A Little Painting Session

Recently, I had to leave Three Rivers at 10 a.m. This presented two choices: A. waste time until 10, or B. paint for an hour or two before leaving. Being the responsible mature adult that I am (oh hush, you!), I wisely chose B. Creating Tulare County-based paintings is what I do; wasting time is normally not what I do (or want to admit to doing here on the world wide web.)

After viewing this on my screen while it was still wet, I decided it needed some leaves.

It looks better in this photo because the previous photo was taken at the end of the day. Morning light makes better photography conditions in the painting workshop.

That’s better. When it is dry, I’ll scan it and maybe remember to show you.

There was paint left on my palette and time left on the clock. It is prudent to always have a 6×18” sequoia painting ready for Kaweah Arts to sell to the thousands of visitors who pass through our town on their way to see Sequoia National Park’s sequoia trees AKA redwoods AKA the Big Trees. (These are sequoia gigantea, not to be confused with sequoia sempervirens, which are coastal redwoods.)

Yeppers, I worked from a black and white photo and began the painting upside down. I can fake these trees, so I can certainly guess how this snowy scene might look in summertime.

I started this one differently than usual. I “drew” it on the canvas rather than completely covering the canvas with thin sloppy paint.

It’s a little sloppy, but this was as far as it got when my internal chronometer said to make like a tree and leaf. Or was that to make like a cowpie and hit the trail. . . such colorful images and language from that internal chronometer.

Spoken-for Sequoia

The spoken-for, in-progress Sequoia painting jumped to the top of the queue. Here you can see it in steps to completion.

The light was wrong in the afternoon so I moved the easel to the opposite side of the table. When the painting was finished, I had to flip it upside down to paint the bottom edge.

Because it will be leaving before it is dry enough to scan, I photographed it carefully while upside down in the painting workshop in various lighting. Then I went to work on making the color correct on the computer screen while studying the wet painting in front of me.

I have 2 versions, neither of which really do the painting justice. However, remember that everything looks better in real life (except celebrities).

Sequoia Gigantea IXX, 6×18”, sold

Now it is time to start another one, because my local representatives need me to keep them supplied. This is classic Tulare County art; it is a privilege to be able to see these trees in person and paint them for the visitors (and former residents) of Three Rivers, the true gateway to Sequoia National Park.

Begun, Finished, Improved

Begun

These oil paintings have their first layer down.

Finished

These paintings are dry, scanned, and delivered to their stores. (And in the category of Wishful Thinking, perhaps they are sold.)

Improved

These paintings have some minor items added to make them a smidge better.

Per my customer’s request, this now has a wind machine.
I studied this awhile and added a few more poppies hanging over the road on the bottom right of the painting.

Working Through the List on the Commissioned Oil Painting

And writing the longest blog title ever.

Does this look finished to you? It’s not. When I was driving home a few evenings ago, I really studied the way the ridges change color as they recede into the distance.

So, I messed with them again. The differences are subtle, and now that I see it on my screen, I think it might even want a bit more adjusting. (The painting that never gets finished. . .)

Now there are oranges on the trees.

The blossoms popped out on the trees, and there are a few added in the border embellishment.

Now the smudgepot has been refined, the ground is lighter, the fallen oranges are a bit more visible, and there are two more smudgepots in the far distance, too small to see in this photo.

All that remains is a wind machine.

Maybe.

This is representative of Tulare County’s best features, according to me. The weird part is that I compiled the original pencil drawing using photos taken in Lemon Cove and Pauma Valley (in Sandy Eggo County.) I’m not showing you the pencil drawing again in case you are going to tell me all the ways I didn’t match it exactly.

Thinking About Water and Feeling Reckless

Because it is raining while I write this, I am thinking about water. A few years ago, we had a very wet winter after several dry ones, and I became obsessed with watching flowing water.

Here are some of the results. I was quite pleased with the drawings and pretty proud of the titles too. (There were more, but they sold.)

Every Drop, matted and framed, 15×17”, $400
Life Source, 9×12”, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Rock and Roll 2, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Turbulent Times, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Frozen and Flowing, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Liquid Fury, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Steady Stream, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250
Wet and Wild, graphite on archival paper, unframed, $250

All the unframed pieces are 9×12”.

I’ve had these too long, and this is a slow month. So, for the rest of the month of March, THESE ARE NOW ALL HALF-PRICE! (half of what is written beneath each one here on the blog) See? Reckless.

(Oh hush up, snobby Art World who says art should never be discounted! I’m in Tulare County, and I’m the boss of my art.)

They aren’t on my website, so you’ll have to talk to me in person, text me at five-five-nine-561-7606, or email me at cabinart-at-cabinart-dot-net (both written this way so the cyberjerks don’t mess with me.)

Yes, there will be sales tax.

If they don’t sell, I might just shred them. Ooh, feeling really really reckless!

“Reckless” is a weird word. If one is feeling reckless, one might not remain wreckless.

Tulare County’s Best

Whenever I have a show, no matter how many pieces sell, I bring home the rest and wonder why they didn’t sell. Then I think about the ones I’ve had the longest, pieces that I have improved on each time I show them again. How can I make these pieces better?

I did this scene as an 8×10 to test it out. It was the beginning of my phase of painting orange groves with hills and snow-covered mountains, which coincided with my beginning forays into plein air painting. This type of scene embodies the best parts of Tulare County—rural, citrus, foothills, snowy Sierra.

Tulare County’s Best, 8×10″

It was fun, but of the quality that caused my dearest and closest (and most honest) folks to ask if I was finished with it. So, I touched it up again, and it Is better. But it still hasn’t sold.

Tulare County’s Best, 8×10″

In spite of this little painting’s lack of success, I still love this scene. I painted it again, this time 24×24″. (Sometimes I actually do paint what I love instead of just what I think might sell.)

Tulare County’s Best II, 24×24″, NFS*

Now we’re cooking with gas! Brighter colors this time, because as I develop my skills and “voice” as a painter, I gain more freedom to exaggerate and embellish (but within reason, because I am still a leading citizen of Realville).

Three shows in good galleries (well, come on, I know this is Tulare County, so they are non-profit galleries rather than big city pushy money-hungry galleries) and it hasn’t found a home.

Think, think, think, AHA!

First, let’s try a little better living with technology, and tiptoe into the AHA. Using Photoshop Junior, I combined Tulare County’s Best II with a detail from a more recent painting of the same genre.

What do you think now? (almost said, “How do you like them apples?”)

Yeppers, Tulare County’s Best will get even better.

*NFS means Not For Sale, because it isn’t finished yet.

Navels in the Orchard

Navels in the Orchard is actually just navels on canvas, another oil painting of Tulare County citrus.

I painted the details working from the back to the front, which means first I painted the items which are the farthest away from the viewer.

Usually I wait until the painting is dry to photograph it. But look at the weather —the sun wasn’t shining, making the wet parts sparkle.

RAIN! (No lightning, please)
Navels in the Orchard, 10×10″, $200

While I Was Getting Gas

At The Four-Way, right next to the Chevron station, there is a classic red barn with an enormous Valley oak tree, quercus lobata. It’s just part of the landscape, and one day while I was getting gas, I realized that this barn could just tumble, or the excess pavement near the tree could prevent it from getting the water it requires and BOOM, gone-zo. So, I took a photo to paint from, realizing there would need to be some severe editing and a liberal application of artistic license.

I started painting it one morning when I was a bit short on time but eager to get rolling. A friend stopped by to visit and kept me company while I started. I felt pretty optimistic about the painting by the end of the session.

Then I looked at this photo and realized the barn’s proportions were completely whackadoodle. So, I erased the worst parts.

Then I drew them in correctly. (How/why did I skip this step initially?? Never mind about having a friend hanging out. . . I used to be able to talk and draw.)

Back on track. . .

I realized that the orange trees needed to be different shades of green from the oak, so I mixed new greens and fixed up that grove.

Then I started working on the tree.

There was too much sky, and it needed hills and mountains.

Those clumps of leaves seemed to take forever.

It was a good day painting, and when I finished, I sat across from it with my critical hat on (metaphorically speaking because I wasn’t actually wearing a hat), I made a list of about 10 things to correct or add.

Want to see the photo that I snapped while I was getting gas?

You can see that severe editing was required to turn it back into a real countrified scene. And you can probably see about 90 things that I can do to make it be a better painting.

Ad-libbing, Guessing, Winging It

On my first day back at trying to be fully human, I resumed detailing this piece. This Mineral King painting was a big challenge on many levels, and I am now quite happy with it.

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Cabins below Timber Gap and Empire.

Feeling accomplished, I chose the next painting to work on, thinking it would be a piece of cake. This is a scene I have admired for decades and photographed it many times. It often looks great when I am driving back to Three Rivers (it doesn’t show on the way down the hill unless I do the Linda Blair head-twist, and no, I didn’t see the movie) There is no turnout, so it gets shot through the windshield. Very few of the photos are worthy, so it will require lots of ad libbing.

With a good start on my first 8×16, I started the next one, also a drive-by shot, that will also require some ad libbing.

I know that I might have more paintings of orange groves with mountains than there will be interested parties. But then again, maybe not. Guessing, speculating, and winging it are all part of the business of art. Apparently, so is ad-libbing. In ArtSpeak, it is called “artistic license”.