I feel like a Mineral King oil painting factory. Where is the variety? Where is the creativity? What’s going on here??
Part of the business of art is understanding what sells, and producing what one’s customers want to buy. This means painting the same things many many times if necessary. (Or I could become a secretary, or maybe a waitress, or maybe move to a large city and go into full time editing. . . )
The business end involves these steps:
- Looking at what has sold in the past in what sort of percentages, both the subjects and sizes
- Locating the right photos, which isn’t too hard because I have a decent filing system
- Assigning inventory numbers and titles
- Recording those on the photos, the backs of the canvases, the written list for the studio and the list on the computer
- Putting hanging hardware on the backs of all the canvases
- Ordering new canvases because I don’t have enough for the number of planned paintings
- Taking photos or scanning the finished work
- Blogging about it
The creativity happens at many levels that aren’t visible in this ugly stage.
- Taking reference photos (over a series of years)
- Editing the photos (keep this one, fix that one, crop these)
- Deciding what sizes and shapes to paint (this needs to be rectangular, that might work as a square)
- Mixing the paint colors (How many painters do you know who only work from the primary colors, hmm???)
- Drawing the image on the canvases (Is this creative? or is it simply a skill? or does it qualify for anything, since I do so much adjusting while painting each new layer?)
- Blogging about it.
Wait, what? Blogging about it appears on both lists. Go figure. . .
Writing this all down makes me want a strong cup of coffee.
When all those green grasses are dry enough, I will add wildflowers. Then I will probably revisit some of the upper parts, add a few more details, correct some more color.
I’ll work on the middle left. Here’s a close-up of the before:
And here’s a close up of the after. The lighting has changed so it isn’t a completely fair comparison.
I drew it on, stepped back, and said, “Nope. Too much sky”.
With another color, I drew it again, stepped back, and said, “Yeppers, get the first layer on.” I did not actually vocalize these words, but the attitude was “HUBBA HUBBA! CHOP CHOP!! ANDALE ANDALE!!”
My plan is to use the colors and light and water from the photo on the right but the trees from the photo on the left. This plan isn’t evident just yet, particularly in light of the fact that those photos are too reflective for you to see.
Nice view from Lookout, the first glimpse of Sawtooth. Mostly we were thrilled by clear air!
The home site was farther than we expected along a sort of road that was very overgrown. There wasn’t much to photograph except the cedar trees and the fireplace. Isn’t it weird how that photo looks black and white, or maybe sepia toned??
We toodled on up to Redwood Creek (the 2 redwoods sometimes known as “Aunt Tillie and Uncle Pete”) for a quick lunch; the face flies were annoying because it was in the high 60s and low 70s out. Weird on December 28.
Trail Guy suggested that we go on up the hill to the Mineral King where there are no face flies. There is also no snow.
Crystal Creek has ice but is still flowing.
Sawtooth looked nice on the way back down the hill. It isn’t that nice – it simply appears to be nice. Wait, I mean it has a nice appearance. (I have a not-nice history with that peak. . . )
The upper half of the Mineral King road has potholes. The lower part has potholes, more potholes, crumbling edges and overgrown borders. The public’s frustration is expressed on the sign – look closely, and you will see so much frustration that the writer used a double negative, which contradicts his intent.
This may be the second most photographed cabin; it is near Cold Springs campground and gets great sun in the fall and winter. (Probably in the summer too, but we are further up the road, taking pictures of the first most photographed cabin instead.)
