Today I thought I would be painting on the library mural, but my wrist hurts so I will wait until next week to return to the wall. Didn’t want you to think I was taking a nap or just loafing around. Instead of painting either on a wall or on a canvas, I am editing a book. Light typing and careful reading doesn’t hurt.
Meanwhile, maybe you want to order a calendar, either by emailing me directly (cabinart at cabinart dot net), using Paypal on my website, or chasing me down in a parking lot somewhere, if you recognize Mom’s Car.
This happened yesterday. First, I went to the post office to mail some packages of this painting and some calendars.
From the PO I jaywalked across the highway to the bank to deposit moola from the day before in Tulare and a check paying for this painting, which sold at the Mural Gallery.
When I got home, there were sirens, more sirens, lights, more sirens, and every type of emergency vehicle imaginable going past. A friend, a neighbor, and the mail lady drove into our driveway all at the same time, everyone speculating and sharing what they knew. Trail Guy, L (the friend), and I decided to walk down to see what we could see. When we got there, about 1/2 of the emergency vehicles had left, so we were feeling hopeful that it wasn’t as awful as first imagined.
The driver doesn’t know what happened—just driving, then sideways. The windshield was completely smashed on the driver’s side, because that is the way the driver was extracted. The driver wasn’t hurt, just puzzled and embarrassed and dismayed and every other emotion when your life is suddenly disrupted to this degree with multiple uniforms surrounding you. (Yes, keeping things anonymous here.)
I walked back home, puzzled, a bit worried about what happened to the driver, and just slayed by the clarity of the day.
Some paperwork was demanding attention in the studio, because if one doesn’t stay current, one will miss expenditures and deposits and emails and real mail, no matter how much one thinks she will remember later. And no matter how careful she thinks she has been, the end-of-the-year bookkeeping is always a little ragged. It didn’t take too long, and I felt rather smug about handling it so efficiently (which somewhat balances out the irritation of those ragged parts in the year-end machinations.)
After puttering around with mural paints in preparation for the next painting day, which was an excuse to be outside in the sunshine, I finally moved into the painting workshop to see if I could progress on the Yellow Tunnel.
First, more blue patches in the cottonwoods.
The humanoid is very intimidating, frankly, just too hard… inadequate photos, and very small. I won’t be quitting, but today wasn’t the day for this degree of precision. (Yikes on the skin color, complete uncertainty on almost everything else.)
Edges! I’ll paint the edges! Trouble is, the top of the canvas is quite a bit above my vision. I moved the easel to the floor and in the process I banged my bad wrist, which I thought was well enough to stop wearing the brace. (De Quervain’s Tennosynovitis, now in the 14th month of trying to rob me of joy.) Holy guacamole, how will I be able to work on the mural Friday?
I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Intern will be with me, so we’ll figure something out. I was able to do this upper edge of the canvas, but then I quit for the day because ow. OW. OW. Dang it dang it dang it.
I was able to do a bit of texting, keeping current with the customer on my progress. There is a great big distance between us geographically, which can make a customer feel a bit nervous. This customer and I are actually good friends, so he isn’t nervous, and I just like to stay in contact.
He mentioned an interest in another painting to go with this one (which is to go with another one he owns), so I mentioned these two, which are still available. Pushy artist, eh? Nope, helpful. I hope. (The colors are SO MUCH BETTER IN PERSON.)
And since I am being a helpful artist, here is the calendar for your consideration. Prolly won’t make it by Christmas, but it will make it by January 1 if you order soon, depending on your location. $25 includes mailing and tax.
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..
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.
