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.
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!
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.
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.
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 IvanhoeCan 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.
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.
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.
Today we continue the assorted thoughts, all unrelated to one another and unrelated to Christmas Eve.
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.
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.
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.
Today will be a peek into the variety of tasks required so far this week to maintain the business of self-employed artist.
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.
