Deciding what to paint for the Silver City Store this coming summer felt like a daunting task. There is no excuse for procrastination, and the better I plan, the better the sales. So, suck it up, Buttercup.
The first step in planning is to look at the available Mineral King paintings. (For my out-of-the-area readers, Mineral King is a beautiful alpine valley in Sequoia National Park; each summer I sell art 4 miles below the valley at a resort in a little cabin community called “Silver City”.)
It also involves evaluating how many paintings sold, both by subject and by size. I am painting to satisfy a clientele, rather than just doing whatever “moves” me. Thank goodness it is all very beautiful.
This planning part isn’t so beautiful. It’s methodical, tedious, and would be easier if I had a crystal ball. Instead, I have records, intuition, common sense, and piles and piles of photos, both the paper variety and on the laptop.
It is helpful to line them out by subject and size.
It is also helpful to take a break and walk somewhere. (No powerlines in Mineral King or Silver City to clutter the views up there, because it is remote, the Land of No Electricity.)
Rosemary in bloom. . . so far this year, February has been impersonating spring.
Now I have ten new paintings to produce, ranging in size from 6×6” to 8×16” and 10×10”.
I’ve attached hanging hardware and assigned inventory numbers. Next I need to give them titles, such as “Sawtooth #209”.
Not really; I think it is only somewhere in the 60s.
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.
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.
Sales were slow this December. Actually, sales of oil paintings were slow all fall, beginning with the show in Tulare called “Around Here”, where no paintings and six pencil drawings sold.
However, during the fall season, a few paintings did move. These first two sold through Kaweah Arts, located in The Dome in Three Rivers.
The other two were commissioned paintings, neither one on a fast track, and both recently delivered into the hands of happy customers.
Look at this painting, drying in the house, and drying outside by the wood stack.
Now look at how much better it photographed in the sunshine than when it was overcast.
I drove this next painting to the customers rather than shipping it. It was a rare and wonderful chance to visit with them. They ordered it while living out of the country, and I delivered it when they were prepping their old house to sell so they can move to another state.
The painting caused a few tears, since I apparently (by the grace of God) did manage to paint the right person.
These customers requested another painting to take as they move to a home with many walls, in a place that has no Mineral King and no sequoia trees. I brought two more paintings to show them, and they chose this one.
I was pleased to put this in their hands, and happy that I had it long enough to make some improvements. If a painting doesn’t sell, I evaluate it carefully to find ways to make it better. This one, Sunny Sequoias, provided me with several opportunities for improvement.
And although it seemed like a slow season for sales, it wasn’t really. Just different. Not complaining, just explaining. All Most of my needs are met (but I need to find a different host company for my website), and most of my wants (does anyone know if it is possible to convert an automatic transmission to a standard?? OF COURSE IT ISN’T! I still miss Fernando, but recognize and appreciate the superiority of Momscar.)
On the way to Ivanhoe on Friday morning, a clear, sunny, and cold morning, I pulled over for a few photos of oranges.
Is that center orange rotting on the tree??
The mountains were very visible from the library’s address. (Just keep your eyes above the waste.)
Intern and I had a brief discussion about what needed to be done next, I let him choose the task he preferred, and we dove right in. I took no photos until I had worked on the lettering and begun the auditorium.
The oranges still weren’t bright enough on the right side. Intern worked on those.
I began with the auditorium inset and then moved to the label. What a thrill to use all those bright colors! Of course, sunshine made a huge difference.
This is the first time I’ve seen sunshine on the wall. I kept taking photos because it was so interesting and fun (easily amused here.)
It felt as if I was treading water, and the more I did, the more I saw that needed to be done. After standing back and running through a mental list, I sorted the tasks into ones that Intern can do and ones that I need to do. He had left for the day, so I had to decide what I might be able to finish in the remaining hours. If sections are left partially finished, I have less of a sense of forward motion.
I chose to work on the mountains, finally deciding that Sawtooth needed to move south (to the right, both in real life and on the wall) and needed to be smaller.
too round-toppedbettersmaller SawtoothHard to tell with the spotty sunCastle RocksKaweah drainage more realistic
See? Castle Rocks!
See? The Kaweah drainage and repaired Alta Peak!
The daylight is lasting incrementally longer each week, and I was able to work until 4:30. The setting sun made for a different kind of lighting on the final photo. Check out the shadow cast by the fruitless mulberry, that is STILL holding onto some leaves.
Today I will be painting on the Ivanhoe library mural, Lord willing, the Creek, etc. The past two days have been seriously disrupted by many hours on the phone trying to solve the website problem, which also took down my email.
If I was a smoker, it would have been a couple of 2-pack days.
Contemplation
I really contemplated whether or not it is possible to run an art business without a website. Many artists only use Facebook and/or Instagram. Having dabbled in those several years ago, my gut instinct is NO NO NO NO. And NO!
There are no Yellow Pages, direct mail is cost prohibitive and cannot be easily updated, and I’m not inclined to wear an A-frame sign or a weird chicken costume and stand on a street corner. I don’t want to rent public space when I have my most excellent studio and painting workshop here at home, an easy 35-second commute by foot from the house.
So, my inclination is to just relax and recover, and then look into another hosting company. BlueHost used to be based in Arizona, and humans were accessible here in the United States without a robot on the phone to direct you to another country where some poor (but very smart) person with an accent (occasionally accompanied by background children or roosters) would keep reassuring you that they really were sorry for your problem and would do their best to help. It wasn’t until after a series of phone calls that added up to 5 hours (yes, I counted) when I insisted that the case needed to be escalated and stated that I will look for another server/host company that I got an email saying the problem was resolved.
Maybe it is resolved; however, my confidence in BlueHost has taken a hard battering, and there may be a separation in our future.
Techie Details
They upgraded me to an expensive plan, which I declined. They moved me to a more reasonable plan, which included a $199 “migration fee”. Then they neglected to “migrate” my site to the reasonable plan; on one call I was reassured that it had been done, and it worked briefly. Next, the email that is attached to the website ceased functioning, and I was told that it had not been migrated. WELL, MIGRATE ALREADY!
Ugh. Can we talk about something more pleasant? Let’s lift our eyes until the hills. . . from whence does our help come? Not from tech, that’s for sure and for certain!
In case you are wondering, all the previous days’ blog posts croaked with my website. So, here is the best I can do to recreate the most current day for you.
These orange trees have been “skirted”, which means pruned so nothing touches the ground.
I tried to fix the trees on the mural to appear this way. Tricky business. . .
Intern and I mixed a paint color for the inset of the Ivanhoe Elementary Auditorium.
My mom and her brother helped a little bit.
To work on the auditorium, I would have had to sit in the mud. Instead, I sat on the slimy log to work on the inset of Twin Buttes.
The mural looked like this at the end of day #8.
And thus we end the abbreviated version of Day Eight on the Ivanhoe Library Mural.
Now I’m going to either bang my head on the wall or try to learn to back up all my posts so this doesn’t continue to happen OR I’m going to look for an alternative to BlueHost.
My website croaked. I called the server? host? platform? something to ask for help on Tuesday morning, January 6. The man on the phone said he could see what happened, fixed it, and it would be fine in about 10 minutes.
It wasn’t.
Twelve hours later, it was back, but nothing after December 30, 2025, appeared on the blog, and the 1/2 price calendar sale also didn’t show.
I found the draft of the Learned List from December, but it only showed nine things instead of the twelve I eventually came up with. I published it immediately as it was.
Now I have to figure out how to get my email working again.
Maybe I’ll rewrite some of the posts from earlier this week, if I can remember what I said.
Maybe I’ll just take up smoking.
Prolly not. Fret not. I’d rather eat dark chocolate. Or complain about tech. (“If sin enticeth thee, consent thou not.” Proverbs 1:10)
Wouldn’t you just know that it croaked the day after I mailed out a newsletter that announced there are a few slots left in the beginning drawing workshop and that the calendars are half-price now? Prolly missed a bunch of sales and signups. Or not, but I won’t know. Now the calendar won’t even appear in my online store.
Oh well. Here’s the flyer about the beginning drawing workshop.
P.S. If you want a calendar, email me at cabinart [zero] [six} at sbcglobal dot net because that email works (trusting that you will be able to decipher it correctly).
P.P.S. A broken website is a nothing-burger in light of what several dear friends are going through: one recently lost her son to suicide; another has cancer in his bones (Dudes, get your PSA checked even if your doctor says it isn’t needed after 70—it’s only a blood test, not a nasty procedure); yesterday I learned that yet another has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. That’s all Very Very Difficult stuff; a website can be repaired, lost posts can be written, workshops can be given with empty seats, and unsold calendars can be tossed if too much time passes.
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.
Have you heard that people prefer experiences to possessions? Some do, some don’t. If you know someone who does, here is an idea for a Christmas gift.
In case you are wondering, the workshop will take place in Three Rivers, at the Bequette House which is part of the Three Rivers Historical Museum. I am doing this workshop in conjuction with Stem & Stone, a little store here in Three Rivers. Hannah, to whom you RSVP, is one of the owners.
