The wonder of the interwebs has brought me a customer that I most likely will never have the pleasure of meeting in person. Let’s call the customer Mr. J. Mr. J and I have gotten acquainted in the comment section of The Frugal Girl blog, and he asked me to paint the home he used to own. “Used to own” means that getting photos is now a bit tricky. New owners almost always make changes, so I am working from several photos, all taken from different viewpoints and at different times in the home’s existence.
Mr. J is a very precise communicator, responsive, specific, and always willing to email, text or talk on the phone.
The project began with an email almost a year ago. We discussed canvas sizes and prices. Mr. J wanted to wait until spring to get photos with certain plants in bloom. Spring came and went with no photos. I’ve learned through the decades that until money exchanges hands, it is simply conversation. I didn’t bug him, knowing that he is a person who will follow through when he is ready.
This past summer, or perhaps early fall, he sent me photos and a deposit check for half down, so we were in business.
Looking through multiple photos taken from different angles, in different seasons, and at different times in the house’s life, I started with a colored pencil sketch, which I scanned and emailed for feedback.
Mr. J sent it back to me in this form: black and white, covered with notes.
I studied it, and realized we needed to have a conversation. We talked quite awhile, and I made lots of notes. The conversation was very helpful in understanding things that made no sense in the multiple photographs.
When I realized the degree of detail that Mr. J wants, I suggested a pencil drawing. He was unsure, because the finished piece will be displayed with other paintings of other buildings. I sent examples of my detailed architectural drawings, and a week or two later, he replied that oil was his preference.
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.
(SHARON, I moved the picture of the calendar back to lower on this post so you can skip it.)
Around Here—and Sometimes a Little Farther, 2026 is a collection of new pencil drawings by your Central California artist.
The drawings are mostly rural scenes, mostly from this often overlooked location in the heart of California. As a life-long resident of Tulare County, I continually seek out what it is that keeps me here. Pencil remains my favorite medium.
The price of $25 includes tax in California (unless Paypal goes rogue and adds it in, something over which I have no control and some angst). Cabinart will also pay for postage within the USA, because I know you could easily skip buying a calendar, and I wish to express my gratitude to you for liking my art.
I also wish to let you know that I only have 100 for sale this year, and when they are gone, it’s hasta la vista, baby!
All the drawings with the exception of the pier are for sale.
I’ve been getting my art printed on notecards since 1987. In the olden days, a package consisted of 2 each of 5 designs. In the olden days, people communicated on cards and mailed them with a stamp rather than talking into a little machine and tapping something. This meant that I had 1000s of cards printed at a time. Some of those pressruns produced uneven amounts of cards in a set, which meant leftovers.
What if I make packages of those old designs and sell them at a discount? There are six different designs, all in random amounts in a box, collecting dust on a shelf.
The ones circled in red are what is available. (For the curious reader*, the sets from left to right are Kings Canyon, Sequoia, and Tulare County Landmarks.)
These were printed a long time ago. If someone had told me back then that I would become a blogger (a what??), an oil painter, a painter of murals, a knitter, a resident of Three Rivers, and that I would drive an automatic transmission car, I would have laughed out loud in disbelief. (And if someone would have said “LOL”, I would have looked at them with puzzlement. It used to mean “Little Old Lady”.)
Okay, decision made, packages compiled. Each package contains 4 different cards (and envelopes), mostly chosen at random with the exception of the first one on the upper left below. I have more of that drawing than any other, so every package contains one of those. They will be $5 a package, as opposed to my current cards. (The current ones are $10 a package and are all the same design within a single package.) These will be potluck.
It will cost too much to mail them, so they will only be available in person at the upcoming Holiday Bazaar.
*For the Very Curious Reader, the drawings from left to right, top to bottom: Kings Canyon overlook, General Sherman Tree, Four Guardsmen, Clover Creek Bridge, Exeter Woman’s Club (yeppers, that is the correct spelling), the Hilliard House (burned down in 1983 but never forgotten around here.)
No reason for this photo. Just hoping to make you smile.
Some recent thinking has led to this listicle for you.
The Ivanhoe Library mural is getting closer. I am waiting on several decisions that are outside of my power.
My hope is to begin the week of November 10, but since the library is only open on Tuesdays and Fridays, and I teach drawing lessons on Tuesdays, this project could take a V E R Y L O N G T I M E.
The annual Holiday Bazaar at the Three Rivers Memorial Building is scheduled for November 22 this year. I haven’t participated in quite a few years, and this year I hope to do so.
If I don’t participate in the occasional bazaar, boutique, festival, or fair, people forget about my art.
When going through my notecards to decide which designs to reprint, I had a good idea. Maybe… I’m thinking about packaging leftover notecards from old pressruns (when I sold assortments) and selling them at a discount. This requires more thought, perhaps even another blogpost while I bore you to pieces with my thought process.
The 2026 calendar is completed but not yet revealed or on my website or ready to be sold.
Waiting for a special size canvas to arrive for one oil commission with a deadline and to decipher some notes for a special commission without a deadline. . .
In case the previous elephant didn’t make you smile, maybe this one will do the trick.
While I am wading through unbloggable territory, I’ve been able to attend to some of the business of art. This means lots of computer and phone time, along with digging around in filing cabinets. The phone time isn’t as awful as when you actually need assistance, because most companies are available with live humans if you are spending money with them.
B O R I N G
It had been quite awhile since I stocked up on supplies. This meant chasing down old invoices and lists and emails to discover product item numbers, or what size a customer requested, or doing inventory to see if certain things were actually needed. I made lists of what is here and there, up in that basket, out in the workshop, in a filing cabinet, in a drawer, on the spinning cardrack. Then I evaluated what I really need alongside what I might be able to use if it only takes a few more dollars spent to qualify for free shipping.
B O R I N G.
I ordered old notecards, new notecards, this year’s Christmas card, clear bags for packaging, blank boards for packaging drawings, canvases, and drawing paper. The goods came from three businesses plus from three different sellers on eBay. Almost all orders qualified for free shipping.
B O R I N G
At least I have internet access, experience to wrestle through the various sites, a laptop that knows my passwords and user names, a phone that works (mostly) to call businesses when their websites don’t work, the time to get it all handled, and money to pay for these things.
So there. In all the boredom, I can find some thankfulness.
Five of these pencil drawings sold at my solo show in Tulare, “Around Here (and Sometimes a Little Farther)”. The others were pencil commissions, which I showed you with all the slow developments in painstaking detail.
I almost didn’t include this one in the show because I forgot. I may have forgotten subconsciously on purpose, due to my inordinate love of ocean scenes.
I drew this one specifically for the show, and although sales are thrilling, I was sort of hoping to keep it. (What kind of a business person am I with this attitude?)
This is too big for my scanner, so the photograph isn’t the quality of those shown above. HOWEVER, the drawing was quite excellent, if I do say so myself, which I just did say.
Same disclaimer on quality as above.
I love pencil. Did you know that?
Thus we conclude another post about the business of art, because. . .
Using pencils, oil paint, and murals, I make art that you can understand of places and things you love for prices that won’t scare you.
These “Sold” posts are mostly to reassure myself that I’m not just drawing and painting for the fun of it. They serve a secondary purpose in reminding my tens of readers that I accept commissions (lest you think I am a prima donna who only creates what I “feel like” creating) and that I do sell my work (lest you think I just prefer to cover my walls with my own art.)
I distorted the proportions of West Florence and Vandever in this painting. I hope someone from far away bought it so that they don’t notice my “artistic license”.
Most of these sold at the Silver City Store, four miles below Mineral King. The sequoia paintings mostly sold at both of the stores which sell for me in Three Rivers (Kaweah Arts and Stem & Stone). One sequoia painting was a commissioned piece for a long time friend and customer, and another was to some new friends/customers.
If it weren’t for all those folks passing through town on their way to Sequoia National Park, I’d be sure that only my friends and relatives buy from me. It is thrilling when a stranger likes my art enough to part with their hard-earned pieces of green paper with dead presidents’ faces on them.
Tomorrow I’ll show you all the pencil drawings that sold. You’ve seen most of them already, so it will be reruns for you.
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.
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!
