Further Development on the Commissioned Oil Painting

Five step-by-step photos today, mostly painting left to right.

So many parts in the photo were ambiguous and repetitive that I often lost my place. A way to combat this lostness is to first paint the things that are definite, then make up the stuff around them. Some of my sizes are probably definitely wrong, and some of the fields are missing. The customer said accuracy isn’t important—she is looking for conceptual interpretation of the subject. I don’t think there are any Geography Police gunning for me.

Lower left will be blueberries; upper right will be avocado leaves.

I am liking the painting, which is always a relief, especially when it starts out so loose and rough and confusing.

Beginning a 10×20” Commissioned Oil Painting

The real estate customers chose the panoramic shape.

Good thing they know I can paint. (Well, duh, that’s why they commissioned me.)

This is similar to my current favorite subject to draw and paint, but there are blueberries and avocados rather than orange trees. There is also a distinct lack of snow-covered mountains and no poppies on the distant hills, but still, it is similar.

View from Wutchumna, 12×24”, private collection

Wait, “current” favorite subject? The painting above was completed in 2022. Here’s the first one I did in 2008.

Family Farm, size forgotten, private collection

Before oil painting, I drew similar scenes in colored pencil in a year I did not record, before I had a scanner, and when I had a web designer who added watermarks.

And before that, I drew similar scenes in pencil.

Spring Citrus, pencil, sold long ago

Enough remembering and bloviating. Get back to work, Central California Artist!

Reminder

I help people write books and get them printed. The books that I have shepherded from idea to publication but that I don’t sell can be found on this new page: OTHER PEOPLE’S BOOKS. This includes Tales of TB, Springville’s Hospital, The Crooked Cross of Diamond Lake, Only the Living, and Adventures in Boy Scouting.

Finally Back to the Drawing Board | Actually a Table

After I finished formatting, photo editing and captioning, cover designing, bar code ordering and finally ordering the Springville book, I went back to the drawing board, which is actually a “drawing table”, I think.

Remember this sketch?

The upper house is mostly finished, and I was able to begin the lower one.

Jackson came into the studio, announcing his presence or perhaps expressing his dissatisfaction with life. He sat behind me in my chair so he could bite the back of my arms.

I hissed at him to make him stop, so he climbed onto the table.

That felt risky, so I was glad he decided to move on. He seemed interested in taking a nap in this basket, and as soon as I pulled out the inferior phone to take a photo, he changed his mind. Notice the wooden palette hanging on the wall. This was a gift from my thoughtful and comical Intern.

Despite the feline disruptions, I was able to make progress. As much as I enjoy editing and book design, it is never as restful as simply operating a pencil on paper. I was able to have a couple of phone calls and still be productive, something that is not possible when banging along on a keyboard, trying to make Photoshop, InDesign, or Word cooperate.

April Arrived as Always

Silly title, sacrificing sense for alliteration. My blog, my silliness.

This is the April page on my 2026 calendar. (all gone. . . whaddya expect in month #4?)

These sycamores are so picturesque. . . used to be so thick that the buildings beyond were a mystery. After I started drawing this, the trees got pruned, things got raked, and a few months later I attended a Celebration of Life at the barn hidden back there. Who knew??

Yeppers, it’s for sale. You can email me for details if you are interested.

Happy April to all y’all!

Back to Buckling Down

Here is the afternoon’s painting session after a morning of exploring around Lake Kaweah. I’m easing into the production of Mineral King paintings, with the workshop doors open to the greenery, flowers, cats, and sounds of leaf blowers, chain saws, a distant donkey, and the occasional vehicle. March is a month full of distractions and temptations to lollygag. However, summer is coming and incomplete paintings will not sell.

It is efficient to paint the same scenes at the same time since the colors are mixed on the palette. Because this is the most popular scene to sell at Silver City, I paint it in multiple sizes and shapes, and at different times of day and in different parts of the summer season.

I was pleased to be able to finish these—see the signatures? The previous painting session did not yield anything that was ready to be signed. If I can get those 3 plus 2 from an earlier session detailed and signed, then I’ll be over halfway to completing the ten paintings.

Why ten? With the ones that remain from last year, this is a total of about 15 paintings. Silver City Store sells anywhere from ten to twenty paintings for me each summer. I don’t want to have too much inventory left at the end of summer. So I keep track as paintings sell, then paint more of the popular subjects that have sold out.

It’s all a guessing game, supplemented with a little bit of intuition and experience. That’s the business of art.

In case you have forgotten:

I use pencils, oil paint, and murals to make art that you can understand of places and things you love for prices that won’t scare you.

Finally Painting Sequoias Again

After a couple of weeks of messing around, I finally planted my feet in front of the easels to complete these three Sequoia paintings.

First, I dabbled on this one day, and then said, “Never mind, I’d rather [walk] [pull weeds] [go to the library] [anything else]”.

I girded my loins, and returned to the easels on another day. Can you tell which one is finished among these three?

Now two are finished, on the face anyway.

The light is beginning to wane, but all three are now finished on their faces.

The edges remained. It is a good way to use up the rest of the paint, and I hold them in my hand and rotate them around, trying to not end up wearing any paint. Finally, I laid them flat to dry.

The next oil painting task is to decide what to paint for the Silver City Store. Summer is like Christmas—we KNOW when it is coming, there is no excuse for procrastination, and there is plenty of time to prepare without getting jammed up against the calendar.

Maybe in one of those avoidance activities, I can engage in some deep thought to figure out why I was so reluctant to work on these paintings, which sell steadily at two local art stores/gift shops.*

Then since I was on a roll with Sequoia Trees, I got this panel set up in the sunshine to recoat the sky because that knothole made a weird appearance.

*Kaweah Arts and Stem & Stone

Thoughts on Internship

My Intern

Today I am painting, progressing on the mural on the Ivanhoe library. I am writing this post before I have painted today, thinking ahead.

Each day I work on the mural, there are multiple decisions to make. In the past, when I’d get a little stuck, I’d pick a somewhat mindless task, such as taping off an area or applying a base coat. Since having Intern to help, I save those tasks for him.

Sometimes I invite him to step back with me to look at the whole picture. I ask him what he sees, we discuss the next steps, and often I ask him which task he thinks ought to come next. I ask him for 2 reasons: (1) to help him understand the thought necessary in the process of creating such a massive painting and (2) sometimes I have “decision fatigue”, which might be a euphemism for mental laziness.

In anticipation of today’s work, I made a list of the next easy tasks, and in the process, I realized that his role as an active intern on this mural might reach an end today. What remains are tight detailing: the man on the ladder, some smudgepots, the rooster, tighter lettering, the auditorium, a wind machine, and perhaps a couple of surprises.

I wonder if he will still want to hang around while I work on these things. He might, he might not. More will be revealed in the fullness of time.

Someone Else’s Thoughts on Internships or Apprenticeships

The next two paragraphs are taken from Eric Rhoads, the prolific painter, writer, workshop and convention coordinator and leader—the man who led the weeklong plein air retreat in Monterey that I attended in October 2024.

“. . .that’s exactly how the masters worked. Apprentices would paint backgrounds, grind pigments, even paint entire sections of ‘the master’s’ work. Collaboration wasn’t a buzzword; it was how things got done. Raphael had an entire workshop of apprentices painting from his designs. Was it still “his” work? The Renaissance said yes. Our modern obsession with individual authorship would have confused them.

When I let those kids paint on my canvas, I wasn’t risking ruining it. I was enacting a centuries-old tradition. And more importantly, I was doing what those Renaissance masters did: passing it on. Because here’s the secret they knew and we’ve forgotten — art isn’t about the final product. It’s about the transformation that happens in the making. —From Eric Rhoads

In case you were curious, I kept track of Intern’s hours and paid him last week. I will pay him for his remaining hours of working, but not if he chooses to simply observe. He was shocked by the check, slightly insulted when I asked him if he knew what to do with a check, and felt unworthy, as if he owed me something in return.

I reminded him that he gave me some hours of his life, I gave him the equivalent of green pieces of paper with dead presidents’ faces on it in exchange, and we were even.

I Wonder

How many more Fridays will it take to complete this? Should Intern’s name go on the mural? Will I be able to do all those details without his excellent eye and honest input? Will I be able to help him find a steady job? Will he go on to paint a mural of his own? (He is into videography more than 2-dimensional art.)

Look how far we’ve come in ten days of painting!

The end of Day One:

The end of Day Ten:

Enough bloviating for today. Come back Monday to see how close we are to the end of this most satisfying project.

Library Mural, Day Ten

I left sunny Three Rivers and headed down into the fog. I remember worse fog when I lived outside of Ivanhoe with my parents, so this wasn’t too awful.

Downtown Ivanhoe
Can you see the mural through the fog?

The mural looked like this. I seem to forget where I left off from week to week. I’m pleased with the repaired mountains. Intern and my Number One Fan (Josie brings me treats, encouragement, and posts to some FaceBook group) both noticed the improvement.

I began with orange blossoms.

Intern began working on another layer of white over the words on the label. Since there was only one color used, instead of using a palette, I told him he could dip straight out of the jar. Might have been a mistake, but one we can recover from. When the paint dries, we will simply peel up the plastic, because mural paint is acrylic, and acrylic is plastic.

Slight spillage in the mud. I scooped up as much as possible and put it back in the jar. I wonder if this will dry in the ensuing week.

Next, he worked on the lower border of the auditorium inset.

The two orange groves in the Twin Buttes inset weren’t good enough. So, I made them better. Here are the steps:

Next, orange blossoms on the close branches on the right side.

After Intern left, I was bored* with orange blossoms so I decided to tackle the most difficult piece: the auditorium. Although I prefer drawing architecture to almost any other subject, painting from a poor photo on a rough wall while sitting in the mud presents some challenges.

Most of what remains is tight detailing. This might mean that I’ve almost run out of ways for Intern to assist. However, he will be quite helpful on the distant orange blossoms.

*Probably not actually bored, just wanting to do something with more impact so it felt as if I was making measurable progress.

Three Assorted Christmas Eve Thoughts

Today we continue the assorted thoughts, all unrelated to one another and unrelated to Christmas Eve.

  1. Last week I was in the Post Office and there was a bit of a line, which gave me the opportunity to do nothing but eavesdrop and observe. There were four of us women in the lobby, all wearing jeans. I observed 3 styles: A. super tight, AKA “skinny jeans”, worn by someone simply because that is what was available or perhaps worn because she thought that any fad is simply “cute” without regard to whether or not it is flattering; B. very wide legs, rolled up to be “floods” or “high waters”, worn because they were available and fit or perhaps because she thought they were the “latest” (which only lasts a few months any more) without regard to whether or not it looked silly; C. normal jeans, except sort of baggy and stacked up on the shoes, worn because they are never in style nor out of style, they don’t squeeze a body, don’t look like “high waters”, because they fit, and because they are comfortable. (Bet you can guess what Jeans Camp I belong to). I was happy to see that no one was wearing purposely torn jeans.
  2. In listening to a podcast that ends with “something you might not know”, I learned that The Chipmunks were created in 1958 by someone messing around with an old tape recorder (or whatever machine was around then) on high speed. As a result, I got them singing their Christmas song on repeat in my head. Made me laugh to hear those voices from my youth.
  3. I might be finished with the Yellow Tunnel! I dug through the provided photos and cobbled together enough visual helps to turn the humanoid into a hiker, then texted Mr. Customer. He said, “I think he looks great!” I replied, “Well, glory to God for answered prayers for help on this!”

Then I painted the edges.

not finished

That’s enough. I am guessing most of my blog readers have other things to do on Christmas Eve than read assorted and sundry thoughts from an artist’s rambling and active mind.

Yes, calendars and spaces in the beginning drawing workshop are still available. Look at yesterday’s post for the links. I’m busy thinking thoughts rather than finding links.