Mission Accomplished

There's a lot that is good about painting at Mission San Gabriel. There is the color and texture of old stucco. There are wonderful plants. There is rich local history to ponder as you paint. But here's a curious benefit -- blog hits. Far and away the majority of my blog hits arise from google or bing searches for San Gabriel Mission. Most probably they come from fourth grade children and their parents doing research about California Missions. But in the quest for attention, we'll take whatever we can get. This particular view is of the rebuilt Mission kitchen. I chose the view because of the shadows.

There was a huge group of children at the Mission today, studying not history but photography. I listened to their teacher give them some good hints - that there's some difference between what is nice to look at, and what makes a good photograph. Don't be so discriminating that you end up with no photographs, but don't use your whole disposable camera allotment until you've seen what else there is to photograph. The teacher eventually drew the children's attention to the plein air painter. Apparently the children will be doing plein air painting themselves next week. They have already learned about watercolor. Seems like a wonderful learning experience. I did most of my painting, from start to nearly finish with an audience of nine-year-olds. I and my painting were the subject of many student photographs. I asked to take a picture of them too.

I forgot to bring a pencil with me, so I had to do the painting without a drawing, but I wasn't about to disappoint my crew of photographers, and I think I did all right. The kids said I'm a good artist.

I also saw this flower there. There was a whole tree full of them. I think it's a Brazilian orchid tree.

Good luck, heart & soul

Chinatown in Los Angeles is a good place to spend some time. I painted there on Saturday. I stood outside a store that didn't open until 11; the store had a gong to strike for luck. An older Chinese man helped me set up my easel. I can handle it myself but help was nice. A young man stopped by before I really got started and showed me his sketchbook; it had the most excruciatingly beautiful drawings of books that he wanted to make. I had my picture taken with a man from China, presumably just because I was painting. A woman asked for a restaurant recommendation, and I sent her to Yang Chow. She will never forget me, I think, because it is that good.

There is a piano near where I stood. It is part of the "Play me I'm yours" Los Angeles installation. I was entertained by little kids pounding keys, classical music, classic rock, rockin' boogie woogie, and Heart and Soul about a hundred times. I ran into my sister-in-law; a city of 3.8 million, and only one sister-in-law. I packed up my painting stuff and went shopping for a big straw hat for my kid who's going to Cochella, a messenger bag with a dragon on it, tiger balm, and savory baked pork bao.

I was pretty disappointed with my painting, but it has grown on me. It has kind of a sweet simplicity. So much, perhaps, that someone on facebook thought it was Chinatown of a time longer past. The tall pagoda is Hop Louie, a restaurant. Right out of view is a wishing well where you can choose your fortune with the toss of a coin.

Juxtaposing

I like my buildings old for the most part, but I think I might like an integration of ages and styles most of all. A city like Chicago has a lot of visual energy, and I think that is why. I'm a huge preservationist, but I believe buildings and neighborhoods should be preserved for their uniqueness, rather than their uniformity. This is a picture of two residences adjacent to Vista Hermosa park in Los Angeles. This could be a pretty appealing place to live. Fortunately, I have a place to live (my forever home.) My neighborhood is also a bit of mixed bag - little houses, big houses, mid-century apartment buildings and newer townhomes jumbled together on a tree-shaded street in a corner of town. I read a while ago that certain social behaviors could help you live a long and happy life. One was having friends of all ages. Also periodic glasses of wine.

Foggy Mountain

It wasn't quite raining yesterday morning, but it was awfully damp. I was not willing to skip plein air painting again though. I also realized that if the weather held, I'd be able to call my painting Foggy Mountain, in a sort of homage to recently departed Earl Scruggs. So here. I believe you can see the dampness in the view and on the paper. There are some actual rain spots. I liked some of the effects and played them up with my spray bottle.

This is a California Live Oak at the Cobb Estate in Altadena.

Out of the Rain

You will recall a couple of Saturdays ago it was raining. I had to paint indoors. I wasn't sure I liked what I painted, but now I've lived with them for a couple of weeks and decided they're all right. These are fast little sketches done from some photographs which may or may not one day be larger and more time-consuming paintings. The rooster is one I watched at Heritage Square. L A City Hall with the palm trees is a daily weekday morning sight as I proceed south on Los Angeles Street toward my workplace.

I'm very fond of the City Hall. It reminds me of being a child and watching television that included Superman and Dragnet. It reminds me of riding in my father's car on the way to my grandfather's house or the beach. That's just for starters. I recently noticed how very similar it looks to the Nebraska State Capitol building, built a few years before it, obviously also in the 1920s. Except Nebraska has a dome on the top and we have a pyramid. I cropped the painting extensively, because I made a mess of the sky.

Technology and Nature

I went to paint at Cal Tech today, but I forgot something to paint on. Arguably, one could paint on just about anything, but I didn't. I took some photos and notes and painted later at home. Not before I walked around and took dozens of pictures.
I took quite a few pictures of this beautiful egret that was fishing for food in some pools. It was not bothered by me.

And I was quite enamored with its white feathers and yellow feet.

Then I noticed this big silent bullfrog


Finally, I noticed this: a bit beaten up by a lawnmower,but still a four leaf clover. I didn't pick it. No reason to press my luck.

Dragon

This is part in honor of the year of the dragon, and part an attempt at to paint something taken more from imagination than, say, a real dragon. The form of this dragon is loosely inspired by an old Japanese woodcut. The color is inspired by sun conures (really beautiful little parrots.) I'd like to say more about dragons, but I'm fairly ignorant of the subject. It could use a story.

Changes

Well, the rain kept me from going out and painting today. I did a couple of indoor paintings, but I'm not sure I like them enough to share. Here's something good though. It's my second year (or maybe my third) of monarchs in my yard. I don't think there are more necessarily, but I keep getting better at spotting them - the little eggs on the leaves, the tiniest striped caterpillars, and the places they undergo their very remarkable transformation.

Gamble

Pasadena loves its craftsman homes, probably this one best of all. It was designed outside and inside by Charles and Henry Greene. Charles Greene, I read, wanted to be a watercolor painter, and was disappointed when his father pushed him into architecture. Parents often know best. You can take a tour of the Gamble House and look at some of the most beautiful woodwork ever and hear endlessly about lifting cloud motifs. You can wander freely about the grounds.

Knowing R. J.

This is less postcardish than the last few paintings. This is a view from Bailey Canyon Park in Sierra Madre, looking across Carter and south to the lowlands. I kind of expected to paint trees when I headed up to Bailey Canyon Park, but the ravages of November's winds are still very apparent there. I saw plenty of downed trees and plenty of stumps. There was a lot less shade to be had as well. Challenging painting conditions because of the speed at which the paint dried. I liked the image of the morning sun bathing a roof top with the blue expanse of distance beyond. Since I believe painting is an intimate act, I think I should know something about what I paint. I was able to learn that Bailey Canyon was named for R.J. Bailey, a homesteader who didn't stick around long. Nothing more than that. I don't know who the roof belongs to either.

Here's a treat, and I only wish I could have gotten closer and focused better. This is an acorn woodpecker. There are several that I think live in palm trees to the south of me. They come and get peanuts that I put out in the morning. They've gotten used to me over the past few years and don't seem so shy any more. I think they might be an extended family group; they work cooperatively to chase jays and crows away from the nuts. Hang in there, woodpecker.