There I am, heroically affixing the last tack to the seventh panel, while Jer takes the photo in panic, hoping I won’t fall off the ladder. It’s only a two step step-stool, and has a nice handle to lean one’s knees on, but this is not a position my vestibular system is fond of. On the other hand, Jer was not eager to paint his bald pate (buzzcut #2) to the dangers of wet oil paint. So I tacked and he handed me the hammer and took the photo of the last bang.
Note the bottom of the panel in this photo. And then remember it as I show you what the panels looked like toward the end of today:
Linen panel #1, 2, & 3, November 17
Linen Panels 2, 3, and 4, November 17, 2009
Linen Panels 5, 6, & 7, November 17 2009
The panel on the right is the one I was tacking up in the first photo. As it seems to now be well in hand, I think that it’s possible that I will be able to accomplish my mission — not that she painted well, but that she painted it at all — that’s the goal.
Raising the panels really put their centers near my eye level (a bit too low for Jer) and improved the way they looked, even before I got the bottoms worked up a bit. Working the bottoms felt easy, compared to what I’ve been doing, perhaps because I know a bit more about working linen. Do you know there is no advice about painting on linen canvas to be found on the web, aside from the need to gesso it and the fact that it’s nice strong stuff? I think I might have been as happy with cotton canvas, clear gessoed, but hind-sight is easy to come by.
I’m also using real paints and, as I reported earlier, that makes a big difference. So I came home this evening feeling like I could really actually do what I set out to do. And while it might not be a masterpiece (it certainly isn’t now), I will have scratched the itch to paint big quite well.
No desert photos this evening. And tomorrow, I’m going to paint in town, a bit of plein air just to change the scene. Also the furnace company is supposed to come by, so Jer will be sure to be here to let them in. Nevada is definitely warmer than Portland, but not that much warmer. I’m hoping the wind doesn’t blow too hard to keep the boards on the easel. And to keep my ears warm from the sun.
Reporting from Beatty, Nevada, replete with oil paint and mac and cheese, and content.
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