.

Next, I tackled the close fence and gate, and then looked up Texas bluebonnets online. (I was in Texas too late for the bluebonnets; guess I’ll have to go in April next time.)

Because this is a bit of a made up subject in the drawing, I took it only this far, outlining them for the customers to approve or make suggestions. It’s too risky to put the color in until I know the size and placements are what the customers like. In commissioned pieces, I am simply a hired pencil.

While waiting to hear back, I put in the sky, tightened up edges, lightened some parts, and darkened others. You can see that I left the lower right corner empty. If the left corner is approved, I’ll be able to somewhat duplicate the sizes on the right side.

This last drawing is scanned. . . the paper is a little too big for my scanner, but I might be able to make it work if the customers want to reproduce it as cards or prints. (I hope they don’t, but I am willing. It will mean a lot of time messing with the scanner and Photoshop Junior.)

P.S. Just heard from the customers, asking that the deer be erased, which I am more than happy to do. They also instructed me about the flowers, which we’ll discuss tomorrow.

Back at the Drawing Table

I told you that I have a very challenging drawing commission. Well yippee skippee, I finally had a pair of minutes to concentrate on the project. It is almost more of a design problem than an is-this-even-possible problem, like those tiny faces back in the winter. (Visible as Item #10 on Ten New Things Learned in February)

This is one of several many photos provided by the customers.

Nothing to do but just pull out some pencils, a sheet of 14×17 “ paper, and see if I can lay out the basics. (Crying or pulling out my hair would have been unhelpful.)

This commission would not be possible without the extensive communication with the customers. I am combining about a dozen photos, adding and moving all sorts of things, figuring out sizes and placements that are believable and pleasing and make sense to the customers.

I moved from my drafting table to the desk behind me because the morning light coming in the window made it impossible to see my laptop screen. Yeppers, this techno-resister now draws more from her screen than from paper photos. (I even drive an automatic car now, but still prefer manual and do NOT own a microwave, so there.)

In figuring out how to make sense of the tractor size and placement, I outlined it on tracing paper and then started moving it around the drawing to see where the size and placement made the most sense.

A friend used to visit me regularly in my studio and ask, “How in the world do you do that?” My answer was usually, “One quarter inch at a time.” This drawing might be more like an eighth inch at a time.

Yep. Those are Wilsonia books on the desk. Want one?

Because all my art was in Tulare while I was working on this commission, I was able to stick it on the wall for taking photos to send to the customers with each new batch of questions.

The gate in the foreground looked too small so I did the tissue thing, making it bigger, and then sending it to the customers for their approval. I also asked about the flags because they had asked for the American flag on top and the Texas flag below. While in Texas last year, I learned that Texas is the only state that flies its flag at the same height as the American flag because they used to be a sovereign nation. Texans are very proud of their state, and I posted about how that lone star appears in all sorts of unexpected places.

The bigger gate was better (because this is Texas? Nope, because it looked correct). And the American flag got ditched for just the lone star flag, now flapping into the scene.

This was the result of a long uninterrupted (HALLELUJAH!) day at the drawing table.

Who knows when I’ll have another day like this? Looking forward to it. . . there are trees, a tractor, grass, a flag, and Texas bluebonnets waiting for my attention, but these lovely customers are not pressuring me at all. And after drawing for about 8 hours straight, (okay, a couple of breaks, and a lot of staring and questioning), it was time to stop before I got careless and did something stupid. (You are shocked?? Sorry to disappoint you, but I do stupid things sometimes.)