Happy Birthday, Lauren!!
After a quick start on the redwood and dogwood painting (redwoods are Sequoia Giganteas, Sequoia being the source of the name for Sequoia National Park), it was time to do my usual slow, careful, meticulous, thoughtful detailing. (Is this painting better or painting the same as I always do??)
Want to buy this painting?? You may. It is 12×16″, $300 plus California sales tax of 8%, one of the highest tax rates in the nation.
After a recent trip to Sequoia National Park to see the dogwood in bloom, I had a desire to paint them with a redwood tree in the background. The printed photos hadn’t yet arrived, so why not paint while looking at the computer screen? Then I began thinking about my “Paint Better” and “Sell More Paintings” goals, squishy at best, definitely not “SMART”. The idea of “Paint Better” is so vague; maybe it could mean to paint looser, just get the idea of colors, shapes, darks and lights. Maybe this would work with dogwood and redwood.
Maybe this will work. The redwood has to dry before the dogwood can go on the top. Otherwise, it might look like mudwood.
Painting of the day:
The three small redwood oil paintings are completed and for sale at Anne Lang’s Emporium in Three Rivers (or you can contact me directly.)
But wait! There’s more (in progress). This is 11×14″. The canvas began with a portrait of a stranger in a workshop; it was too hard for me, I didn’t know the person, I have no plans to become a portrait artist, so bye-bye, Stranger Face.
I had an extra peach painting that was going to become an orange, and then after a reality check, it got turned into redwood trees. This is Three Rivers, gateway to Sequoia National Park, and I need to have paintings of sequoia trees.
Sequoia Gigantea = redwood = Big Tree. I went to Redwood High School so “redwood” is the name that comes most automatically.
Here are the paintings drying on the pegboard/chalkboard. I had to photoshop out a bunch of phone numbers from the background before I accidentally publicized my personal phone directory. This is how we do things when we don’t have cell phones. And no, it didn’t say “For a good time call. . .”
Why don’t I just photoshop the redwood trees onto the canvas??
Forget it. I’m an oil painting Central California artist, not a computer chick.
Art and Reality is referring to the fact that I earn my living with art and have to be realistic about things.
The economy has definitely picked up. People are buying larger paintings and more of them. Paintings sold very well for me in December (perhaps I’ll do a blog post showing all the ones that are GONE, after I hear definite totals from the galleries.)
This means it is time to paint new things and be realistic about old ones that haven’t sold.
I think I have saturated the market for little fruit paintings, with the exception of pomegranates and of course, oranges! Sequoia trees, Mineral King scenery and oranges are my mainstay. Time for a do-over on paintings which I am the only one who likes. Hard truth, but still better than job hunting. . .
It hurts a little to go from looking good to the stage shown below, but it is temporary.
It’s all part of the business called art.
Once of the most dreaded tasks of an artist is having to write a biography. However, this is a piece of cake compared to an “Artist’s Statement”. I have no idea what this actually is, in spite of having read about them numerous times and having tried to wade through such things as written by other artists.
Look at the type of Artspeak that fills up Artists’ Statements.
I’m constructing a framework which functions as a kind of syntactical grid of shifting equivalences.
Or try to digest this one:
Imagine the possibility that painting might take root and find a place to press forward into fertile new terrain.
In reading a blog by artist Lori Woodward recently, I came across this sentence with which I agree completely. I have had this thought this many times:
Representational works need no explanation – they either resonate with the viewer’s life experience, or they don’t.
Here is a piece of art that I hope just speaks for itself:
And here is the link to Lori’s post: Lori Woodward
Did you think I had forgotten my promise to show you recently finished oil paintings?
Nope.
First, the commissioned piece. It isn’t totally finished, but I never show you the sides of the canvas anyway.
It is Oak Grove Bridge XX, which means #20, but is probably the 25th time I’ve painted it because sometimes my record keeping is not so good.
Now, the P Fruits:
And a Sequoia Gigantea, with the same information as above, except it is a Giant Sequoia tree.
Happy Birthday, Robin!
Today’s post is an update to several paintings in progress.
I carried this one outside to the sidewalk to photograph for you. That’s what the weird gray texture around the sides is. The leaves on one of the pomegranates need another layer, because they were an afterthought. And, when it is dry, it will photograph with more accurate colors. Still have to sign it.
What shall I title this oil painting?
This one is called “Sequoia Gigantea”. That was the name of the newspaper at Redwood High School, and I have never forgotten that it is the real name of what we euphemistically call “The Big Trees” around here. This is to keep them from being confused with the other Big Trees, the other redwoods, the Sequoia Sempervirens, AKA “coastal redwoods.
And the Oak Grove Bridge painting goes on and on and on. . . this time when I saw that the arch still wasn’t right, I adjusted the left side. Why is this so hard for me to paint?? With all the practice I’ve had, you’d think I could paint it with my eyes closed.
Wait. That wouldn’t work.
Paint it with one arm tied behind my back?
Never mind. It is hard, but I love the scene in reality, on paper and on the easel.
This post is brought to you courtesy of the Department of Redundancy Dept. because I keep painting the same scenes and subjects over and over and over and. . .
Did you think I’ve spent the last weeks just driving and walking around, marveling at the river, snow, rain, and Samson in the water?
Nope. I’ve been oil painting every workday. See?
The 2 oil paintings of Sequoia trees are drying, along with the blacksmith shop. (The Commissioner likes it!!)
And, what is this? Sometimes when a painting doesn’t sell, I turn it into something else. This used to be a field of red tulips. No one cared except me.
Hi Samson. Stay out of my palette.
People in my life care more about Sequoia trees than tulips.
Whoa. What is this? It used to be a field of red and yellow tulips. I hope people in my life care more about pomegranates than tulips. I thought briefly about painting all the fruits that begin with “P” – poms, pears, peaches, plums, persimmons and maybe even a pumpkin. A pumpkin would be large and weird with those others. And what would I name it? “Ps”? I could throw in a quince and call it “Ps & Q”. . . never mind.
Hi Samson. Like your new perch? Stay out of my palette. That concrete block is holding down a box over the phone because you have knocked it off the hook too many times.
Part of the business of art is being honest with myself. I have to ask hard questions and face the answers. Why doesn’t a particular painting sell? Maybe it isn’t good enough, or maybe no one cares. I have to face facts and paint things that sell. Otherwise, I might need to get a job.
Sell, Sequoia Tree, Sell. I really don’t want to paint this one out. Paint it over? Paint over it? And don’t worry, this isn’t finished.
Never mind. Back to the easels. . .
Ever heard of growing Sequoia trees with paint? It’s figurative, not literal. Unlike the new (wrong) use of the word “literal”, I mean that I am figuratively growing trees. As in a figure of speech. . .
Please excuse the detour. Words mean things, and sometimes people need to be reminded, although I believe my blog readers are exceptional people, exceptionally smart and aware of reality. Otherwise, why would you all choose to read a blog by a realist? 
This one is finished. It needs to dry, get scanned, varnished and added to inventory on my website. I can’t remember the title (Sequoia Number Something or Sunny Sequoias Number Something) and can’t turn it over to check the title while it is this wet. 
Yikes. This is so ugly with only its first layer. You can see I have begun on the left side, which also happens to be farthest away.
I think it could use another layer of detail, but it will have to wait until it is dryer. “Dryer”? Isn’t that a machine for drying clothes? Maybe I mean “more dry”. Anyone know a good editor??
And this one is also ugly with only a first layer. I’m learning not to despair after only one pass over the canvas. It has only taken 10-1/2 years of painting to understand that ugly happens for a much longer amount of time than the fun part.
Layer by layer. . . this one will also need more detailing and some color correcting.
Here are all three, progressively more complete as you see them from upper to lower.