Linda Mitchell

The paintings I'm posting in this section are all very small and done in a short period of time - almost like daily warm-up exercises or sketches. The prices will all be between $50 and $100 and I plan to post a new painting each day. E-mail me at linda703@sbcglobal.net (or post a comment) if you're interested in purchasing one, and we'll work out the details.

"Green Boats" 5" x 8" oil on board $75.

I painted this one from Woodley Island, looking back toward Eureka. I painted there a couple of weeks ago with two friends, on what turned out to be a day with record heat -- it was around 80º, a veritible heat wave for the North Coast.

"Indian Island" 4"x10" oil on board $50.

I painted this one on the same day, from Woodley Island, looking over the bay toward Indian Island. These trees are more than 100 years old and teeming with our snowy white egrets in the mornings and afternoons.

"Blue Boat" 10" x 10" $90.

This is another one from Woodley Island, on a different day, with the pulp mill in the background.

ON-LINE STUDIO SALE

So, here’s the deal: My studio is stuffed to the rafters with paintings and my bank account is empty. It’s time to have a studio sale.

For years I participated in the annual Northcoast Open Studios, but the event conflicted with my grandbaby’s birthday, so I quit doing it after she was born. The only studio sale I’ve had in the past five years was the one Micki Flatmo and I did two years ago, to raise funds for our painting trip to Paris. That sale was wildly successful, for both of us, but it took a lot of prep.

The studio is in a converted garage behind my house, so when I open my work space to the public, I have to clean up the house and garden as well as the studio. I make food, play hostess, and work as a sales rep and clerical person. I can throw a great art party with the best of them, but I’d just as soon spend the time trying something different – something I’ve been meaning to do anyway.

For this studio sale, I’ve decided to conduct it online, via this blog. What the heck? I’ll be posting sale items in my “Studio Sale” folder and leaving them up until they sell. The image will include size, title and description, with both the original and sale price. Check it out from time to time, since I’ll be updating the folder regularly.

All the paintings are framed with a 3/8" pine strip frame. If you're interested in purchasing something, email me at linda703@sbcglobal.net, and we can work out the details.

SALE PAINTINGS

"Becky Napping" 8" x 10" oil on panel
I painted this one last Spring, on an annual painting trip I take with a group of women friends up to the Mad River.
Original price: $300 Sale Price $125.

"Three Boats on the Mad River" 12" x 24" oil on canvas
Original price: $700. Sale price: $300.

"Summer Palace, Beijing" 16" x 20" oil on canvas
This is an image from a trip I took to China with friends in 2005.
Original Price: $500 Sale Price:$200

"Woodley Island Heron" oil on board 8" x 10"
Original Price: $250. SALE PRICE: $80.

I painted this one in 2005 on Woodley Island, on one of those exhilarating Humboldt County days where the weather changes every 15 minutes – sunny, cloudy, rainy, back to sun. The heron posed for me for a good hour, before wandering off in search of dinner. On this day, I was painting with Micki Flatmo and our friend Amy Stewart joined us, along with her mom, who was visiting from Santa Rosa.

"Pink Lilies" oil on canvas 8" x 10"
Original Price: $325. SALE PRICE: $85.

This was painted in my studio in 2005, from flowers Bill gave me for Mother's Day.

"Pulp Mill at Sunset" oil on board 5.5" x 14"
Original Price: $325. SALE PRICE: $90.

I painted this one last year, when I was working on a series of paintings featuring the pulp mill, a structure I endlessly fascinating for some reason.

"Garden Path" oil on board 4.5" x 8"
Original price: $200. SALE PRICE $60.

"Garden Detail" oil on canvas 5" x 7"
Original price: $200. SALE PRICE $50. SOLD

"Ranch Kitchen" oil on canvas 10" x 10"
Original price: $325. SALE PRICE $90.

"Grand Reopening, Eureka Books" oil on canvas

April 6, 2008
An Arts Alive opening with no sales. Okay, one sale, but that was a painting of Liz’s newest grandbaby, so she was practically obligated to buy it. The rest of the paintings – representing the past four months of my life – hung forlornly on the gallery walls throughout the three-hour opening, devoid of the little red stickers that would have signified they’d be going home with someone new.

Instead, the majority of the paintings will most likely return to my drafty old studio at the end of the month. How does that make them feel? Probably like adult children who are forced to move back home with mom and dad, victims of “troubled times.” Plus, I’ll undoubtedly keep working on some of them, humiliating them even further. So now I’m not good enough? You thought I was fine and dandy when you hung me up in the gallery. Put down the brush. Now back away.

You’d think I’d give it up. This painting nonsense. In addition to the new work at the gallery, there are more than a hundred paintings in my studio, choking out my work space, mutely reminding me of what a precarious profession I’ve chosen. And the stack of bills on the sideboard isn't shrinking.

When I work on a show, I try to put marketing issues out of my mind. I didn’t paint Zach, Liz’s grandbaby, because I figured she’d buy the painting. I painted him because I saw him playing alone, at a party swarming with children. He was sitting on his knees behind an armchair in Liz’s living room on Easter Sunday, bathed in the most exquisite light, all by himself, reaching for a blue-clad baby doll. I painted him on one of those small masonite boards they sell at Michael’s for a couple of bucks, and charged $300 for the painting, which sounds like a nice profit, if you ignore the expense of the rest of the show. And my time and whatnot. But time, like marketability, are realities I tend to ignore when I’m working.

"Zach" oil on board

“It’s not the work,” said Bill, my husband. “It’s the economy. Art’s a luxury. Who needs it? Let’s shut the whole thing down. We could sell everything and hit the road with an Airstream trailer.” Whatever. It’s the same old song and dance, every month the gallery has a bleak Arts Alive opening. When the tables are turned, and a show generates high sales, he’s right back in the saddle.

Just a year ago, I had a joint show with my friend Micki Flatmo, another painter, and we sold more than 20 paintings at the opening alone. Same gallery, same walls. It was the work from our painting trip to Paris, which turned out to be very popular subject matter. Still, my current show - Eureka interiors - should have garnered local interest. Lots of people showed up, but ... well, there’s no use belaboring the point.

"Cafe Waterfront" oil on board

April 7, 2008

It was Curtis Otto who ultimately made me feel better. Curtis lives across the street from me, in a salmon-colored stucco house. I was on the couch the day after the opening, feeling blue, when I saw him walk out his front door. He stood on the stoop with his hands on his bony old hips and squinted up at the sky. There were black, threatening clouds directly overhead, but he started dragging his paintings out of his house and onto the wet grass anyway, leaning the canvases against overgrown bushes and hanging them from that life-sized pink ceramic tree, the one Dominic crafted decades ago, before he moved to Thailand.

Curtis propped a small square canvas on the stoop and started stabbing away at it with one of his crappy brushes. It looked (from my position on the couch) like the painting featured apples, but they could have been tomatoes. He was wearing his khaki Bermuda shorts and paint-splattered hiking boots. If it were summer, he’d be painting without his shirt. The thought made me smile. Curtis. He’s in his mid-eighties and has had more career disapointments than anybody I know, but nothing makes a dent in his passion for painting.

Tomorrow I’ll probably be back in the studio. Like Curtis, I can’t help myself.

"Sabrett's oil on panel

This image was taken from the top of one of those double-decker tourist buses, somewhere in Manhattan. It was late in the day, but at least 90º and muggy, even though it was well into October. I found the vantage point from the bus very interesting, with all those foreshortened elements. I'd like to work more on that idea - maybe get up in some buildings or on roofs and look for more dramatic compositions.

We were on the blue rather than the red bus – or was it the other way around? – anyway, this particular tour was a few bucks cheaper and it was leaving immediately. We were all eager to get off our achy feet at the end of that long, hot day, so we jumped on the bus just before it pulled away.

The tour director was this wiry little man who looked like he'd just tumbled out of a bed at the local homeless shelter. He told corny jokes that had nothing to do with New York while the bus whizzed by notable landmarks. Occasionally, he'd point something out, in between punch lines. "Oh, yeah, over there – that's the Art Student's League. It's been around since – I dunno. A really long time. Speaking of long times..."

Still, we were off our feet. And the perspective was interesting.

"
Sunset from Woodley Island" oil on linen

I painted this one in July, at the end of a very productive day on Woodley Island. I started painting just after sunrise and worked until right before the sun went down. That made for a very long day, considering the season, but I got three pretty good paintings. My plan was to study different light effects on the bay, based on the time of day. The most interesting light (not surprisingly) was early morning and late afternoon, but I got a decent mid-day painting, too.

I was standing on one of the docks when I painted this, and at that time of day there was a fair amount of foot traffic. About an hour into the painting, I started feeling woozy from the motion, so I took photos and finished the painting the next day in the studio.