Cityscapes
Stapletons Florist Shop
I went on location one morning in 1996 to begin a painting of a colorful florist shop in Palo Alto. I placed my easel off the sidewalk, down in the gutter, in order to keep out of the way of workmen who were remodeling the store behind me. It turned out to be a protected location behind the bumper of a parked panel truck.
I proceeded to work the canvas. After an hour, a man driving by, stopped his car and commanded, " Say Lady, read that truck!" He pointed to the rear of the paneled truck at my elbow. I turned my head and read "B & L Painting, Painting Contractors' in big six inch letters painted on the rear doors of the truck.
The observant driver then added, "I saw that, and then saw you standing there painting and I thought, My God, she's got her own truck". We both grinned.
I proceeded to work the canvas. After an hour, a man driving by, stopped his car and commanded, " Say Lady, read that truck!" He pointed to the rear of the paneled truck at my elbow. I turned my head and read "B & L Painting, Painting Contractors' in big six inch letters painted on the rear doors of the truck.
The observant driver then added, "I saw that, and then saw you standing there painting and I thought, My God, she's got her own truck". We both grinned.
Downtown Vacant Lot
It was another morning to paint on Main Street. A demolished building had been extracted between two old buildings leaving a gap like that of a missing tooth. Advertisements, painted on the scarred brick walls of the adjacent buildings, were suddenly revealed. I stepped around the broken bricks and litter onto the empty lot, placed my easel in the shade of the building on the right and began painting a picture of the aged, brick wall.
It was a private place, only ten feet off the sidewalk. I felt quite secure because I was visible to anyone walking by. Shortly before noon, a sturdily built young man, wearing denim and a baseball hat and swaying on a pair of crutches, laboriously jaywalked across the street toward me. His left foot was in a heavy sock. I knew he was going to be my Main Street Friend of the Moment. He moved in close behind me, closer than I preferred, and silently scrutinized the painting.
"What are you painting?" he asked. It is the most frequent inquiry made to a plein air painter. The following question is usually, "How long does it take you to do a picture?" As he exhaled that question over my shoulder, I was immediately enveloped in an bubble of alcohol fumes, and not very good alcohol at that. I know, because I saw the label. As he leaned against the building he reached under his jacket and offered me a drink out of the bottle in his paper bag. I declined and quickly changed the subject to his foot problem.
He was happy to tell me about the bad foot and quickly whipped off his sock and said, "See, I have no toes". He was absolutely correct. There was not one toe on that foot, although it appeared from the scars that there had been toes there at one time. He also told me he was a jail trustee up at the Sheriff's Honor Farm about fifteen miles away up in the hills. He had been given a half-day permit to come down and visit a doctor regarding his foot. He produced the signed Permission Slip from the Honor Farm as if there was a need to prove to me that he was out of jail legitimately. I noticed the handwriting on the bottom of the Permission Slip read, "Come Back Sober", I don't think he made it.
It was a private place, only ten feet off the sidewalk. I felt quite secure because I was visible to anyone walking by. Shortly before noon, a sturdily built young man, wearing denim and a baseball hat and swaying on a pair of crutches, laboriously jaywalked across the street toward me. His left foot was in a heavy sock. I knew he was going to be my Main Street Friend of the Moment. He moved in close behind me, closer than I preferred, and silently scrutinized the painting.
"What are you painting?" he asked. It is the most frequent inquiry made to a plein air painter. The following question is usually, "How long does it take you to do a picture?" As he exhaled that question over my shoulder, I was immediately enveloped in an bubble of alcohol fumes, and not very good alcohol at that. I know, because I saw the label. As he leaned against the building he reached under his jacket and offered me a drink out of the bottle in his paper bag. I declined and quickly changed the subject to his foot problem.
He was happy to tell me about the bad foot and quickly whipped off his sock and said, "See, I have no toes". He was absolutely correct. There was not one toe on that foot, although it appeared from the scars that there had been toes there at one time. He also told me he was a jail trustee up at the Sheriff's Honor Farm about fifteen miles away up in the hills. He had been given a half-day permit to come down and visit a doctor regarding his foot. He produced the signed Permission Slip from the Honor Farm as if there was a need to prove to me that he was out of jail legitimately. I noticed the handwriting on the bottom of the Permission Slip read, "Come Back Sober", I don't think he made it.
McAllister Street San Francisco
These lovely restored Victorian homes are the "Painted Ladies" of San Francisco. This group of charmers live on McAllister Street.
Back Side of Main Street, Redwood City
This is a view of the back side of MAin Street, Redwood City, CA. I was captivated by the false-fronts of the buildings.
Palo Alto Tailors
This tiny Taylor's shop used to be on Lytton street by Kipling in Palo Alto
Railroad Signal Tower
This signal tower was tucked in the shadow of a freeway overpass on the San Francisco Peninsula. A woman was on duty in the tower when I painted on location one late afternoon in 1973. Youngsters coming home from school were walking the rails and indulging in pushing and shoving antics like kids will do. Suddenly, the window sash in the tower flew open, and she yelled, "You kids get outta here!" They scattered quickly. The tower burned down in a fire of unknown origin several years later.
Sequoia Hotel Redwood City
Laguna Street Victorians
The Front Side of Main Street, Redwood City
Terra Cotta Roofscape
Palo Alto Turret
510 Waverly Street in Palo Alto... Painted in 1982 when the trees were much smaller
Laguna Street Victorian
I photographed and sketched these San Francisco Victorian homes in 1952. Their details are always a feast for the eyes.
Bourbon Street at Night
Palo Alto Recording Studio
This Victorian House-turned recording studio used to exist on High Street in Palo Alto
Ramona Street Palo Alto
A charming alcove on Ramona Street in Palo Alto, California.
Quong Lee Laundry
On the East end of Main Street in Redwood City. you can find the pink Quong Lee Laundry building
Elm Street Home
On Elm Street in Redwood City
Bermuda Harbor
For several years I had my oil paintings in a Gallery in Hamilton, Bermuda where the houses all look like pastel-colored sugar cubes with sugar-frosted roofs.
Youngs Pharmacy
The Young's Pharmacy and Stationery building on Broadway in Redwood City, CA
Oak Grove Home
An old Victorian on Oak Grove Avenue in Menlo Park, Ca
Main Street Coffee Shop
A Garden Balcony on Woodside Road in Redwood City, CA
Quong Lee Laundry
On the East end of Main Street in Redwood City. a closer view of the Quong Lee Laundry Building
Sequoia Hotel
Sequoia Hotel