Too Hard to See, Too Hard For Me

I told my customer that with a dark, blurry, murky photo that was lacking in detail, I would have to make a dark, blurry murky painting that is lacking in detail, and that’s not a technique I have mastered.

So she sent me a photo of a barn and asked if I could paint it instead.

YES I CAN!

Excuse me for shouting. What a relief! 

She also asked if I could add some grazing deer to the house painting. I was so relieved and happy about the barn that I said yes, in spite of not knowing what size they should be. People don’t know that artists don’t automatically know these things. The size is based on where they are placed, and now that I look at the beginnings here on the screen, I can see that these are looking small, like Little Bucky.

I also started adding in the branches that frame the house. It’s a shame to cover up those perfect clouds, but without those leafy limbs, the shadows don’t make sense. Those deer will need to be completely redone. At least the messed up deck on the right of the house is coming together, as are the details on the doors and windows. I don’t like the stairs or the rocks, but it could be the distorted colors on the screen that makes them look like periwinkle slabs. 

This dark and murky mess is going to become a barn.

Pippin doesn’t understand all the commotion. 

Never mind, he’ll just perch in the window and keep hoping that treats appear soon.

The paint was wet on the canvas and I had a bit of difficulty covering over the previous day’s mess.

So, I got it this far, then carried it into the house to dry more so I can continue. There will be cattle grazing in this one. 

I think this will turn out okay. Eventually.

And eventually, nay, SOON, I will run out of 2023 calendars.

Very few 2023 Calendars Available Here, $20 inc. tax.

 

Inching Toward Order (I Think I Can)

The process of oil painting begins in a total mess, and each successive layer is I more inch toward order. 

I had two 10×20″ commissioned oil paintings of ranch houses, one from a fairly clear photo, and the other from a dark photo of murky edges and shapes. Unfortunately, that second ranch house is no longer in existence, so I had to just work with what has been provided.

It was a little bit too hard, so I began with the easier one.

First, you can see the beginning mess, along with my reference photo on the laptop (although it isn’t clear, and since I didn’t take the photo, I don’t feel free to show it here).

It was a cold wet day, so all the doors were closed to the painting workshop. This was upsetting to Jackson and to Tucker, who is very nervous about the fan which blows heat up to the easels. Jackson asked to come in, and then he kept biting me on the backside. I finally sat with him on my lap for a bit, explaining to him that I wasn’t in the workshop to feed him treats. This was hard for him to understand, so eventually he asked to go outside. AGAIN.

Sky first, because it is the farthest piece and also the easiest. I have to ease into these giant difficult paintings, reminding myself that an elephant gets eaten just one bite at a time.

For some reason, I was struggling with window placement and size, so I flipped the painting upside down to help me see the proportions more accurately.

Right side up helps me see if I got things right. That light and shadow on the house is what makes this a good subject to paint.

Those front steps are quite interesting, very custom to this basic house. The big lawn is also important.

Now it needs to go into the house to dry so that the next layer of detail doesn’t just smear all to kingdom come. (How’s that for a weird saying?)

This needs a leafy branch shading the upper left side, another leafy tree shading the upper right side, details on the windows, the door, the steps leading to the door, the planting bed on the front of the house, and an almost indiscernible mess of a pergola and patio area to the right of the house.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. . .

What I CAN DO FOR SURE, is send you a 2023 calendar.

 Five 2023 Calendars Left, Available Here, $20 inc. tax.

Dabbling, Puttering, Inching Forward

This is a scarf, knit for a friend. The colors reminded me of her, and I couldn’t decide between 2 different yarns, so I got both. It is really a dark burgundy, but both the camera and the computer lie.

None of our three cats are allowed indoors. Oops. Is that Pippin in the living room again?

Stop puttering and get to work!

I have two 10×20″ oil painting commissions to complete and mail before Christmas. This is tricky to accomplish unless I put down the camera, put down the knitting, and plant my feet in front of the easels.

It might be tricky anyway, because the photos are less than stellar, less than clear, and full of murky indiscernible things. 

After getting the beginnings of both those oil paintings accomplished, I retreated to the studio for a bit of forward motion on the commissioned pencil drawing.

Inching forward. . . 

Sold in Summer

If you can’t see the photos, go here: cabinart.net/blog. 

Sales have slowed down a bit, which makes me concerned for my sellers and their businesses. However, I remain both busy and optimistic with some new projects pending. That will appear in another post.

Sequoias, some poppies remaining from spring, one commission, and the rest was Mineral King, of course. No pencil drawings this time.

 

But, summer isn’t over, not in weather, nor the calendar. Of course, the calendar says September 21 is the beginning of fall, but everyone knows that Labor Day is the other bookend to Memorial Day, holding together those weeks that remind us of the beach, fluffy reading, swatting mosquitoes, fireworks, watermelon, road trips, cowering in the A/C, and a sense of NEEDING to be off work.

Thus we conclude another peek into the (seasonal) business of art.

Hot Day in the Orange Grove

If you can’t see the photos, go here: cabinart.net/blog. Just another hot day at the easel, painting another orange grove.

Is it an “orange grove” or an “orange orchard”? We tend to call it “orange grove” or “orchard”. Some people call it a “ranch”, but I have yet to see any cattle in an orange grove. 

Commissioned Oil Painting

The swamp cooler kept me at the easel working on this commissioned oil painting until early evening. Growing leaves takes some time, particularly on a 16×20″ custom oil painting.


Reference Photos

In spite of being a familiar subject to paint, the piece is a challenge due to the melding of multiple scenes in multiple lights with multiple sizes and perspectives. My goal is consistency, believability, and of course, beauty. Always beauty, along with as close I can get to truth while fabricating the scene.

Here are a few of the dozen or so photos that I referred to. (Not showing the children because I respect people’s privacy here on the World Wide Web).

I love this photo. If I could have figured out how to put the children in this one and have the sizes all make sense AND be large enough to paint some detail, I would have used this one.

The painting still needs orange blossoms, and might need a wind machine. And because I believe it depicts the best part of Tulare County*, I will probably keep polishing it, drawing with my paintbrush, not wanting to quit.

Good thing there isn’t a deadline.

*I asked Ecosia (a new-to-me search engine instead of DuckDuckGo) to find me information on “the best of Tulare County” and it went to the Exeter Sun-Gazette, an article about Tulare County leading the nation in illiteracy. Sigh.

 

 

Many Happy Returns (and some not quite as happy)

If you can’t see the photos, go here: cabinart.net/blog. 

Three Returns

One advantage (and disadvantage) of being in the art business in the same county year after year after year, is that sometimes your art gets returned to you. Some are happy returns, some are hassley returns.

The circle is a sign, painted by me about 10 years ago. The customer was happy and now the disintegrating sign needs to be replaced, larger this time.

The citrus art was for sale at Farmer Bob’s World, and nothing sold. The customer wasn’t happy, apparently. (Who was the customer? No one.) I am happy that I can sell it in a place with greater visitation.

Many years ago when I began oil painting, a friend (because almost everyone in Tulare County is a friend, unless he is a friend of a friend) bought this painting. That friend has moved on to his reward, and the painting was given to the Mineral King Preservation Society. The MKPS brought it to me because it needed a little attention after all these years. This is not a happy return because my friend is gone, but it is a happy return because I can spruce it up.

Interruption: What is Pippin Doing?

If This Ever Gets Returned…

The customers presented this painting to the happy recipient, who got a little teary-eyed. He and I have many things in common, and we just chattered away about various aspects of this painting, such as how the idea was conceived, what exactly is in it, why I left some things out, and how much we love this view. He is sort of like anutter brutter from our utter mutter. (And if this painting gets returned, I’m hanging it in my house!)

No More Return

I returned to this colored pencil drawing. The original concept was to only use the 24 Prismacolor colored pencils in their limited set. Those stupid pencils kept breaking, so I started using lots of other colors too. It reminded me of one of the many reasons I quit using colored pencils.

I doubt if I will be returning to colored pencils any time soon.

Not Returning This Either

About a year ago after a whole lot of trouble, I finally bought a mini fridge for the painting workshop. The freezer is where I store my oil painting palette, a convenient luxury. The big box store was TERRIBLE to deal with. A few weeks ago when I retrieved my palette, it was HOT inside the fridge. Sigh. I unplugged it, pulled it off its pedestal, propped the door open, and now I have to figure out how to get rid of it. I am NOT going back to the extremely inept, incompetent, undertrained, understocked, understaffed, and apathetic big box store. Instead, I will consider it one year of luxury, now both a memory and a hassle. (Learned in June 2021, #10)

Are You Drawing With Your Paintbrush Again?

If you read this blog through an email subscription on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

Yes, I am drawing with my paintbrush again. Paintbrushes, and the smallest I can find, treating them as if they are pencils. Wet flexible pencils are not as effective as graphite pencils, but I think this painting is getting better as a result of all this teensy work.

Remember this?

The first item of business was to complete the distant hills and grove.

Next, instead of painting around the children, I dove into the minutiae, “minutiae” in terms of size, not in terms of importance.

Boy first, because as a righthanded artist, working from left to right lessens the risk of smearing wet paint.

Since the photo of the children was taken in a parking lot, it will be tricky to manage the light in a believable manner, and tricky to make believable shadows. First, though, we need believable children.

These kids are just so cute, both in person and on canvas.

Much work remains, and it will be thoroughly enjoyable as I pursue art of Tulare County, combining my favorite subject of citrus and the mountains with the challenge of believable little people.

Familiarity Breeds Comfort

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

“Familiarity breeds contempt” in some cases; in the context of my oil painting endeavors, familiarity breeds comfort. “Sawtooth Near Sunnypoint #8” is signed, sealed, and delivered, another commissioned oil painting in the archives.

This means I can move into another comforting subject, one that I love to paint, although this one has its own challenges. This oil painting commission came with much freedom. The customer didn’t care what orchard as long as it is oranges, wasn’t concerned about the foothills, and after much conversation (“Really, you must care about something specific here!”), he decided that Sawtooth and Homer’s Nose made the most sense for the visible peaks. His focus is the children, and he provided good photos.

If I were a loosey-goosey painter, this would be close to finished. Alas, I am a painter who loves detail and when this dries, I will begin drawing with my paintbrushes on this Tulare County classic view.

 

A New Oil Commission

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

Custom art, or “commission” work might be the most satisfying piece of my business. I am painting something that someone really wants, painting with confidence that it will be loved, and confidence that it will be sold. 

Artists can be so insecure. We pour ourselves onto paper or canvas, creating something that really lights our fire, getting lost in the process, and then . . . what? Nothing happens.

So, when I get a commission, particularly one of something that I am familiar with (orange groves, sequoia trees, Sawtooth, cabins, or anything Mineral King), it is a real pleasure to paint.

Beginnings

The customers chose 16×20″. I primed the canvas, assigned an inventory number, and wired the back. Pippin hung around, but wasn’t interested in the details. (And the vase of lemon geranium may have repelled the mosquitos.)

It was near the end of the day, and I was in danger of falling into Idiotville, where Stupid, Sloppy, and Careless reside, so I set it aside for the day.

And this is how it looked after the next painting session:

That again? 

Yeppers, this time in oil paint instead of pencil. Not sisters this time—a brother and a sister, different grove. And no deadline, so I will spend oodles of time make this piece of Tulare County art perfect.

Oodles, I said.

Really Painting Sawtooth Again

If you subscribe to the blog and read the email on your phone, the photos might not show up. (Some people get them, some do not; it isn’t a problem I know how to solve.) You can see them by going to the blog on the internet. It is called cabinart.net/blog, and the latest post is always on top.

I really am painting Sawtooth again. In fact, I finished the painting.

Clear, enlargeable photos, along with an operational swamp cooler, good podcasts, and nothing difficult hanging over my head made it easy to just git ‘er dun instead of looking for excuses to stop because it was too hard. Oh wait—must be experience that created the momentum.

See the South Fork Estates sign through the easel? That odd job is completed, which is why there is nothing hanging over my head. 

Here is the progression: I have finally learned how to scan and photoshop this size of painting in spite of it being too long for my flatbed scanner. When combined with Photoshop Junior, I can patch the 2 scans together.

This is not that; this is too wet to scan. But, it is finished!! Only took me seven times to get comfortable enough with this scene to be able to stretch it into a 6×18″.