Painted on location on Coronado. One of those hot, still mornings just before a Santa Ana wind started.
I painted this about a year ago, on top of a pile of dirt that looked like a construction site but wasn’t. I’m curious if they ever built anything there. Great views, smells like the airport, I imagine the real estate listing would not say.
My studio view, looking west over the towers of downtown. (I also have a north facing window in my studio.)
So I wanted to paint this one because it seemed a little less typical than sundown in a pretty countryside and I liked the weird backlighting on the skyscrapers.
Looking over downtown from my studio window. Painted around this time last year.
Great views from this park- I love the crisscrossing freeways and the skyscrapers.
Painted from a bench outside the Ferry Building on the San Francisco Embarcadero.
From the crest of Russian Hill, in search of the perfect view of the Transamerica Pyramid.
I mountaineered down steep- to put it mildly- streets and steps until finding a cool park shaded by huge old umbrella pines. That’s where I found my perfect view of the skyscrapers of the Financial District.
I also found some mossy benches leaning at drunken, uncomfortable angles. I shoved my bag and jacket under myself, trying to get fairly level to paint.
That’s when I felt it: the shaking. My cup of water tumbled off my lap and spilled on the bricks of the sidewalk. Earthquake?
Not at all. The shaking was uncontrollable leg spasms. My wimpy muscles, apparently, are not adequately up to the challenge of San Francisco vertical- street-climbing.
How did I arrive in this sorry state?
Evil French tourists!
After climbing the lower part of the Himalayan slopes of Hyde Street, and getting tired, hot, and lazy, I thought, whatever, I’ll take a cable car. So I found a stop and then the cable car arrived. I was happy. No more lugging a bag of painting supplies up these hills.
I flagged down the cable car. The conductor waved. “4 people only!” he shouted. As I prepared to get on the car, a nimble French family sprinted in front of me and got on the car instead! A father, a mother, a daughter and a son with a camera. 4 people. There was no room for me. This was an evil act.
I shook my fists at them in impotent rage and just walked up the damn hill instead. And then I underwent a physical collapse. Eventually I finished the painting and went to a bar and had whiskey. The End.
Downtown in San Diego, the trains run along the waterfront. When a long freight train is passing, you have time to paint a quick watercolor. 15 minutes? Something like that.
At sunset, I met a pedicab driver who used to be a lawyer. In a couple of weeks, Comic Con will descend on this street, and it will be mayhem. Fun mayhem.