Silver City Store, as it looked in 1985, painted in 2018 as a commissioned oil painting. (The original pencil drawing is in a frame and as such, won’t scan properly).
Over the weekend, I took all my Mineral King themed paintings to the Silver City Store, which is where I worked in 1985 when I met Trail Guy and changed the entire direction of my life (from meandering and going nowhere to based around Mineral King.)
Sawtooth on a saw blade was commissioned by the resort and belongs to them —not for sale.
The first time I sold my art in a store was the summer of 1986, when I had prints made of my drawing of the Silver City Store. Now it is called Silver City Resort and it is much fancier.
Usually I take 6-10 paintings and some notecards to the store at the beginning of the season, and then restock throughout the summer. This year I decided to take everything all at once.
Manager Molly was very gracious in helping me fit things in. We pulled nails, pounded new ones, and scooted lots of things closer together. They have more merchandise than ever before—if you like to shop, you will definitely enjoy the store this year.
When it was all in place, I pulled out my little Canon Elph camera, and the battery was dead. I didn’t have the inferior phone camera with me, because there is no reason to take it up the hill.
So on the way home, we stopped by and I did some quick photos (had a replacement battery back at the cabin).
A gap here is good news.
Two paintings sold over the weekend!
Entering White Chief. . . I admit, this is one of my favorites and I was surprised it hung around for two years.
Mineral King Trail
It’s not a gallery with white walls, shiny floors, and lots of space, but my art does well in carefully selected stores. Silver City is the first and best place I’ve ever done business.
P.S. Silver City is 21 miles up the Mineral King Road and is 4 miles below the Mineral King valley.
Having finished the oil painting commission, priced paintings and cards to sell at Silver City, all this while believing that I have finished enough paintings for the entire summer (possibly delusional about that), it was time to consider how to next spend my work time.
I pulled weeds at church (not work), oiled the siding on the front of the studio (sort of work), learned to use the new scanner at a minimal level (work requiring enormous patience), worked on art for the 2027 calendar (the best kind of work), and went to a county supervisor candidate meet-up where I had a conversation that led to a pencil commission (marketing work).
The requested subject, Reimer’s, to be redrawn in pencil, is here in Three Rivers. Iit will take a few photo sessions to find the right light without the parking lot full of scene-blocking cars. The customer has granted permission to show progress on the blog.
Too many generations of reproduction have severely compromised the quality of this drawing.
The original drawing is in a frame somewhere in someone’s home (I hope it isn’t stashed in a storage unit), the printshop that originally printed this on cards is out of business, and the store is under new ownership with some changes. Hence, it is time for a new drawing.
Preparing to Work
In addition, someone who hired me to edit a very long paper/potential book/article/essay something sent me photos of his garden at its peak and requested a collage type oil painting. I’ve only done collages with pencil, but I am willing to try this design approach in oil paint.
A collage in pencil, designed to combine scenes that seem disparate to the viewer unless you are the customer to whom all these places make sense.
After studying the 10 or so photos that he sent, it became apparent that my laptop screen isn’t up for the task—it’s just too small. So, I put them all on a document, turned it black and white (because my printer isn’t really capable of printing in color without cleaning the heads, running test patterns, and then replacing ink that got used up doing those tasks) and printed it out.
Next, I made a list of everything that is important to the customer. (He is very good at communicating—hence, the successful editing project.)
As I tiptoed ahead on this challenging project, I realized that this is my chance to not be stupidly unbusinesslike. Often I get so caught up in a challenge that I don’t charge for all the extra work, and I rarely remember to get a deposit. This time I let the customer know that the job is in the Think Tank and that I was attaching an invoice for $100 nonrefundable deposit for the design work. It will be applied to the painting, size to be determined.
After work I came home and cleaned up the tail and guts of a squirrel that Tucker caught, nibbled on, and left for Jackson and Pippin to finish. It was seriously disgusting, so instead of showing you that, let’s look at a pencil drawing of a completely intact squirrel.
On an overcast and chilly morning with our final fire of the season in the wood stove, I sat with my laptop and tackled some unpleasant tasks.
A new scanner: I went looking online to see if the one that served me well for 15 years was still available. It is not. A similar one appeared to be available, but it isn’t sold in the U S of A. So, begrudgingly, I went to the Big A and found (settled for?) a flatbed scanner made by a company called Plustek. I’m guessing that Mustek (my last scanner company) morphed into Plustek. Every piece of information available seems to indicate that it is easy to set up and will work with my outdated MacBook Pro.
2. My printer is one of those 4-way deals: print, scan, copy, and fax. (Fax?? Who does that any more besides medical offices, which I do my best to avoid?) It works as a scanner in a pinch, except that it only handles 8-1/2 x 11” documents and the lid isn’t removable for thick canvases. It is a good printer, but it uses SO MUCH INK. I always check the box for black & white copies, and somehow, the other ink cartridges run low. It is hard to buy only black, and the blue, red, and yellow cartridges appear to be multiplying in the dark while I wait yet again for another overpriced order of black ink. Rip-off.
3. An online printing company is where I get small amounts of notecards printed. In the last handful of years, suddenly they charge sales tax after I have submitted all my resale permit info. I learned that I have to resubmit the same forms, Every Year, Year After Year After Year. So tiresome. OF COURSE they don’t ever receive the email, which necessitates a “chat” or a phone call, where someone keeps reassuring me that they will look into it. The people are nice, and they are helpful, but WHY IS THIS NECESSARY, OVER AND OVER??
4. Someone asked me what other murals I have painted, and I realized that I don’t have them on my website, other than the page “What my customers are saying” or some such thing. So I spent a couple of long sessions make a new mural page, finding, organizing, and posting the photos. No dates or sizes are included. They don’t all show in full, due to my use of “galleries”, which means a cluster of photos with predetermined shapes and sizes. It was kind of cool to realize that I have that many under my belt.
Instead of all this administrative stuff, I just want to paint. Actually I just want to draw. Sure would be nice to have a secretary, administrative assistant, intern, apprentice, servant, butler, lady’s waiting maid, something.
However, then I’d have to work more to pay that person, and I wouldn’t have enough money to pay for all those ink cartridges or a new scanner.
Maybe you are thinking that it is difficult to paint according to people’s instructions (called “commissions” or “commissioned art”). That might be true for some artists, but I am not one of them. I’ve said for decades that I’d rather draw an ugly house than be a waitress.
Maybe you are thinking that it is the lack of a steady paycheck. That is probably true for artists without supportive spouses with a steady income and insurance, but that is not me.
Maybe you are thinking that it is having to approach galleries. There aren’t any for-profit galleries in Tulare County, and since Tulare County is my focus, I don’t have to approach galleries. A benefit of having stayed here my entire career, both in subject matter and in the flesh, is that galleries (all non-profit) approach me. Not boasting, just stating the facts. There is much to be said for continuity and presence and reliability and community.
What about selling? Not a problem for me, because I don’t try to “sell” to people. I help people who want my art figure out which piece or pieces will please them most. No tricky words, no persuasive speech, just helping people.
None of those things are anyone’s favorite part about being an artist. So what is the hardest part?
The answer
Pricing. All artists HATE to set prices.
Other artists tell me my prices are way too low. However, my customers gasp and have to think about whether or not to spend money on my art. (That deflates any tendencies of getting fat-headed about being known in my area.)
There is a push-and-pull between keeping prices affordable while allowing those who do the expensive and boring work of maintaining a gallery or gift shop to have a fair cut of the profits. And keeping prices affordable is a bit of smoke-and-mirrors, the old 99 or 95 trick. If keeping prices consistent, and a size comes out to the price of $225, the tendency is to call it $199 or $195. If I do that, I’ve chopped $25 off my profit, and also chopped the seller’s cut.
What if I just painted small so all the prices are under $200 in order to keep the visitors and gift shops flowing along? This is often what I do.
But if I only paint small, then my inventory will not be ready for someone who asks for a larger piece, or when a gallery approaches for a show.
Ethics
On top of all that indecisiveness, there is an important piece to pricing: no matter where someone finds my work, it must be priced the same. Website, shows, galleries, my studio, stores—no “it’s cheaper at. . .” or “I know the artist and can get her to cut me a deal.” Nope. We* keep it consistent** and ethical, and if you see my piece at a show and then think that after the show you can get it cheaper from me, go have yourself another think. Likewise, if you see a piece at a show and wait to buy it directly from me, I will write the gallery a check for their cut anyway.
Conclusion
Push-me-pull-you, that llama from Dr. Doolittle with two heads, each one pointing a different direction—that’s a good symbol of the mess in my head when setting prices.
I need some chocolate.
I painted this 5×7” oil in 2006, not too long after beginning to work in oil.
*The royal we, since it is just big Queen Me-Me around here in this little business.
**Except sometimes I mess up, especially when doing stressful pricing math.
This might take more time to read than you want to spend. You also might not find it interesting. You can skip it today—I’ll still be your friend.
In thinking about all the distractions and how long it has been since I last painted, I realized several things, the most glaring that. . .
. . . I missed several important selling opportunities here in Three Rivers this spring.
What a Slacker
(1) The Studio Tour weekend: Did it include Three Rivers this year? This event alternates areas each year. It used to be an exclusive Three Rivers event, but I stopped after it grew to involve the entire county. It eats up an entire weekend and involves many strangers coming to my home. No thanks.
(2) First Saturday —haven’t participated in that for many years because I don’t like waiting in my studio all day, jumping up every time I hear a car go past to see if they are pulling into my driveway, helping tottery people up my steps, and then being squished with strangers in my little shed of a studio. No thanks.
(3) A busy Easter weekend in the local shops. Oops, didn’t have anything new to take.
(4) I’m skipping the Redbud Festival too. Lots of work to set up, poor attendance in the last handful of years I’ve been there, standing around on numb feet (because when a vendor sits, it appears as if he is disinterested) and not wanting to work on Sunday all add up to No Thanks to festivals, bazaars, boutiques and all such events.
These guys would HATE having strangers invade their space—my painting workshop doubles as their home.
Good grief, it’s a wonder that I can stay in business as a local artist.
After 33 years of full time artisting, arting, scratching out a living with paintbrushes and pencils, I seem to have developed enough ways of earning a living that I can be a little pickier.
But then again, when I had a solo show in Tulare last August, I thought I had it all figured out and almost didn’t bring any pencil drawings. Boy was I wrong—pencil drawings were all that sold!
Such is the business of art. The best I can do is return phone calls and emails, finish work on time, keep improving old skills and learning new ones.
What I do
Editing, proofreading, book design, drawing in pencil, oil painting, painting murals, teaching regular group and private drawing lessons, giving talks about drawing, publishing books (coloring, cabins, and wildflowers for me; a variety of topics for other people), printing and selling notecards and calendars, designing and painting signs, logo design, teaching drawing and oil painting workshops, an occasional solo show, accepting commissions, selling through local shops, selling from my website and to people who call or ask to visit my studio—it all provides great variety, and continues to hold my interest.
This is a fantastic place to teach drawing lessons and workshops.
What I don’t do
Notice that the above list doesn’t include the aforementioned boutiques/bazaars/festivals, or lending my work to places of business so that they don’t have to buy it but can pretend that it is actually going to sell while people are in their offices for other purposes. It doesn’t include giving art to fund raisers or annual beg-a-thons (hint: I will give many charities who ask a free Wilsonia book, or even a certificate for a free private drawing lesson). There’s nothing on the list about participating in shows with entry fees, joining in themed group shows, or schlepping my art to decorate someone’s annual banquet to give people something to do while they are waiting for dinner to begin. I have done all of these things in the past and am thankful to be able to decline such “opportunities for exposure”. The beginners and youngsters can do those things, but I learned that a person can die of exposure. (Yes, I do make exceptions from time to time.)
Why would I ever want to leave here if I didn’t have to?
What About The Internet?
I also don’t sell via Facebook, Instagram, or Etsy. These platforms require copious amounts of time online, building up a following, participating in discussions and commenting and “liking”, being visible, staying connected. I try to keep my connections real rather than virtual, and as much as I try to limit screen time, I’m still on the computer way more than I want to be: photos, communications, photo editing, blogging, more photos, book editing, book design, and even more photos for many reasons and uses, plus reading and commenting regularly on a handful of blogs, which have brought a handful of sales and new friendships.
This was a fun place to give a talk about earning a living with art and how I got to where I am, which really, isn’t anything to brag about. It came with lunch, which we all needed after a very stressful hour before the meeting began of trying to make the powerpoint projector work. (Next time I’ll bring my trusty laptop.)
P.S. Notice also that the list doesn’t include showing in galleries: this means for-profit galleries. There are none in Tulare County, only non-profits, run by volunteers, where I have had my solo shows.
Conclusion
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.
P.S. I happily accept commissions, which means I make custom art for people. I hope you know that!
Since 1994 I have been helping people learn to draw. Some people already have an inkling about drawing but want to increase their skills. Some have always wished they could draw but didn’t know how to start. Some have been told they are terrible at art (such mean fake “teachers” out there in the public schools, back in the olden days) and want to prove otherwise.
A week or two ago I had the privilege of teaching a two hour beginning drawing workshop for 9 people from Exeter’s continuation high school. All of the participants were there by choice, not because it was an “easy” class. Two hours was nowhere near enough time, and I do not understand how a school teacher can manage when each one in the same group progresses at a different pace. We had a good time, and it was very intense compared to regular drawing lessons where I work with about 4 people at a time for an hour, each working on his own piece at his own pace.
Have a look at what my regular students are currently producing.
Helping people draw is a great source of joy and satisfaction in this artist’s life. And every one of these folks ‘bout busts my head open with pride in their accomplishments!
My favorite form of art is pencil drawing. My favorite subjects to draw are architectural. It is fun to tackle subjects that really require thought, careful design, and a bit of artistic license. It is highly satisfying to turn a vague idea from customers into something better than they envisioned.
A customer presented me with one of those challenges: draw her home and the adjoining “granny flat”. She sent me two photos, one of each.
My first thought was, “Nope, these two together will make a really strange shape for framing.” I tried it anyway, and realized that I’d need to go see the two homes in person to figure out how they are attached.
My inner lazy chick thought that maybe I could convince the customer to skip the granny flat and only choose the main house.
Then I decided to go for the big challenge: a collage type drawing. It’s been while since I did one of these (an entire year—remember this job? And this one?) The two houses don’t fill a standard framing proportion, so I went to my default space filler: oranges.
The customer chose the collage, approved the oranges, and I started the very next day.
This is 14×17”, and even at that size, the upper house (granny flat) has teensy little details. I also complicated the job by choosing hot press watercolor paper, something I used to use exclusively. It is a little bit fuzzy, so details are even more challenging to achieve.
“How long does it take to do a drawing?”
“I dunno. How long is a string?”
I spent about an hour designing, and then it took about 15 minutes for the customer to decide. This one day’s progress was about 6-7 hours of drawing.
I know, I know, I don’t charge enough.
I just raised my prices again, so hush up about that!
The primary colors are red, blue, and yellow. All colors can be mixed from these (except flourescent colors but those colors aren’t relevant to my art). Colors mixed with yellow fade the fastest. This means that green becomes blue, gray becomes lavender, orange becomes pink, and brown turns purple.
I first painted this mural at home in 2008 because I had to practice painting large outdoor pictures with acrylic mural paints. If it was awful, I could just paint it out.
It has needed refreshing several times. Here is the most recent version.
The sky got patchy because I smeared on some of the wrong sky color by accident*; the distant trees turned periwinkle blue; all the greens are grayish blueish green.
Let’s go. Sky first, of course. I though I’d only fix the sky and the rest would be fine. I thought wrong.
Jackson was on standby in case I climbed off the ladder to feed him. I didn’t.
Tucker and Pippin were around but not interested.
The colors are truer now. But the sky probably could use a few clouds, those wispy types that were in the mural earlier. Some other time. . . Instead, I repainted the white border, and then the walk-in door frame, and then the windows of the studio. Way leads on to way. . .
Then I pulled weeds. No photos. But you can look at my studio through the flowers.
Maybe March is my favorite month.
Nope. That terrible time change. I thought we voted to stop the madness.
Dutch iris are my favorite domestic flowers. I’ve painted them multiple times through the years.
Recently, I pulled one out of Kaweah Arts because I thought of a way to make it better. After sprucing it up, I thought you might appreciate seeing all the changes on this painting through the years.
First time
Better
Repaired and scanned:
Repaired, scanned, and fixed on the laptop to look like the actual painting:
Phooey, I think I need to replace the scanner.
Meanwhile, the painting is now looking most totally excellent (because they always looks better in person than on screens) and can be yours for $75 (plus tax if you are in California and shipping.)
This collage in pencil is of several Visalia landmarks.
The other day I had to go to Visalia (AKA Big Town) for the morning. In the afternoon, there were pressing responsibilities on the computer (scan some things, email them to folks who had requested such things, try a few more adaptations to the cover of the book I am working on (as editor and designer, not as author), and finally, I went out to paint.
Why? It was kind of cold out there, maybe 50°. That should be no excuse. I went out to paint, because incomplete paintings don’t sell. I had been studying my photos of Three Rivers the previous evening, thinking about sales, thinking about what I haven’t painted in awhile, and thinking about the local businesses who sell my paintings. There are a few new things I want to try.
No, it wasn’t as cold as this but I thought you might enjoy this pencil drawing of the Pear Lake Ski Hut.
Try? Yeah, as in “can I do a good job?” and “will this sell?”
Most of my current customers are visitors, travelers passing through Three Rivers. They want something indicative of their visit, preferably on the lower end of the price spectrum, small enough to fit into luggage and small enough to not skew their home decor.
Enough bloviating.
First I looked at the unfinished pieces.
While briefly considering what was necessary for completion, I felt a cold breeze on the back of my neck and realized I didn’t want to sit there while concentrating on details.
Instead, I chose to do something quick. Some things quick. Some quick things.
Never mind.
Choosing the photos, choosing the sizes, digging the canvases out of the supply shelves, assigning inventory numbers, attaching hanging hardware, and slapping on a first thin layer.
OUTTA HERE! Back to the house by the woodstove. THANK YOU, TRAIL GUY for keeping the home fires burning.
