Not Too Much

And that is the answer to “Hey Central California Artist, what are you working on these days?”

The side view of my studio isn’t nearly as cute as the front view.

Odd Job

My friend G explained that he just needs an outline of what might pass for the tops of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, stretched across a single 12 foot panel. Jimmy delivered four for some unknown reason.

First, we flipped the panel around so that the rustiest part was showing. While G was explaining, I got out some chalk and started drawing. G had a few comments, and I finished drawing before he finished talking. Easy peasy.

I suggested that he have Jimmy cut along my line with his plasma cutter, then see how it looks in place and see if his customer is happy. If not, either cut a bit more, or have me draw it again on another panel.

After G left, I went spelunking in my flat files. (That’s how I found the colored pencil drawing of my sister’s neighbor’s car.)

Old Job

I found this project, from 2000 when I was learning colored pencil and portraiture at the same time. It wasn’t a success. The girl on the right was actually drawn using a different photo, and neither one looked quite like herself.

I thought about what I would tell me drawing students: turn it upside down, study every shape and evaluate EXACTLY how it looks. After an hour or two, I decided that it was good enough.

The color is dreadful. It wasn’t worth fetching the laptop and going through all the steps to scan. So I photographed it one more time and sent it to the girls’ mom. She was my first friend in Three Rivers and has encouraged and pushed me to try hard things for 27 years!

No difference in the photography. I might end up scanning it. Prolly give it to one of the girls. The one on the right still lives in town and I believe she is 35 years old now.

Holy guacamole.

P.S. The mom didn’t respond to my text and I no longer pretend that I can do portraiture or colored pencil well.

Art from Hume Lake

The first time I drew a Hume Lake cabin, it was for my friend’s parents. Her mom commissioned a pencil drawing.

Wait, not true. The first time I drew a Hume Lake cabin, it was the boys staff cabin across the street from the girls staff cabin, in 1978. It was a present for my roommate, and I didn’t save a picture of the drawing.

Here is my friend’s cabin the first time I drew it (1995), and again after my friend allowed me to improve it (2017).

A few things have changed over the years, but none significantly alter the look. (Two trees in the foreground are history and now the room is metal.)

My friend’s cousins have become my friends too, and one year we were there for a birthday party for three of the cousins. I did three tiny paintings for birthday gifts.

My friend commissioned me to paint some ornaments for some of her cousins. They look awful here—wet, shiny, perhaps even incomplete.

One of the cousins sent me this photo the next year.

My most recent iteration of Hume Lake is in pencil, used in the 2026 calendar. This is the view from the footbridge over Ten Mile Creek, looking toward the Forest Service beach called Sandy Cove. (It doesn’t show—it’s behind the trees on the right.)

I have so many beautiful photos of the lake. . . I could paint it. Maybe I will someday. I know, “someday is not a day”, and “sometime is not on the schedule.”

Careful, Central California Artist

Lalalalala. . . that’s the fat lady singing.

I photographed the Reimer’s drawing to send to the owner for his approval.

Nope, that photo was not good enough, so I raised the blind on the window over the drawing table and tried again.

I told Mr. Owner that this was the time to speak up if he wanted any adjustments.

Mr. Owner replied: “I love it. I just noticed the white curtain over the window in the middle. Do you think there’s something else that might go there that would be appropriate or that might look good other than just the white?”

I responded: “I’ll send you the scanned version so you can see it’s a pretty lace curtain. I don’t think that came through with my photograph.”

Scanning is a trick because it is drawn on paper that is ever so slightly too large for my new scanner. I tried it umpteen times, and finally decided it was as centered as possible. This is the scanned version after some photoshop magic.

A Few Thoughts About the Drawing

Bamboozlement and hoodwinkery are two of the necessary skills to produce a cohesive pencil drawing of a highly detailed building with many angles and parts, condensing about 40 photos into one believable view. Maybe I have earned a master’s degree in visual trickinology by now.

There is more to depicting an iconic business like Reimer’s than simply taking a few photos and copying them. First, it is impossible to get the whole thing into one photo and be able to see all the parts of this varied structural magic land of sugar.

The place is oozing with charm, which is evident in all the curly trim, multi-paned windows and different gables. Those gables show up best when looking at the place straight on, but as I continue to tell you, this isn’t possible with a camera.

The setting is idyllic, and I included a hill in the background to indicate that it is in a rural foothill setting. Besides, the hill IS actually there.

And the place is very welcoming. Hence, the main door is open.

Careful, Central California Artist. You don’t want to get a fat head or break your arm patting yourself on the back!

Very Large, Very Detailed Pencil Drawing

Yeppers, still working on and talking about Reimer’s Candies and Gifts.

I was stuck due to a lack of visual information, considering resorting to some hoodwinkery and bamboozlement.

Instead, I stopped by one morning, climbed up some rocks and took several photos, this one being the most useful.

Alrighty, then, let’s git-‘er-dun!

There was a bit of trickonometry involved here, but remember, the goal is believability. People remember what they thought they saw, without thinking exactly about placements and proportions.

I sent this one to the owner because he likes seeing the progress. I also like to reassure customers that I am working on their project.

Getting there, but holy guacamole, these window panes are window pains.

To be continued. . . I’ll finish shading, figure out how to deal with the parking area, then take some time to make sure there are no outlines, no strokemarks that don’t belong, that there is enough contrast in the right places, that there is no smearing, and finally sign it. After that, I get to figure out how to scan the drawing on my new complicated scanner, probably in 2 parts and then put them together with Photoshop Junior.

I could use some chocolate about now after writing that list. Hmmm, wonder if anyone knows where to find some in Three Rivers. . .

Needing a Master’s Degree…

…or perhaps a PhD. The topic? Trickinology. Visual trickinology.

I’m drawing Reimers Candies and Gifts from a straight-on view, something that isn’t really possible to see in real life. Well, maybe it is, but it would take a wide-angle lens, and the resultant drawing would be an entirely unwieldy shape for reproducing as cards.

Here is a progression of a day’s work (with many interruptions—lots of moving parts in my life during this project). I moved that giant oak tree to the right because it was blocking the gift shop and patio.

Instead of 4 chairs, the table only gets 2. Even this artist has her limits on microscopic furniture depictions.

Here’s a substandard photo for you to admire the distance I’ve covered in this monumental, underpriced, over-engineered pencil drawing. (Yeah, I know, I always say that.)

Those windows and the patio look mighty fine, if I do say so myself. And I do. Just tryna not break my arm patting myself on the back.

After admiring my progress, I was temporarily flummoxed. The section on the far right is the ice cream shop. It has many windows and doors, a sign, two stories, a porch overhang, and a very cantilevered second story roof with a severe angle, which doesn’t show in this photo.

See what I mean about the roofline?

All of it is hidden behind that giant sycamore tree when viewed from a straight on angle.

When my drawing students encounter difficulties (because no one listens to me when I tell them a particular subject is too hard), I advise them to put tissue paper over the top and then try to solve the problems that way. (Usually I end up scribbling a solution on the tissue paper while they sit there either frozen in fear or babbling about how they should have listened to me.)

The sycamore tree is barely coming forward from the far right edge.

That’s about all I can manage before I get frozen in fear or start babbling about how I should have listened to my own advice.

Wait, I didn’t give myself any advice except to make this the very very best depiction that I can possibly do of an iconic Three Rivers business.

More Quarter-Inching

This might put you to sleep. It almost did me, in combination with getting up at 5:30 AM, 103°, and the droning hum of the barely adequate AC.

Can you even tell the difference from the first photo to the second one?

Prolly not because my T-square was over the unfinished lower rocks of the sign.

The owner said he’d like to see it in progress, so I sent him the upper photo. His response: “That’s good” was encouraging. I have had a very small handful of customers through the years who kept making changes, and I was too stupid (or chicken) to say “That change order will cost extra”. Now I make sure that customers see a sketch and approve before diving into the final piece, and if they wish, I show them progression photos.

In case you are interested, this one is 14” x 17”.

In spite of my case of the yawns, it is fun, challenging, and really quite a privilege to have been chosen to draw this iconic Three Rivers business.

Iconic Business Drawing, Quarter-Inching Along

An old friend used to stop by my studio at my first public location in Exeter, just to spend time together chatting, and to offer encouragement. He often said (in admiration, I think), “How do you do that??”

I always answered, “One quarter inch at a time.”

Oooo-weee, this is S L O W. But considering that the last time I drew it was in 1995, this is a worthwhile investment of time. The previous drawing was useful to the Reimers and then to Owners #3 for 30+ years.

I’m glad I mentioned the idea of a new drawing to Owner #4.

Reimer’s Candies and Ice Cream HEY! I JUST LOOKED AT THEIR SITE AND MY PHOTO IS ON IT! Two years ago I went to the grand reopening of the store with my neighbor Robin, and there we are with our friends Benny and Rita!

Enough chit-chat. Back to the drawing board. Do you know anyone else who can say this and mean it literally? And by “literally”, I do NOT mean “figuratively”, which is often how people abuse the word. “That literally blew my mind!” Oh really? Your head looks intact to me, but your brain might be damaged.

Sorry.

Not really. Editors are guardians of the language.

But I digress. . . back to the drawing board, really!

Made the Deadline With Time to Spare

Moving left to right, top to bottom, identifying words whited out, dark photo taken with phone at the end of a day of drawing as the light was getting low.

Still working top to bottom, left to right.

Almost finished, except what should be done about the lower sections of nothingness?

How about some lupine? Good idea!

Here it is scanned and photoshopped into how it looks if you see the drawing in real life.

“Fast or Good”? Not fast this time. This drawing took me over twice as long as a picture of this size normally takes. A combination of three factors really slowed me down:

  • There were many many many photos to sort through and organize and study in order to make a cohesive and accurate drawing. This doesn’t take nearly as long when I am the photographer because I take the photos in a methodical fashion and am familiar with them.
  • There were no photos that showed the cabin clear in its entirety.
  • Many details were missing because there was a ton of stuff on the deck and in front, blocking the much of the cabin.

I relied on old photos, figured out guessed how things might look from a straight-on view, kept asking questions, and relied on 40+ years of experience drawing cabins.

The customer is happy, so I am too. We are assuming the recipient of the drawing will also be happy.

Now, back to Reimer’s.

Fast or Good?

My drawing students are used to me telling them, “You can be fast or you can be good; I get to be both.”

The braggadocio recently got tested. Someone had an art emergency, and gave me about 5 drawing days to complete a commissioned pencil drawing. There were more calendar days than just five, but I can no longer do detailed work in Mineral King (eyes too old and no drawing table or electricity for the magnifying light or to recharge the computer when using photos from it), and I had a funeral to attend, groceries to buy, and some sprinklers to keep running (the landscaping project at church, can’t find the link but you prolly* don’t need to see it anyway, and who cares about “SEO” and all the internet hoops to increase visitation, mostly by scammers and robots? Not this little gray duck.)

First steps

The customer had to get to the cabin, sneak photos when the intended recipient of the drawing was gone, and text them to me. Then I had to transfer them to the laptop and sort through, finding duplicates, organizing by potential usefulness. There were many important questions to be answered: Is the garage important? Is the fire ring important? May I move the sign? Where is the name of the cabin? Is the fairy house important? How many umbrellas are usually on the porch? May I leave off some of those lounge chairs?

Second step

Slammed out a sketch for approval. (I’ve whited out the cabin name and address because after all, this IS the World Wide Web, and we respect privacy in this corner.)

Good thing the customer has faith in my ability to draw. This sketch was fast, but it wadn’t* good by any stretch other than it shows what will be in the drawing.

Starting

I started laying it out, and then got a little tired of that. Shading is the funnest* part, so I started in the upper left so that my right handedness doesn’t smear as I work across.

At the end of the work day (nope, not using the tiresome cliche “at the end of the day”), I was this far along.

I love to draw!

*Wadn’t” is right there with “tryna”, “prolly”, “liberry”, and “Remorial Building”. You may recall that I attended high school in Visalia, the least (second least according to another article) educated city in the entire United States. Let’s just have some fun with that fact.

P.S. If you happen to recognize this cabin, stay quiet about it, PLEASE!

August is my Worst Favorite Month

My longest running drawing student Mae borrowed a photo of this cabin from me and drew it when she was brand new to drawing (but experienced at watercolor painting). She put in in an art show where local history buff and old friend Alan George insisted that it had been drawn by me, despite her name being on the drawing. That was a long time ago, but Mae and I still get a laugh out of remembering it.

I drew this one. It is the oldest cabin in Mineral King.

August always feels like the longest month to me. Endless heat. Sometimes wildfires start and then we have heat and smoke. Not my favorite month. To quote my niece when she was about 3, “It’s my worst favorite.”