Home or close to it

I was inaccurate when I said this was the field my grandparents owned.  It is actually over the baranca to the west of where they farmed,  but it still seems like home to me.  I am happy with the finished painting. Got a good review from Nate, so I am feeling good.

From Pittsburgh to here

I started this painting several weeks ago, and it will take me awhile to finish, but since I was thinking about my grandparents last night it seemed appropriate to put up these images of what was once their farm.  I surely do enjoy painting South Mountain.

My own museum exhibit

Last night we went to the opening of a new exhibit at the Ag Museum.  The exhibit featured early settlers in the county who became involved in agriculture.  So in honor of that exhibit I am featuring my own wall of photographs of the Lindsay family.

This first image is of my grandmother Erma Bennett Lindsay with her stepson Arthur and daughter Susan, and my dad, John, the cute little baby.  This photo was taken in Pittsburgh, where my grandfather had been a building contractor and Emma a school teacher.  Grandfather's first wife, Anna, had died and he and Erma were married in 1915.  In 1921 they left Pittsburgh to come to Santa Paula.  I know that grandpa had a cousin already living in Santa Paula, C.J. Lindsay, who has a short lane named after him on the west side of town.  I am assuming that C.J. encouraged my grandfather to make the trip west.  

We have Erma's diaries that document her daily life from the time of the trip west for several years.  So I could easily tell you the price of gasoline, or eggs, or who was ill, how the church service was... but the journals are at mom's in Utah.  But the thing I can't tell you is WHY they moved west.  I can guess that it was for economic reasons, but I do wish there was someone I could ask.  

I know that grandpa built homes and churches in Pittsburgh.  He built several homes here in Santa Paula and a little cottage on the beach at Solimar for his daughter Alice.  My dad learned to build as well, and my memories include many additions to our home on the ranch, doll houses, toy mailboxes, high jump standards...if you could imagine it, dad could build it.

So they came from the city, to Santa Paula, and settled on the west side of town, with a view of South Mountain.  Almost every photo of my dad from those early years shows his bare feet.

The three younger children grew up on the ranch, a childhood before the concerns for safety around machinery.  When one of the best playgrounds was an irrigation ditch.  

Uncle Donald

The exhibit at the museum  made me wonder about the "why" of my family's migration.  I have no one left to ask the question.  I can't help but wonder about how different my dad's life would have been on the streets of Pittsburgh instead of in the orange groves of Santa Paula.  

It's not a flashy exhibit, but it got me thinking.  And you? What brought your family to where you are living now?  If you don't know, ask.

Our town

I have written about my feelings for our town before and I will probably do it again.  I keep wondering if I am alone in realizing what a blessing it is to live in one of the few remaining small towns in southern California.

I have had 3 pieces accepted into a show at the Santa Paula Art Museum titled, "Then and Now". I was interviewed about the show by a reporter for the  Ventura County Star  and that same day was visited by a young photographer, Juan Carlo.  I was kind of upset with Juan because of the photo he included with the story in the paper, I don't think I am vain, but that photo added at least 20 years to my age, I have never seen so many wrinkles!  Instead of holding a grudge I should be thanking Juan, but not for the photo.

While Juan was at the studio he looked at the paintings I was considering entering in the show and kept saying, "but they are all trees, does everyone in Santa Paula paint trees?"  And then he looked at the paintings on the wall of the studio and complemented me on several--images of my dad, some workers, a bag of onions.  After he left I went to work.  I decided to get out of the "tree" rut and paint something entirely different for the show, and for myself.

 So this is one of my entries in the "Then and Now" show.  I titled it "Watching Our Town."  To me it is a woman, dressed for a holiday, looking forward to what is to come down the street.  I love the open   chair beside her, has she lost someone, or is she waiting for a friend?   I have known so many good women like her in Santa Paula, women who spent a lifetime helping to make OUR TOWN  a wonderful place to live, it seems appropriate that she is dressed for success!

Thanks, Juan, for the kick in the pants, but if there is a next time, please photoshop out my wrinkles.

Tides, the moon and my work schedule

I was just thinking about the ebb and flow of my work and wondering if I could relate the amount of work I do to the phases of the moon.  Seriously, I realized today that I have periods of consistent work and progress followed by the need to do something else ( update the website, learn something new, read a novel) and then another period of work comes.  Sometimes when I am in the "something else" phase I wonder if I will ever get back to work, but so far I seem to return to the easel.

Sometimes it is encouragement from friends that gets me going again.  Several months ago it was suggested by one such friend that we visit the top of South Mountain for a view across the Santa Clara River valley.  It took quite awhile to arrange the trip, but the friend was persistent and four of us made it to the top one beautiful afternoon.  

Many years ago this fellow's mother had done a wonderful painting of South Mountain from Foothill Road.  He thought that it would be nice to have a painting looking back across the valley.  It was a wonderful afternoon (and would have been even better if we had taken some food).  But as we looked across the valley I wasn't sure I could create a painting of what I was seeing. Having both grown up in the valley it was fun to point out the places that still exist and those that are only part of our memories (like the dairy).  We all took lots of pictures and headed home.

Weeks later I started on a painting and months later finished it.  

I struggled with the foreground, putting weeds in and taking them out.  Finally I decided to just leave a few, to just stop the eye for a moment but not disrupt the flow of the river around that wonderful bend I never knew existed.

My friend took it home the other night to hang on his wall.  

The tide seems to be going out and I need to read a book.

#18 & #19

There is a great article in the new National Geographic about twins.  It is facinating reading, but for one who has been working on portraits it was even more interesting to look at the portraits.  Looking at the subtle differences between the identical twins felt like looking at the differences between one of my portraits and the person I am trying to paint.  Honestly, after looking at all the twins I started to think that maybe I have been painting my subjects' unseen twins.  It also may help me treat myself a bit more kindly, because if the same DNA can't produce two people with the same exact features, how can I expect my brush and some oil paint to capture the exact likeness of a person.

I had fun this week with two young friends.

He sat first and had to work hard to not smile.

Then while I painted her, he walked all around Tisa's patio taking photos!

I was happy with this start

I'm happy with this, but it doesn't capture his great personality

This beginning was just awful

So I just kept struggling

Finally today I feel pretty good about this!

Christmas past

I was putting away my nativity scene yesterday.  I love getting it out and putting it away, it gives me a chance to look at and hold each piece.  This year I put it on the shelf below Susan Cook's wonderful painting of the ranch.  The colors in the painting and the colors on the figures were wonderful together, and I think the palm trees provided a great background.  The pine trees were all made by my dad, on an old lathe in his shop in Gunlock.  I noticed this year that several of the delicate tips have been broken, I hope he knows the damage just came from loving use.  I especially love the tree with the brown trunk. 

 Dad made a lot of the trees, and gave them away to family and friends when they admired them.
They make the scene uniquely ours.

What a magical set of people and animals.
What a part of my Christmas these figures are.

 The stable was also made by Dad, with a small shelf for the owl to perch on.

The oldest of my pieces are 48 years old.  On my 13th birthday my parents and brother gave me Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus, and our friends Ruth and Dana gave me a king and his helper.

I'm sure it was Ruth who gave my parents the idea to start a set for me because Ruth had a set of her own made by the same woman in Germany.

  Over the years, for birthdays and Christmas I was given more pieces.  Each in a little decorative paper bag with a drawstring.  Only one paper bag remains, they became softer and softer and finally wore out. But the figures have survived being arranged by all three of the kids and now the grandsons.  My Uncle Clark used them as inspiration for a set of his own and carved animals for my children as well.  Only wonderful memories come to me when I look at these figures.  Only wonderful.