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This past spring a consultant at my gallery in the desert, Jones and Terwilliger, called to say that some collectors had seen my work and were inquiring about my doing a commission for their new home in Palm Desert,  California. 

 

I’d be delighted. Tell me more! They had in mind a desert landscape done in oil paint along the lines of a pastel on view at the gallery, though much larger. The size would be between six and eight feet long! Probably three feet high: a long panorama. I love this format, as it’s the way we often view the natural world around us. This would be the biggest painting I’d ever done. 

 

Using the suggestions for changes they’d like to the original pastel, I did a small pastel with proportions equal to three by seven and a half feet long, halfway between the shortest and longest possibilities. I sent this off to them to personally look over. They loved the sketch and said to proceed. The gallery worked with them on the price and conditions for the commission. In the end they decided on the longest size, three by eight feet.

 

Initial sketch in pastel, 6 x 15 inches

 

I had to investigate craftsmen in the area to find someone who could construct a sturdy framework for the canvas. In the end I found Lance Pierson (Pierson Fine Art Services) who persuaded me to order double oil primed linen. The cost was close to $500! I did not want to scrimp on a commission of this size and quality. It would be ready in two weeks, and just fit in my minivan.

 

The stretched linen and support was a work of art in itself.  All wood joined and mitered, square edges rounded off. How exciting to begin a painting on such a splendid surface! The weave is finer than I’m used to working on, and as the layers of paint built up, the surface became delightfully smooth and seemingly tough. It looked smooth and glossy, like something I see in museums. 

 

Linen is toned a rich, warm orange, then thin washes of color, the sky a pale orange

 

As my work progressed, we kept the collectors aware of my progress via digital photos. I also took phone photos for my own use, to check for problems, color inconsistencies, etc. It’s surprising how different my camera reads color and light than does the iPhone. I didn’t want them to see the image in too raw a state.  It takes a very informed collector or another artist to know where a work is going from those thin, sloppy, washy underpainting layers. Often I use very vibrant colors in my early stages to add some excitement to later, more tame, surfaces.

 

Testing colors over the whole surface

I worked on the commission in spurts. Not long gaps in between sessions, but a definite distancing from the giant image on a regular basis. This is really the only way I can work on a major painting, giving myself some time to forget what I’ve most recently done and to be able to see the whole afresh. I had asked the gallery consultant to inform the collectors that the process could easily take three months. Unbeknownst to me, he never said anything to them about time and they never asked. Luckily, they were kept informed and excited by the frequent photos sent to them.

 

Something I loved in the initial pastel sketch I submitted was the feeling of early morning, obvious by the orange glow in the sky and the rich warm tones on the nearby hills and the snow-capped peaks. Surprise! We got an email saying that a lot of orange just wouldn’t work in their desert home. Uhhh, but… in the sketch you accepted…. 

 

Cool greens and lavenders make a big difference in the foreground; deeper shadows, rich blues in the mid ground; mid ground ridge dropped quite a bit

When doing commissions an artist learns to smile and say, “Of course I can do that.” That’s why collectors pay a premium for the privilege of having their preferences strongly influence the finished work of art. And why some artists refuse to do commissions!

 

So, the time of day drifted an hour or so later, the near-glowing orange hills got enrobed with a thin layer of green and the far mountains and snow-capped peaks tended more towards rose and tan.

 

Much deeper shadows in palms, testing a path, punching sky holes into palms

 

Soon the couple announced that over the Memorial Day weekend they planned to be in the Wine Country and would be delighted to see their painting in person. Yipes! Several days of intense painting ensued before their visit. Also a thorough cleaning of the studio was called for. It’s impossible to keep a country studio clean when students regularly attend workshops and where soft pastels are used to create paintings.

 

Big sigh of relief! The collectors loved the painting and had but a few requests. The path and many major lines led the eye to… a big blank area. No drama in the focal point. I thought that a very astute observation. It’s true. The sketch just had a hazy midground with little activity.  I’d added a path to lead the eye further into the scene. But to what?

 

Detail added to palms, desert floor in bloom, variety of colors added; shapes redone on grouping of palms; green blanketing mid ground orange hill; test of birds in sunshine does not work

Sky repainted yet again, probably four times, as poor color matching left patches visible; mid ground palms added as focal point on ridge that’s been brought much closer; mid ground hills roughened up and detail added

 

Also I’d used a similar shade of pink on all the rock tops and on the soil of the path. Not to their taste. I asked if I might add some birds. An earlier trial of sunlit birds had been too attention grabbing so I’d wiped them out. However, maybe some dark birds hidden behind the palms on the left? Sure! All were easy changes to make, though it took me days to get back to the work. So close to the end, what if I mess it up? What if they don’t like…? What if…? I was urged to finish by the gallery. Oh, all right!

 

Finished! Living Desert Morning, oil, 36 x 96"

 

We received the best response possible, “When will it be shipped?” Yes!  

I’m happy to say that I’m not responsible for either shipping or framing. I’ve found a reliable shipper that will come pick the painting up, crate it and safely get it to its destination. 

 

Now the challenge is to let go.  What a showstopper the canvas has been in my studio. Everyone who’s visited over the months has been stunned.

 

I love the feeling of completion. However, it’s also a bit like letting a child go out into the world. You’ve done all you can for it. You’ve coddled it, nurtured it, used tough love on it when necessary. What more can you do? Time for it to stand on its own merits. 

 

What a process, from idea to sketch to evolving work of art to completion. And is it ever really done? No, I see all sorts of little changes I’d love to make. However, I’m strongly urged by the gallery associate to leave it alone!