Piños Point Lighthouse was pulling me, just like that Rocky Creek Bridge. I love architecture and really like to paint (and draw) a blend of man-made and God-made subjects.
The trouble was that the lighthouse has very limited hours. By the time I finished painting at Lover’s Point Park, there were only 1-1/2 hours hour left when the lighthouse would be open. Since it cost to get in, I didn’t think such a limited time was worth the money—by the time I got set up and really into the painting, it would be time to go. So, I drove around looking for a few different views.
I finally found a place next to the adjoining golf course with the lighthouse in the distance. It isn’t perched on the cliffs, but is back a ways. You can see it isn’t ideal, but sometimes an artist has to do what she has to do.
This time I decided to draw directly on the canvas panel, to save some time.
Now, where will I put my little stool? There is no space, and it makes me too low. My main limitation (besides finding a parking place) was that when I sit, there are often shrubs blocking the view. In this case, it was a picket fence.
AHA! I will sit on Fernando’s hood, a less than ideal situation, but remember, sometimes an artist has to do what she has to do.
I got a few basics down, and realized it was ridiculous to paint that way. The slant of the hood (“HEY! Get back here, paintbrush/palette knife/palette/paper towel!”) along with the wind raging from the ocean behind me made it untenable. So, I took some photos to use later.
Forget this. I am a studio painter, and I need to sit quietly and look at my photos to complete this painting. I returned to Asilomar and set up in the living room of the lodge where I was staying.
Alrighty then! I like this, and will like it better when I detail it to pieces.
This was a good way to end my 6 days of painting at Fall Color Week at Asilomar. I will show you some other parts of the week in a few more blog posts.
Five days of painting plein air should have built some skill and some confidence. I learned two things: I paint better alone, and I paint better when there is no sense of being rushed. So, I headed to a place called Lover’s Point Park in downtown Pacific Grove.
I skipped the morning Rah-rah meeting—fun, painting tips, instructions but a waste of good painting time, left earlyish in my own car, and found a perfect parking place in the shade. It was close to a wall where I could sit with the borrowed easel box on my lap and my stuff on the wall next to me. Before setting up, I walked around a bit to choose a location. Yes, I was influenced by the proximity to Fernando (my car).
Next, a sketch. Choosing a view and doing these sketches reminds me of choosing something from a dinner menu at a great restaurant. Anything is great, so there’s no need to spend a lot of time dithering.
This’ll do.
Let’s go!! I felt confident enough to paint 11×14″, knowing that no one was waiting for me to finish, and not getting all bowed up about how fast the light was changing. I also didn’t overhear anyone else talking about “gorgeous light”, “yummy colors”, or “a pop of color”, or how they needed to “scrape” their painting because it was awful. All this chitchat stresses me out, although I can’t say exactly why that is.
It’s always good to step back, something that’s a bit harder to do when sitting with an easel box in one’s lap.
Might be good to photograph the scene again.
I kind of like this one, but still think I can do better in the studio. It was a fun place to paint, with lots of people stopping by to admire or ask questions. I talked to 3 little kids who all love to draw, and gave each one a business card, “free art”.
The fog came in thick. We had planned to go to Big Sur, and took the chance that the fog would have cleared.
Nope. Our hope was to go the viewpoint just north of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, where a big deal painter named Bill told us to go in order to paint his favorite view of any place on the coast around Monterey. We could see exactly nothing.
I asked Roomie if she knew what was special about it, and she said it is the only place in California (or the west coast? or the world??) where a waterfall hits the ocean.
Move on, folks. Nothing to see here.
We were tired, had a lot of things scheduled that day including the evening, and didn’t want to hoof it down the trail lugging out painting gear, risk it looking too foggy, only to have 2 hours before we had to head back (we were maybe 1-1/2 hours from Asilomar).
We leaned over a bridge in the park to look at the stream which becomes the waterfall.
These are sequoia sempervirens, not our sequoias, which are sequoia gigantea.
Painting-wise, it was a disappointing day. No bridge, no Big Sur view, only one painting. But Roomie and I enjoyed each other’s company and enjoyed the drive. The last time I was on that road was on foot, in April of 2010. A friend and I walked the Big Sur 21-Miler. It was awesome! (The photos look a little weird in that post because WordPress is like every other tech platform, always updating, which we all know is a euphemism for “complication”.)
Day 5 was scheduled for painting at Rocky Creek/Rocky Point, and Rocky Creek bridge, which is shaped like the Oak Grove Bridge (but built 10 years later.) We drove to Rocky Point Restaurant, which is closed, but has a decent parking lot and some trails out to the point.
Looks easier than waves.
Better do a sketch first to see if all is well with this arrangement (“composition” in Artspeak). Yeppers, I can really draw, but little sketches like this serve as a map for how I hope the painting will turn out. I made the water area larger than it actually appeared while I was perched on my little stool, feet propped on a rock.
This one felt like a slog. I really wanted to paint that bridge, but it was tiny in the distance and barely visible in the mist and morning sun. I hadn’t driven so I couldn’t go looking for a better spot, and Roomie’s car was a rental so I couldn’t borrow it. Nobody was heading back to Asilomar so that I could get my car, so I just buckled down to work.
There was a crew of about 3 guys working. “What are you doing?” “Collecting seeds to rehab”. I learned later that the rehab project was paid for by a private individual. They were getting the fuzz from coyote bush, and one other that they didn’t know the name of in English.
Oh-oh, here comes the fog.
Bye-bye, view. Guess I’ll have to finish this from memory.
The view was gone-zo, just like the easel that I broke up with on Monday. I guess everyone out there on the point were also painting from memory.
Someone named Ryan Something-or-other was painting the painters while making a video about plein air painting.
I’m guessing it will be available for sale on Streamline Publishing in a few months.
I thought this lady looked kind of neato painting in the fog.
We were told that Carmel Beach was voted the Best Beach in the country. Or maybe it was on the west coast, or maybe “just” in California. It was tricky to find parking, and a place to paint sitting down in the shade. I found a low bench but was still able to peer over the shrubbery and through the cypress trees.
This time I used a miniature pochade (pronounced “po-SHOD”) box with a bungie cord holding the 8×10″ canvas board. Since I was on a bench, I put my palette next to me. The box lid is the support, but it wobbles because I dropped it in the workshop a week before I left and busted a hinge. Sigh. It has an attachable palette, but I didn’t want one more little thing to struggle with and ultimately get paint all over stuff because I was unfamiliar with how it worked.
Good enough to fix later. I NEED to walk on the beach!
The water was much farther away than it appeared, and the waves were MUY FABULOSO.
That gal waited until the waves got a bit tamer, and then she went in. I told her that I thought she was brave, and as I was waiting to see what she was going to do with those massive waves, I began to wonder if she was suicidal. She said that she might have been if she didn’t cool off from the terrible heat wave. What, 85°??
I could have stayed there all day. I keep thinking that if I stare at the waves long enough, I will understand how to make them look good in 2-dimensions. But without a camera, I don’t think I can really get a sense of where they are dark, light, fuzzy, clean-edged, and the patterns of water movement.
Every moment is filled. There are too many places to see, too many people to meet, too many places to paint. So, today’s blog will only show the morning painting session on Day 4.
Roomie and I skipped the morning announcements and found our way to the Carmel Mission. I love those 21 missions and give the credit to my 4th grade teacher at Ivanhoe Elementary School. I drew the Carmel Mission a long time ago.
The mission seems to be more of a museum than a church now , not opening until 10 a.m., and charging admission, so Roomie and I set up behind an elevated cross where we could look over the wall into the courtyard.
I propped my borrowed easel minus a tripod on the wall, and started with a horizontal format.
Nope, the tower was too tall so I flipped the canvas around. Looks square in this photo, but it is vertical, 8×10″.
This is the view, and that tree blocked the rose window. Nothing to be done except to try and paint the tree.
Roomie and I painted together, and I quit before she did. She is accustomed to plein air painting and knows how to push through to a completed painting whereas I reach a point where I just give up, figuring on fixing all the messed up places later.
So, while I waited for her, I walked to the gate and held the camera on the other side of the slats for this photo.
There were so many flowers in bloom in the garden, both inside the gate and outside. This is Lady Banks rose, which blooms in about April in Three Rivers.
Check out the matiliha (matilija? matilijah?) poppies!
Good enough. I want to finish this at home, get all the architectural details right and fix that dominant tree. I don’t know why it was so hard. I texted my friend JC this observation: plein air is desperately difficult.
But I KNOW I can make this painting look better (when I can reclaim my life and have some uninterrupted studio time!)
One last photo, and then we headed to our next destination for afternoon painting. I think I could fill two weeks of just painting at the Carmel Mission (and then taking them all home to fix).
Day three was a test of my gear: could I fit what I needed into my trusty red daypack and carry my 3-legged stool under one arm and the loaner pochade box in my other hand along a trail?
Yeppers.
We started at Garrapata State Park, along the bluffs on Highway One.
We painted all morning, then headed to Point Lobos. (I wonder if there were ever wolves there??) We were hot and tired after several hours of painting in the sun, but my roommate said that I HAD to see China Cove (she had done reconnaissance the previous day).
Well holy guacamole, it was spectacular! Several people, including my roomie, stopped at a particular spot, but I wanted to explore a bit farther. Look at these options!
ABC
A blew me away with the color, and it was where my little group set up. B was my first choice, but there was no place to set up without blocking the trail. (We were warned that we’d get a ticket if we blocked the trail or set up off the trail.) C was also quite intriguing, but again, there was a lack of set-up space. I also considered another place because it had a bench, but the view was meh compared to those first three.
So, I ventured back to my little group and just got in line because there was space and there was shade.
This photo doesn’t do justice to the green-blue of the water.
I was contending with the cable at the edge of the trail.
I didn’t take a good final photo. I’ll have to finish and scan it when I get home so you can see it.
It was a good painting day, almost finishing 2 paintings, with only detail left to really polish them off. Thursday is a day in and around Carmel.
P.S. There are so many other things about this adventure to share besides my painting progression and locations. I might continue the series next week after I am back home.
On Day 1, we stayed at Asilomar. People needed to get accustomed to their equipment, the schedule, the weather, the whole situation, so it made sense to stay on the premises, which are walking distance to the ocean.
Our room is so tiny that I am keeping my supplies in the trunk of the car. After assembling what I thought would be useful for the morning painting session, I headed to the beach. My easel is heavy and cumbersome, so when I saw this, I thought it might be a good place to paint.
But the ocean was calling me, so I soldiered onward.
Is that PEBBLE BEACH, the fancy golf course over there??
After walking around a bit, taking a few photos, and thinking about the options, I did one quick sketch to confirm my choice.
Next, I wrestled with my heavy, rebellious excuse of an easel, finally getting it situated.
Here is a series of progression photos.
The painting was interspersed by conversation with passersby and other painters. We were told that it is best to not look at other people’s work while painting because it causes discontent and do-overs. As a result, there was much joking about wiping off canvas and starting again after seeing other’s efforts.
Painters were set up all along the beach.
The painting session was also interrupted by occasional walks into the water.
The kelp was very thick, and although I didn’t see a single shell, I did encounter this jellyfish.
I took one final useless photo, thinking it would show me the scene in order to finish the painting later. Alas, it was too bright out to see the screen of the camera, hence the “useless” description.
I didn’t really like my painting, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it better and it was hot. Didn’t matter, because this is all about practicing and learning. So, I headed to the other spot that I had chosen in the morning. It was in the shade, rather chilly, which was a nice change. An employee of Asilomar stopped by where several of us were setting up to remind us of the “excessive heat warning”. I almost fell down laughing but managed to restrain myself.
I’m liking this one and will definitely finish it later. I even got one final useful photo because I was able to see the screen of the camera. (Okay, not so useful. You can see how the light changes over the course of 2 hours.)
However, I am wondering where to buy a new easel and if I can find a trash can large enough to accommodate this sorry excuse of a plein air easel.
My sister and brother-in-law hold a big yard sale once every year or two. We work well together “playing store”, and many other people bring their items. It is a tremendous amount of work to make sure all items are in top shape, priced with the seller’s initials, setting up tables (which often get brought from other participants), and working the displays to look the best possible. We create “departments” in our “store”, and work them all day long to keep them orderly and appealing. Talking to people, helping them find what they are seeking, keeping track of the sales so the money goes to the right person, finding a box or bag as needed. . . these were 3 long days of prep and selling.
This is Day 2 with 1/2 as much merchandise.Toys were the biggest seller; Christmas decor the least desired category.
We tried to fit a walk in around the neighborhood each day I was there, and the yards were so beautiful. It is fascinating to see what people can grow when there aren’t deer or 100+ degree days (although they had a few before I arrived).
My favorite house on our regular walks.
Attending a church with more members than the population of Three Rivers is always a thrill. The staff has more folks than attend my church on any regular Sunday. They actually played a game in the minutes before the service started—Will wonders ever cease for me in the land of Giant Churches?
We picked blueberries one morning. Blueberries are a perfect you-pick crop—no thorns, no bugs, no heat. I only brought home 16 pounds this year since we didn’t bring any husbands or reluctant child laborers with us. I could have picked much longer, but our list of errands that day was extensive.
Everything in Oregon was beautiful, including the areas across the street from the U-Pick Farm (Fordyce).
Leaving was both difficult (I love my Oregon family and friends and only see them once a year) and urgent (I love home). On the previous 2 Oregon driving trips, I stopped at a friend’s place north of Sacramento because it is a chance to be together. However, this year I just felt compelled to get home. It could have been the 2 texts from different friends (in Visalia and Exeter) asking if we were okay because they could see flames up our way. (Turned out to be fine). Or it could have been a delusion that driving 13 hours in one day is no big thing. (It IS a Big Thing.)
If I’d been a passenger, there’d be more scenery photos. So much to paint, but there’s not a lot of market for these images among my tens of followers.
When someone drives the same long route multiple times, there are highlights along the way, specific places and sites to watch for. In Oregon, I used to see a covered bridge on the east side of 5, but it hasn’t shown up for several years and I have forgotten the name in order to look it up on the web.
I saw an enormous number of hubcaps each time the highway made a strong curve, the kind that warns you of your speed and tells you to drop to 50 mph. (No photos of hubcaps because I had both hands firmly placed on the wheel.) In Northern California, Mt. Shasta is a big landmark, nay, A HUGE landmark. Truck Village, south of Weed is fun to see.
South of Red Bluff, it goes flat, so there isn’t much that compels me to take pictures. The shadows on these hills somewhere north of Coalinga/Harris Ranch caught my attention. By then I stopped caring exactly where I was as long as I was heading home.
There were only 2 traffic situations: one was a wreck south of Sacramento that left debris in the road, causing people to crawl along to dodge it. The other was roadwork at dusk, where we got squeezed into one lane and eventually were driving on the paved shoulder. It was interesting to see three CHPs with their flashing lights, present to support CalTrans, I guess. I was completely surrounded by big rigs
Thirteen hours and 10 minutes after leaving Salem, Oregon, I staggered into my own house, stupid tired and happy and relieved.
Trail Guy was happy too, not just to have me home, but also to have our good pick-’em-up truck back.
People think that Oregon is green, and you may have heard it said that in Oregon, people don’t tan—they rust. In August, Oregon is golden. There are barns, lots of trees, and golden fields, hills, countryside. There are many rolling hills, some steep grades and curves with lots of warning signs about excessive speeds, and signs that warn you of your current speed and say to slow down. It is beautiful to me, and maybe it is more beautiful because it isn’t hot like at home.
It didn’t take long to get from Weed to the Oregon border, a wimpy little 300 mile morning drive in contrast to the boring 468 miles on the previous day.
I got to Salem in time to go with my sister to a hair salon, and then the beautician (is that the right title?) fit me in for a haircut. Isn’t that funny? I went 3 years without a haircut, then got one in Texas and next another in Oregon. Where shall I get my hair cut next time??
Oregon seems ideal in the summer. Enough sun, not hot, and incredible gardening! Of course they have many wet cold days in the winter, which is much longer than what passes for winter in Central California, but in summer it is fabulous.
To top off all the gloriousness, I was able to help a special girl learn a few things about colored pencils.
Hey! That makes this a business trip.
Never mind. We only acknowledge Fernando in tax prep as the vehicle for business. Oh well.
