I thought about calling this post “Red Dog” but assumed that might be ever so slightly misleading.
This painting is finished, all 30×40″ of its glorious self.
Giant sequoias, Redwoods, Big Trees – whatever it is called, this painting is huge.
I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.
I still have a very large commissioned oil painting of redwoods to complete. Redwoods are sequoia gigantea, not to be confused with California redwoods. We grew up calling them “the big trees”, and I had no clue what a privilege it was to live so close. (I might have been a bit of a twit.) I choose to call them Redwoods now because I went to Redwood High School, and although I will skip the upcoming reunion, I have retained enough loyalty to hang onto the name. But, I digress.
The customer liked a similar painting that I made for someone else, which was based on the pencil drawing called “Redwood & Dogwood”.
You can see the drawing, plus a photo of a sequoia on my laptop. The reason the palette is on the floor is because I was kneeling there to work on the lower portion of the tree. You can see the primary colors running across the top of the palette and the redwood colors running down the side.
But wait! There’s more!
Sheesh. This California artist has a thing about redwood trees. On the left is half of the pair of doors to the painting studio. I had to open them because it is sort of dark in there. Then, the swamp cooler had to be on high, so the doors were blowing around.
It’s rough being a California artist in the heat of summer.
Wah.
This is how it looked at the end of the noisy, dark, overheated day of painting. It should dry enough overnight to begin adding the dogwood flowers on top of the redwood tree. I mean layered in front of the tree, not up at the top of the painting. You knew that, right?
A few years ago I painted a gingko leaf. A friend saw it and asked if I could paint the same for her, but make it green instead of yellow. I did.
The background didn’t please her, because the darkness that I thought showed off the leaf looked depressing to her. This was her opinion, which I asked for. Since the painting was to please her, I appreciated her honesty.
The painting hung in my workshop for several months before I repainted the background. Nope, not that either. But, I did add more detail to the leaf, which suited us both better.
Throughout these conversations, I insisted on honesty from her. It is the only way I can learn, the best way to communicate, and an indication of the level of trust between us.
I finally asked her for a suggestion of what she would prefer. She said, “Sunflower yellow, I think!”
Said Friend knows her mind – this one was a hit! It certainly isn’t depressing, and since she is happy, I am happy too.
Orange you glad you live in California? Or perhaps you aren’t so glad – the state is way over its head financially, we have both sales tax and state income tax, our gas is almost the most expensive in the country, and it is stinkin’ hot.
But we can grow oranges, and we can paint them. That’s what California artists do who get calls from realtors who sell lots of citrus orchards. Blessings on you, Oh Realtors of Good Taste.
In case you were wondering, my favorite color isn’t orange. Besides, it looks terrible on me. Not my color. Maybe that is why it is fun to paint.
A good customer requested 14 paintings of citrus. He specified a certain number of Tangerines (aka Clementines or Mandarins), Lemons and Navel oranges.
Among the excitement of replacing paintings burned up in a cabin fire and replenishing the stock at the Silver City Store, I’ve been squeezing out these paintings.
Come on! You KNOW that was cute!
Remember the agony, the angst, the moaning and groaning about Put My Parents In The Painting?
I decided it was the best I could make it, so I called The Customer, who drives a big rig all over the country. After lots of phone tag, he left me a message asking me to photograph it with my phone and text it to him. Obviously, he does not know me very well.
No worries – whenever I don’t know how to do something (like kill a Snake or face a dead kitty or operate Trail Guy’s DVD player), I just call S. She knows pertinear everything! She very graciously agreed to handle this task with her great phone and great skill.
The Customer liked the painting! (I think he probably couldn’t see it very well on his magical little phone.) A few more texts came through S, and I decided to preserve the friendship and release her from the misery of being my dispatcher.
I called The Customer and he ANSWERED his phone!! We discussed the painting, and he requested less sky, a higher treeline, and larger rocks in front of the house. He also mentioned a bird house. I scrutinized the photo under my giant lighted magnifying glass and believe the bird house is a figment of someone’s long-distance memory.
And here is the painting. As S said, “You can’t see the Dad’s face!” That’s correct. I cannot. That is why you cannot. If I can’t see it, I can’t paint it.
When The Customer returns to the area to retrieve the painting, this California Artist might be hiding in the back of S’s car.
I changed my mind – I don’t like a challenge after all. Nope. Don’t want to do this hard stuff. I’m an idiot for saying I’d try. I want my commissions to be easy, just flow from the brushes, paint themselves while I sing to the radio. This Put-My-Parents-In-The-Painting may cause me to stab myself with my paintbrush handles.
The truth is that I’ve spent hours upon hours upon hours tinkering with The Parents. This is the best I can do. What if Mr. Put-My-Parents-etc doesn’t like it?
No biggie – I can just paint it out. Erase hours upon hours upon hours of work. File it away in my mind under “You Knew Better” or “Learning the Hard Way Again” or “Stupidity Rerun”.
Then, Mr. Put-My-Parents can have a nice painting of the house.
That’d work, right?
I need to go lie down now. Maybe with chocolate and knitting. (That will keep my thumb out of my mouth.)
See how small and blurry this photo is? WHAT was I thinking when I said I’d try it?? But now that i see the photo with the enlarged view of The Parents, I think I’ll do more work on Pa’s shirt. And the pants only look too bright on the monitor. They really aren’t. I think. Maybe. Dang.
So glad you asked that question! Here is a peek into the current status of Put My Parents In The Painting. (I’m twitching slightly from the effort and the stress, but it’s nothing a few rows of knitting can’t cure.)
Mother’s face barely shows on the photo. I tried to see some particulars under a magnifying glass. Even tried painting under that same magnifier. All I can tell you is “don’t try this at home!”
Father’s face has no detail at all in the photo. I’m beginning to steel myself for painting them both out after Mr. Put-My-Parents-In-The-Painting sees it and his face falls to the floor in dismay. (more knitting as stress reliever ahead)
In other news, I have another odd job.
This is how I define those unusual painting or drawing requests that pop up from time to time, simply because I am an established artist who answers her phone and email and shows up and does the work on time. You can see some of those jobs here, here, here, here, here, here and here too.
The customer/collector/client (How would you like me to refer to you??) sent me an email with an image of a Scandinavian snow god.
He recently bought a cabin and wanted this image used on a round wooden sign to put by the front door. We discussed some changes (he is remarkably easy to work with and work for!) and this is the result (minus his name and cabin # because I like to protect people’s privacy):
You would not believe the logistics in painting on a round wooden sign! I could hardly believe the weird things I had to figure out.
But, I like me a good challenge. (Read that sort of wording in several blogs by Southern artists, and it tickled my word-fancy-button.) If I didn’t, I’d be turning down a lot of work. Commissions really add spice to the life of this California artist.
An old friend asked me this last week. We only see each other once a year or so, so we aren’t close. I think he thinks that art is my hobby that I sort of fit in around my life. When I told him what all I do, he was very surprised. This means a couple of things: we really don’t know each other very well, and I’m not getting the word out very effectively that I am a full time professional artist.
Marketing, you say? Nope. I’m too busy working right now.
Check out this list from the other day:
Apparently, I’m too busy to paint or do marketing. (the kind that gets the word out about business, not the kind that puts groceries in the frig so I can burn them for dinner while I work on the puter.)
It’s time for an interview with the California Artist. There are questions out there about the commissioned oil painting, and the interviewer is very curious.
Why did you accept the commission to put the parents in the painting?
I am not exactly sure – because I wanted the job? Because I like challenges? Because how will I learn if I don’t attempt it? Because I took a blow to the head in some distant past that damaged my ability to say no? Because he was very insistent and I am weak under pressure?
Did you charge him more because it involves a portrait?
Nope.
Did you just say “nope”?
Yep.
For Pete’s sake, why DIDN’T you charge him more?
Ummmm, because I have a price list based on size, not on difficulty. Because it might not turn out. Because I am weak. Because I was unprepared. Because I don’t paint portraits and didn’t have a plan.
You aren’t really that desperate for work, are you?
Never desperate, always eager. I want to make hay while the sun shines, strike while the iron is hot, and any other cliche you can think of that means GREAT OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN WHILE GETTING PAID!
But what if the parents don’t turn out?
I have an escape route! I told Mr. Put-My-Parents-In-The-Painting two important things: 1. He MUST tell me if he doesn’t like them because I MUST have happy customers. 2. If he doesn’t like them and I can’t fix them to his satisfaction, I get to paint them out.
Won’t that look like a mess?
With oil paint, it is fairly easy to cover over mistakes. In pencil, after a certain amount of erasing, a shadow often remains and is hard to cover.
How is the painting coming along?
I’m so glad you asked that question! Have a look at the progress:
