Too Dark For Painting

We had an overcast day, with the typical over-promise-and-underdeliver weather forecast of rain. Oh well, at least we didn’t have lightning to worry about.

Since it was too dark to paint, I spent my working hours in the studio, drawing this pencil commission piece.

The approved sketch
The beginning

Sometimes this feels as if I am racing along at a good pace; other times it seems that I sit and stare without a clue as to how to proceed. The difficulty is the same as the Texas drawing: combining many photos into one (hopefully) coherent and believable scene.

I’ve been drawing agriculture subjects for so many years that I have forgotten many of them. I didn’t used to be diligent in photographing my work, back in the days of film cameras, weak copy machines, no home scanners or computers, and certainly no Photoshop.

An old friend sent me this card, which I wrote to her and her husband in 2001 (along with a sweet note because that is just how she is). When I flipped the card over, I saw that I titled the drawing “Tulare Cownty” and included a completely unfamiliar phone number with a 703 area code.

That was many studio locations ago. I’ve been working from home since 2002, and life has changed significantly in many ways.

One constant is still drawing agricultural scenes with pencils. Glad we can count on something to hold steady.

Will the Fat Lady Sing?

Who is the fat lady? Sometimes I sing for my drawing students, not well, and we all laugh.

What am I yammering on about?

The drawing of Texas, which is too large for my scanner, so the upper edge is nipped off and the lower edge is blurry. But first, let’s look at the scratchy beginnings, because it is kind of impressive that my customers trusted me to get from that scribble of bare bones to the finished piece. (Mr. Customer said he’d have recognized it even if he hadn’t commissioned the piece!)

I was just dragging it out before showing you the scan. . . wanting a drumroll or something. . . padding the post so it isn’t so brief.

Is it finished?

The customers just responded:

We love it Jana! This will be so special to the family, for generations. Thank you so much! We wouldn’t add or take away anything—we say it’s finished!

Maybe I ought to sing to myself a little. . .

Weird, But Good

My solo show, Around Here, in Tulare was originally going to consist solely of oil paintings. However, I asked the director if she also wanted pencil drawings, which normally attract attention but not sales, and she said, “Sure, why not?”

So, I gathered up my best framed pencil pieces and added them to the mix.

The director hung them on their own wall.

Well, saw off my legs and call me Shorty; shut your mouth and slap your grandma*, all that sold from the show was pencil drawings!**

*Heard that on a country song

**And many packages of notecards plus a few books.

Thanks, all y’all!

P.S. J.C. I can draw Sawtooth again for you if you’d like one of your own.

And Another Commissioned Pencil Drawing

Same customers, similar approach, different state.

This new pencil commission is looking across a driveway at a vineyard with the Sierra* in the distance.

The customers provided current photos of the view, but now the vineyard is gone and almond (or peach? plum? nectarine?) trees are in their place.

So, I went exploring on the interwebs, and I took photos while driving to Tulare to retrieve my art from “Around Here”. (solo show in August—I’ll tell you more about it later.)

Looking at the provided photos and emailed conversations, I did a first draft sketch.

The customers (who communicate VERY WELL!) asked that I move our viewpoint to the left, include a redwood (probably coastal, AKA sequoia sempervirens), and the brick planter/mailbox, while deleting the California flag and leaving out the color in the freesias.

Sketch #2

More will be revealed (and drawn) in the fullness of time.

*My very wise dad taught me that the proper title of our mountains is “the Sierra”, NOT “the Sierras”. Now you know.

P.S. Yes, I know what today is. Sigh. Tryna just pretend that all is well here in the world, not tryna be disrespectful.

Instruct me, Please

When working on custom art, which involves combining multiple photos and verbal or written instructions, there must be much communication.

My customers for the Texas drawing said to lower the bluebonnets to keep them inside the fence, since if they are outside the fencing, the cattle eat them.

I keep accidentally thinking of the bluebonnets as lupine, and I made them inside the fence, outside the fence, and too tall, because I didn’t know how to fill the space. My answer to most empty space questions is wildflowers.*

In response to their helpful information about those voracious cattle, I lowered the lupine bluebonnets and added some fencing wire.

Then I photographed each corner and emailed the customers with this request: Instruct me, please!

Colored pencil doesn’t erase (some does, but not well), so until I learn what the fencing actually looks like in real life, this drawing will have to wait.

*Remember this?

More From the Drawing Table

When we last looked at this challenging pencil commission of a Texas scene, it looked like this.

When I don’t know where to begin, I just pick something that is somewhat concrete, something with a photo to follow, rather than work on the things I have to make up. So, distant trees, grass, and tractor. Yeppers, I can draw those.

Next, the Texas state flag in color. This was fun. Luckily, I was somewhat obsessed by that flag while in Texas last year so I had several photos. I had to flip the photo horizontally so that it flies into the scene rather than the more conventional left-to-right orientation.

Next, I tackled the close fence and gate, and then looked up Texas bluebonnets online. (I was in Texas too late for the bluebonnets; guess I’ll have to go in April next time.)

Because this is a bit of a made up subject in the drawing, I took it only this far, outlining them for the customers to approve or make suggestions. It’s too risky to put the color in until I know the size and placements are what the customers like. In commissioned pieces, I am simply a hired pencil.

While waiting to hear back, I put in the sky, tightened up edges, lightened some parts, and darkened others. You can see that I left the lower right corner empty. If the left corner is approved, I’ll be able to somewhat duplicate the sizes on the right side.

This last drawing is scanned. . . the paper is a little too big for my scanner, but I might be able to make it work if the customers want to reproduce it as cards or prints. (I hope they don’t, but I am willing. It will mean a lot of time messing with the scanner and Photoshop Junior.)

P.S. Just heard from the customers, asking that the deer be erased, which I am more than happy to do. They also instructed me about the flowers, which we’ll discuss tomorrow.

Back at the Drawing Table

I told you that I have a very challenging drawing commission. Well yippee skippee, I finally had a pair of minutes to concentrate on the project. It is almost more of a design problem than an is-this-even-possible problem, like those tiny faces back in the winter. (Visible as Item #10 on Ten New Things Learned in February)

This is one of several many photos provided by the customers.

Nothing to do but just pull out some pencils, a sheet of 14×17 “ paper, and see if I can lay out the basics. (Crying or pulling out my hair would have been unhelpful.)

This commission would not be possible without the extensive communication with the customers. I am combining about a dozen photos, adding and moving all sorts of things, figuring out sizes and placements that are believable and pleasing and make sense to the customers.

I moved from my drafting table to the desk behind me because the morning light coming in the window made it impossible to see my laptop screen. Yeppers, this techno-resister now draws more from her screen than from paper photos. (I even drive an automatic car now, but still prefer manual and do NOT own a microwave, so there.)

In figuring out how to make sense of the tractor size and placement, I outlined it on tracing paper and then started moving it around the drawing to see where the size and placement made the most sense.

A friend used to visit me regularly in my studio and ask, “How in the world do you do that?” My answer was usually, “One quarter inch at a time.” This drawing might be more like an eighth inch at a time.

Yep. Those are Wilsonia books on the desk. Want one?

Because all my art was in Tulare while I was working on this commission, I was able to stick it on the wall for taking photos to send to the customers with each new batch of questions.

The gate in the foreground looked too small so I did the tissue thing, making it bigger, and then sending it to the customers for their approval. I also asked about the flags because they had asked for the American flag on top and the Texas flag below. While in Texas last year, I learned that Texas is the only state that flies its flag at the same height as the American flag because they used to be a sovereign nation. Texans are very proud of their state, and I posted about how that lone star appears in all sorts of unexpected places.

The bigger gate was better (because this is Texas? Nope, because it looked correct). And the American flag got ditched for just the lone star flag, now flapping into the scene.

This was the result of a long uninterrupted (HALLELUJAH!) day at the drawing table.

Who knows when I’ll have another day like this? Looking forward to it. . . there are trees, a tractor, grass, a flag, and Texas bluebonnets waiting for my attention, but these lovely customers are not pressuring me at all. And after drawing for about 8 hours straight, (okay, a couple of breaks, and a lot of staring and questioning), it was time to stop before I got careless and did something stupid. (You are shocked?? Sorry to disappoint you, but I do stupid things sometimes.)

Drawing Workshop

Upcoming!

Besides loving to draw, it makes me happy to help other people learn to draw. A friend named Anne Brown has been asking me for many years to give a workshop up here, and since she offered to host it and for whatever reason I now have some time, (OH, because I’m not preparing for a solo show since I still have paintings from the last solo show, phooey but yea), we scheduled this drawing workshop.

Because I Felt Like Drawing

In 1990, I drew the Exeter Woman’s Club. (Yes, that is the correct name—I just work here.) It was part of a set of notecards called Tulare County Landmarks. No one can find the original drawing. All I have is this scan of a notecard with a hole punched in the corner.

The club asked to use the drawing, and had an old scan or some other format, not really up to my standards. But I didn’t mind and gave my permission. (It is rare that people know the copyright law which is that the artist holds the copyright, so I was impressed and thankful that they asked.)

They are celebrating a big anniversary (100 years?) and plan to publish a cookbook. The president of the club and I are longtime friends, and we began discussing the cover of the cookbook. I couldn’t stand the idea of a shoddy reproduction of my old drawing (not that it was great 35 years ago), so my friend went spelunking, unsuccessfully, in all sorts of places trying to locate the drawing.

Because I hit a slow time (feast or famine in the art business), I asked her to send me a photograph so that I could draw it again. She complied, and I dove in immediately on a rainy day.

Before finishing, I scanned it without a background, since that is how I drew it 30 years ago.

Then I drew in a dramatic background and scanned it again.

My friend asked me to make a couple of adjustments, which were easy to do. Here it is in its final form. After growing the new shrubs into a hedge with my pencils, I photoshopped the palm trees because of a strange request to shorten them by 1/4”. (As I said earlier, I just work here.)

I love to draw (But don’t ask me for a freebie, okay?)

P.S. My friend did NOT ask for a freebie—I offered. She did ask for some modifications, and I happily complied.

A Little Help From My Friend

It is important that we are kind and complimentary to one another in drawing lessons. It is equally important that we are honest.

AH is my friend and also one of my drawing students. Since she owns dogs, she saw something a little wrong in my drawing on the dog with the black head. I own cats (or perhaps they own me, because they are certainly manipulative and bossy), and haven’t had a dog as an adult.

Her suggestion was accurate and helpful.

I made the correction and finished the drawing. (I bet you can’t even tell what was wrong!)

Thank you, AH!!

And now we return to my bosses.

Tucker
Jackson
Pippin