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.
Last century I drew this picturesque church in Tulare and used the image in a set of Tulare County landmarks notecards.
Yesterday I finally got to see the interior of the church when I made a presentation to a group of folks who meet for lunch and a presentation once a month. (I don’t know the name of the group but it is the historic Tulare Congregational Church.)
This is the first time in my life that a church event began with champagne!
Fret not, this was before most of the group arrived.
I prepared a powerpoint presentation called God Showed Up, which was an overview of my unlikely career of artist in a place that can barely afford to keep gas in their cars, phones up-to-date, and acrylic on their nails. This could be a slight exaggeration, but you get the point. The only explanation for all the unexpected events and apparent success (I’m still here, still producing work!) is that God intervened in my career.
They requested that I come an hour early. Good thing, because it took an entire hour to figure out how to get the projector to work with my thumb drive. Maybe the champagne was a good idea to take the edge off. (Nope, not me, because I don’t imbibe.)
I loved seeing the place, getting reacquainted with some folks I’d met before, and meeting some new folks. They were good listeners and seemed interested.
Making presentations is just one element of my little art business, and it is a more enjoyable way for me to meet people and keep my work visible than doing the art/craft fairs, festivals, bazaars and boutiques.
P.S. Lunch was outstanding, because it came from the wonderful Tulare restaurant called The Eden Cafe..
November means the end of colored leaves. The promise of spring in a few months will keep me from descending into the Slough of Despondence, as will the fun of learning new things, completing commissions, working on a mural, and resuming drawing lessons in January.
1. There is lots of disrespect on the road when driving an old vehicle. While I was on the freeway getting to the mechanic, people tailgated and roared past, without regard to the fact that I was keeping up with traffic. And yet, when I got to town, everyone I interacted with expressed great interest in and respect for the Botmobile. A bonus thing learned is that our Botmobile is the same model featured in the movie Back to the Future.
2. It matters who you get at the post office counter. It cost $4.50 to send 2 packages of notecards to Northern California, and then it cost $2.44 to send the same thing to Southern California. This is the result how the postal worker interprets the contents, and how he/she labels it – media mail? large envelope? small package? So, while I am always happy to see all the employees in my PO, I do tend to favor some over others.
3. Mystery writer Robert B. Parker died in 2010. His books had an appealing offbeat sense of humor, but I’ve long since stopped reading murder mysteries. I was puzzled to see three different authors’ books in the library titled “Robert B. Parker’s [title specific word]. Apparently Parker’s estate has granted permission to multiple authors to continue his various series. They even copy the same typestyle that Parker used on his books.
This photo is in a branch of my bank. I photographed the photo because it is Farewell Gap in Mineral King!
4. This Evergreen Home is a thoughtful blog that I’ve mentioned here before. A recent post, Save Your Money—26 things to stop buying in 2026, caused me to almost break my arm patting myself on the back. This is the way I have lived for decades. Gold star, please!
Making wreaths from pruning in my own yard, and enjoying my cats are definitely frugal activities.
5. I mowed the lawn. Well, I started with some careful instruction, but Trail Guy took over. I only allow one mowing on our little lawn per year in an ongoing attempt to get it fuller, via self-seeding and roots (no idea how it actually works) and transplanting clumps from the back of the house which was lawn a quarter of a century ago and still produces a few clumps a year. So, the annual mowing is a bit of a project.
Tucker loves the tall grass.
6. I learned (AGAIN!) that participation in small bazaars and arts/craft shows is probably more trouble than it is worth. However, with low attendance, there was abundant time to visit with each person who came into my space.
7. This personalized license plate caught my attention.
8. Through another blog (Hi Elisabeth!) I found a wonderful recipe for Lasagne Soup. As someone who views recipes as just suggestions and guidelines, this one seems to turn out great no matter how many things I just substituted or tossed in or did without.
9. Two great new words: pecksniffian and snollygoster. Look them up!
Buckle up, settle back, get comfortable, because here is a Very Long Post. It is not a complaint; it is a hard look at reality.
On the surface, it seems that the life of an artist is all glamour and glory and unlimited creativity. Maybe that is true for some artists, but I don’t know those people. (I may have met one or two, but they didn’t remain in my memory.)
The reality is that to earn a living with art, particularly in the 3rd poorest and least educated county in the state, you’d better use your creativity in more ways than just making art.
Booth all set up, ready to sell!
A few years ago, someone important to me expressed surprise that I still participate in arts and crafts shows. Bazaars, boutiques, fairs, festivals—those little events that attract makers of all sorts of wares, usually those who do the making as a side hustle, always wishing they were “lucky enough” to do it full time.
As I thought about what my Important Someone said, “I thought you were beyond those by now”, I realized that I wished I was beyond those. Maybe I should find other ways to sell my work while keeping in the public eye. Maybe I should aim higher, and just stop doing those shows which I have always found so draining.
“Draining?”
I can do the work: plan, design, and order enough inventory in a wide variety of different prices, price everything clearly, decide the best way to display the items (so it looks like a nice boutique instead of a garage sale), find all the parts and pieces to put it together, figure out how to load it into cars and pickups (I used to do a show which required my dad’s pickup, Michael’s pickup, and my car, along with both my parents’ and Michael’s help to set up), and finally, figure out how to publicize it in every corner, every tribe, every location of my life, all in preparation for a hard day or two or three. This isn’t draining, only time-consuming, and it cuts into the production time needed to complete commissioned work..
“Hard”?
I can stand there all day, because if I was working in a retail store or a restaurant, that would be required. I can meet people, talk to them, learn their names, listen to them tell me about their friends or family members or themselves who draw or paint or cartoon or used to do those things. I can help them choose what fits their budget, hand out business cards, talk to them about drawing and painting and drawing lessons and murals, tell them about my daily blog, discuss commissions, and just be UP and ON all day. I can refuse to pack up early, then load it all back into boxes and crates and into the vehicles and transport it home and unload it, and yawn and limp to the bank the next available business day.
HOWEVER, I am an introvert, (albeit one with social skills and professionalism), so these shows take awhile to recover from. All that talking. All those people. All that energy and noise and cheeriness. Afterward, I need SILENCE. PEACE. SOLITUDE. Then, if the show has not been well-attended, or if it is hot, or if it is cold, or if sales were poor. . . validation comes from people giving you green pieces of paper with dead presidents’ faces, and without that validation comes all the thinking, evaluating, questioning, wondering, speculating.
The world has changed in the 30+ years I’ve been doing these shows. Publicity, demographics and economics are all different now.
PUBLICITY
Everyone gets his news from a different source, rather than a single local newspaper or billboards and banners on specific routes, or local radio stations. Facebook? —only those folks they follow; Instagram? —only the folks they are connected to; TikTo? k—I know nothing; local websites? —if they know about them.
DEMOGRAPHICS
There is a trend toward minimalism right now. People have inherited possessions from grandparents who grew up in the Depression and from parents who were raised by “Boomers” who have accumulated many possessions (some so many that there is no room to park a car in the garage), and now we all live in an era where anything can be had immediately and cheaply. To top it off, homes are smaller, younger people rent rather than own, and there is a strong bent to pay for experiences rather than possessions. Collecting anything is no longer common, and as far as I can tell, older people’s homes are already decorated while younger people don’t care about such frivolity.
ECONOMICS
Gas is $5/gallon, groceries haven’t dropped back down in price (although eggs are no longer $7/dozen and I recently paid a bit less than $4 for a pound of butter), cellphones cost a lot to keep updating (no longer does a single landline serve an entire household), and art is a luxury, especially when you have already inherited some, received some as gifts, bought inexpensive decor at Hobby Lobby, or simply prefer to frame a pretty card that someone sent you (because who actually sends real cards anymore?? This makes a card a real treasure.)
So, IF folks happen to stumble across an art fair, they might be inclined to stop simply for the experience. It is fun to see what people make, to talk to artists, to listen to a local musician and eat a Frito-boat (I guess it is, having never had one), to enter a raffle (because often “free” trumps minimalism), and to run into people you know doing likewise.
Does it make sense to continue participating in these shows? Do I need to do this so that I can meet new potential students and customers? Are there better ways to publicize? Has the era of the craft show come to an end? Is this the best way to remain in the public eye?
I can’t decide now. I’m going to limp off to the bank with a little pile of money from selling a pile of little things.
I had a job about 100 years ago at a vocational school. It was a terrible job, because one of my duties was to collect on unpaid student loans. One of my few good memories of working there was meeting a student named “Autumn Eve”. I didn’t get to know her very well (fraternization was discouraged between students and hired help), but I never forgot her name.
But I digress.
Let’s take a look at some autumn pictures in Three Rivers.
The flowering pear tree outside my studio is The Champion. (Not interested in hearing about native and non-native trees during Autumn, but thank you for your concern.) Chinese Pistache trees are also stunning this time of year. So there.
That was fun. Let’s do this again in a couple of days.
(Including you, Cousin Bruce. . . You did what you had to do because that is how we were raised, came home to national disrespect, married a wonderful woman, made great kids, and built a good life. I always looked up to you, both literally and figuratively. We will miss you.)
