Category: Thoughts

Things I’m learning in Artworld.

Drawing For Fun

A friend of mine drives for Sequoia Sightseeing Tours.* He had some passengers from Michigan and learned that one is an artist. So, he told her about me. Because people can’t get to Sequoia through Three Rivers right now (wrecked roads from winter floods), they sometimes don’t know how to spend their time. My friend suggested they visit my studio (not open to the public but open by appointment.)

He called to ask permission to give them my contact information. I said yes, then I vacuumed the studio, made sure things were put away, and hung out the flag.

I thought that it might be fun for them to see a piece in progress, so I opened up my flat file drawer labeled “In Progress” (Captain Obvious here) and pulled out a drawing that I started so long ago that I can’t remember when or why. I think it had something to do with drawing for fun.

I began working on it, realizing that I draw for money, not for fun. This is because:(1) if I drew for fun, there wouldn’t be as much time to do other fun things; (2) if I didn’t draw for money, I’d have to get a job; (3) if I drew for fun, those flat files would be so full that they wouldn’t open; (4) if I drew for fun, I wouldn’t have paintings to sell, only drawings; (5) if I drew for fun, I’d end up putting a ton of money into framing, and where would that money come from since I wouldn’t be drawing for money?

This is from a photo taken in 1997 and used to draw the little picture you see next to it. It is the light, shadow and detail that appeal to me. (This drawing was on the back cover of the dust jacket for The Cabins of Mineral King, by me and Jane Coughran, published in 1998, long since sold out.)

I looked up from the drawing and saw this out the window.

Back to the drawing board.

In spite of listening to an interesting podcast, I almost fell asleep at the drawing table. That’s because I got up really early to go walking. I’ll show you tomorrow.

P.S. The people didn’t call. Maybe they fell asleep.

*If you take a tour with Sequoia Sightseeing, ask for Steven. He is terrific!

Maintaining

Workwise, I have a whole lotta nothin’ to share. Any day now, I could get a green light to begin on some murals (when it is too hot to paint, thanks, all you decision makers). So, I am enjoying the free time to continue yardening, meet with an old friend, help out on a church project, and unfortunately, deal with an insurance claim.

These iris love wet feet. They are not natives but are domestic flowers that have escaped someone’s yard and established themselves in this seasonal drainage on one of my walking routes.

Yes, we love red, white, and blue around here.

Only one of my favorite dutch iris bloomed here.

But then look what showed up by the studio!

The lavender is abundant, luxurious, extravagant, and if I had my thesaurus handy, I’d keep going.

Remember when I showed you some pistachio trees mostly submerged along the highway? (Scroll to the bottom of that linked post to see the picture). Part of the grove got planted in a seasonal lake, which filled up this spring and the pump couldn’t keep up. Those submerged trees drowned.

Morning sun is so beautiful on our surrounding hills.

While sitting at The Fourway (that’s what we call a main intersection, because it used to be the only stoplight between our rural areas and the county seat; now there is one more, but we call it “Spruce” because that is its name) WHERE WAS I? At the Fourway, waiting for the light, amused by the message on the back of the pickup ahead.

On my way home, I stopped for gas at a super busy little place along Highway 198. Been there before, no problem. This time, a problem. Sigh. Poor Fernando. The guy in the huge pickup who backed into me was watching out the other side. It rocked the car as I was waiting to pull out onto the busy frontage road. I was afraid to get out and look, but he signaled to me that it was small damage. He was a gentleman, instructed me to take photos of things, including his insurance coverage and registration. Then when I got home, I learned that he had already called the insurance company (we have the same one, which helps.)

With 247,000 miles, should I get this repaired? Should I start looking for another car? (Not because of a little bumper divot, but because of the high number of miles, and the catalytic converter on the edge) How does one find a manual transmission? How does one find a simple car with a manual transmission? (Only Honda or Toyota need apply, because of Mark and Foreign Auto in Visalia.)

Life is a series of decisions and choices. (My very wise dad used to say that, causing me to roll my eyes, and now I fully agree.) Life is also about maintenance.

I will try to maintain here.

Thoughts About Life in Three Rivers

Thoughts About Life in Three Rivers was my first thought for a title. Perhaps a more accurate title would be “Thoughts About Life in Rural California.” Or simply “Life in California”. Or even “Life in These United States”.

Last week at 12:30 AM the power went out. Trail Guy made coffee that morning using our campstove, a logical and competent move.

After a few hours, we decided it would be prudent to hook the refrigerator and freezer to the generator, since these unexplained power outages can go on for hours. This is a little Honda generator, very efficient, lightweight, easy to start; we bought it last summer just for circumstances such as this.

The new generator wouldn’t start.

(That’s a topic for another conversation.)

Around 9 AM the power came back on, but the situation brought home the uncomfortable truth that we rely heavily on electricity, which is becoming less reliable.

Our landline phones used to work without electricity until they became fancy cordless phones; now they are being replaced by cellphones which often rely on wifi due to spotty cell coverage, and the wifi relies on electricity.
Same situation for texting, which relies on cellphones, which rely on electricity to recharge
We communicate via email, which relies on computers, which need electricity to charge. And those computers rely on wifi which needs electricity.
The state badmouths normal cars, telling us to get electric vehicles. Then they tell us to not charge the vehicles.
Homes aren’t supposed to be built with natural gas anymore, and some states are outlawing gas stoves, pushing electric stoves.
Gas-powered chainsaws, leaf blowers, lawnmowers and other tools are being replaced by electric tools; the batteries to run those tools need electricity to be recharged.

We are told to switch to electric everything at the same time less electricity is being generated.

The three power plants in Three Rivers aren’t generating very often (one is kaput); water is now considered a “non-renewable resource” for generating electricity.

A year ago, a big freeze in Texas proved that those windmills and solar are not reliable.

Solar panels don’t get enough sunshine when we have overcast days or wildfires.

The more “gentle” the generation of power, the more resources those items require to be built and to run.

Windmills kill enormous numbers of birds; the ones in the Atlantic ocean are killing whales. Solar panels and batteries use precious minerals, mined in terrible conditions by horribly abused people. Disposing of those batteries puts toxic stuff in the landfills.

All this is supposed to be “saving the planet”? Do these people not understand how electricity is generated or what the downside to all the alternatives are?

Where is the logic in this push to use electricity, while at the same time we are generating less?

Something is happening to common sense, and it is not an improvement.

Cowboy logic is endangered.

P.S. My opinion is not about politics: it is based on logic and reality. The poor decisions of the lawmakers are not based on logic and reality but based on what benefits the lawmakers, what looks or sounds good to the lobbyists, the media, and giant blocks of low-information voters.

Happy Birthday, Ann! (stay in Florida)

california Three Rivers

Fifteen “Why” Questions

Today’s post is question after question, interspersed with photos of flowers to take the edge off of all the unsolved mysteries of life.

Why do website hackers use evil robots to mess with my little bitty nothing-burger site??
Why do young people drive fast when (in theory) they have lots of time left?
Why do old people drive slow, when for them the clock is running down quickly?
Why is Microsoft Word so hard to use, with very unhelpful “help”, and the people in the forums to help don’t read the questions but just slam out a non-answer?
Maybe the real question is this: why is Microsoft Word so popular when it is so difficult*?
Why is the food truck for Quesedilla Gorilla in Three Rivers gone?
Why is “gorilla” such a popular word in marketing: Quesedilla Gorilla, gorilla tape, gorilla glue…?
Why is it that the more ways there are to communicate, the harder it is to get answers to questions?
Why do charities waste so much money on printing and mailing solicitations for money to the people who already support them?
Why do people spend so much money on bottled water when we have the cleanest tap water in the world?
Why were we pushed to use plastic bags in grocery stores when paper comes from a renewable resource?
Why do companies discontinue products without having a replacement ready to go or to recommend?
Why am I not doing the Redbud Festival this year?
Why didn’t CACHE get the grant?? No one could possibly have worked harder, done more research, been more careful about how it was worded than our most excellent board president.
Why do I have to restart my computer in order for Airdrop to work? Every day, day after day, restart, restart, restart.

Today I have questions. Tomorrow, I hope to have a few answers, but most likely not for any of these questions.

*I want endnotes to start renumbering with each chapter, not run consecutively throughout the entire book I am working on. . . some Know-it-all on the Microsoft Forum answered my query with this: “The thing is that for many people Roman numerals become a challenge once they get above iii. This does include highly-educated academics.” Excuse me??

Procrastinating in Order to Think

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Sometimes life piles up a stack of difficult tasks, unpleasant chores, awkward situations, design problems that don’t seem to have an answer, missing information, incorrect instructions, circumstances that require negotiating skills, tricky decisions, impossible priorities. (Does this make you want to stab yourself with your pencils or knitting needles? Slam some chocolate? Curl up under your dining table with your thumb in your mouth?)

Recently I had a few of those types of challenging paths to navigate. Nothing serious, just no clear path ahead in several areas, all business-related.
So, I spent an entire day digging in the yard after a trip to a plant nursery so extensive that it required a more substantial vehicle than Fernando. I had been saving some gift certificates, and those were spent, along with some green paper with pictures of dead men’s faces, and I even plasticized some of the plants to put in the studio garden. (That means I used a debit card because it was a business expense.)

My yard is immense. It has about 10 separate sections, none of which look very polished, but all of which are a pleasure to putter around in (until the mozzies show up.)

I didn’t listen to music or podcasts. I just pulled weeds, pruned plants, dug holes, and planted new things, all while thinking only about gardening, not about problems needing a solution. Some of the “experts” on thinking say that relaxing your mind, ending the obsession, “changing channels” gives your brain a chance to come up with answers.

After living here for 24 years, I am finally learning which plants work and where they might be happiest. The difficulty of buying plants cannot be overstated. You can comb through the Sunset Western Garden Book and make a list. None will be at the nursery. You can make a list of plants that have succeeded in the past, and maybe you will find some, and maybe you won’t. You can try to remember the names of the ones that are currently looking good, fail to remember, take a photo using an app called “Picture This”, find a name that doesn’t match, show the photo to a nursery employee, and get steered toward something else. If the thought occurs to you, “I’ve never killed one of those before”, then maybe you will choose that. Of course, you could also think, “The deer in my yard might like that one”, and then you have another decision to make.

At the end of the day, I had no answers, one mosquito bite, 2 dirty hands, and many new plants to remember to water and guard from deer, gopher, bird, and bug attacks.

All in all, it was a very good day. Maybe in time I will figure out a few new paths through my tricky situations.

thinking while gardening

Planning, Hoping, Dreaming, Wishin’ and Wantin’

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“Planning, Hoping, Dreaming” reminds me of something Beth Moore has said, “Are you wantin’ and wishin’ instead of believin’ and receivin’?”

Indeed.

Someone Important told me last August that he was looking for a muralist. He’d been talking to an artist who didn’t return calls and was frustrated by the lack of response. He told me I could have the job.

Coolio.

I went to the location, measured, photographed, and discussed the project with the person who worked at the location. Purposely vague here, but more will be revealed.

Then I got to thinking, sketching, writing up notes, designing. Oh yes, this could be very excellent!

When I had some good ideas, three, each one a different size and price because I had no idea of the budget, I called Mr. Important Someone. Nothing. Left another message. Silence, or as the current cliché goes, “crickets”.

I saw Mr. Important Someone in October, and I whapped him on the arm with the stack of papers in my hand. “Mr. Someone, you have not returned my calls, and I have good ideas to share with you.”

He had reasons (very busy, because he is Important), and was remorseful, charming, and engaging, which has probably contributed to his being Someone Important.

The cricket fest continued, until April 6, when I got an arts newsletter with a Call to Artists to bid on the project that Mr. Someone had all but promised me.

Sigh.

I am really wishin’ and wantin’, while planning, hoping and dreaming, all ready to believe and receive.

This sort of enterprise is part of the the business of art, lots of conversation until money exchanges hands. The deadline to submit a proposal is April 26; a decision will be reached sometime in May.

Stay tuned. Photos will follow IF I am chosen for the project. (Maybe even if I am not, and then you all can tell me where I went wrong.)

Sometimes I am a Non-Profit Company

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Some days it is a real struggle to find time to paint because of all the non-art-making tasks associated with being a professional artist, a one-woman show, a solo act, a Jana of all trades, and small potatoes.

This is what filled my day a few weeks ago, most work related, and none of it actually for profit.

Someone sent me an email wondering if an artist’s proof from a reproduction run of Farewell Gap prints was worth anything. Yeppers, it is worth whatever anyone is willing to pay for it. This required a bit of rooting around to see how many prints I made, some guesswork about when I did it, and a lot of thought in a couple of emails. (And I had to blog about it, because it was both mildly interesting and informative.)
I got a handwritten letter in the real mail about a place called the Green Hotel in a small town in Kern County. This is because neither my email nor my phone would give me my messages from the correspondent. The letter turned into a series of phone calls and emails, with me instructing the folks what would be necessary to reproduce notecards when the original has vanished. (This might warrant its own blog post.)
The gallery/museum where I teach drawing lessons (CACHE) has applied for a grant. Because it will be a possible source of money for murals inside the museum, and because I am a Typo Psycho, I helped with editing and proofreading. Our highly esteemed president of CACHE put zillions of hours into this, with an understanding of how to write appealing content for grants, and I concluded that if CACHE doesn’t receive the grant, the judges are stupid, biased, or there is just a great deal of tomfoolery involved. (What, me biased??)
My colored pencil artist friend Carrie Lewis puts out a weekly newsletter, a free publication with helpful information for colored pencil artists. Because no one can proof her own writing and because she is overloaded with many other tasks, I proofread this weekly for her.
The upcoming big murals at the largest Catholic church in North America have been on hold. Finally, the project manager said I might be able to begin soon. This meant rewriting the contract, checking prices that have risen since we began the process in October, updating terms based on new information.
Finally, on a day that much of this was happening, we had an electrical problem. When the electricity went out, I had to go to the neighbor’s house to wait for the electrician to call me on the cell phone. We don’t have cell service at home; use of the cell requires using wifi, which requires electricity. So, with all this work to do, I took my knitting over to my friend’s house and sat in the sunshine.That was a busy day, lots of work, all of it not-for-profit. But sometimes an artist has got to do what she’s got to do.

art business

Following up on Earlier Subjects

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Does “following up” mean finishing? Concluding? Completing? Then why don’t we say that instead?

Sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in words.

Remember in the Learned in March post that I showed you chocolate navels? This is how they look on the inside.
Remember seeing this table in progress?This is how it turned out.
Did I mention anything about going around the neighborhood with clippers and buckets to pick wildflowers? This is how they were used.
Still nothing to report on the two murals in the courtyards at St. Charles, the largest Catholic church in North America, in Visalia, where I was asked to paint some murals back in October. I redid the contract to reflect the increase in mural paint prices and the customer’s request that I train someone to paint a third mural, someone who doesn’t speak English or have experience. The saga continues. . .

Fifteen Years of Blah-blah-blah Blogging

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Today is not about art.

Tomorrow marks FIFTEEN YEARS of blogging, five days a week. Day after day, blah blah blah, this is what I do, what I did, what I’m planning to do, yadda yadda yadda, I went here, saw this, and did that, want to buy some art/a book/some cards? I learned something, I have questions, I have thoughts.

“Blog”. Weird word. This is an online journal, a log on the web, a web log, web-log, weblog, blog.

And I can’t seem to stop.

Today is not about art. It is just showing you some photos from my life, which seems normal to me, but is probably peculiar to you.

I took my car, Fernando, for an oil change. While Mark from Foreign Auto (559-734-8285, Honda, Toyota, Lexus, and Acura only) was taking care of Fernando, I walked to downtown Visalia. Mill Creek is flowing. This is what keeps those valley oaks alive. Quercus lobata is the name of these oaks, the largest in the country. (There is a black and white cat in the first picture.)

The next day, Trail Guy and I climbed up on the bank behind the house to cut a dead live oak. Doesn’t that sound weird? “Dead live oak”.

It felt wrong to smash the wildflowers.

My job was to help get the wood down to the neighbor’s driveway so we could load it into the back of the pick’em-up truck. Mostly I dragged, endoed, or rolled the heavy limbs so Trail Guy could use his superior strength to pitch them off the hill.

And then my work was done, so I went ogling things in bloom in the yard. Some years I miss this calla lily, but everything is slower this year so I caught this guy in its prime. It is called Dragon Arum. Finally learned, using a plant identification app called PictureThis. It is free but tries to trick you into subscribing by hiding the word “Cancel” in the upper righthand corner, almost invisible.

And that’s all I have for today, another glorious cool green flowery spring day in Three Rivers when I am supposed to be working but keep finding interesting things to do instead.

Thank you for listening, reading, looking, hanging around, commenting, caring, being there all these years!

P.S. Happy Birthday, Hiking Buddy! I mailed you a card yesterday, but it might have to go to Santa Clarita first. Could have walked it to you faster, but you know about my feet these days. . . May you be warmed and filled today.