I was the kid who always asked to have class outside anytime there was a hint of sun and warmth. (It rarely worked out in my favour.)
Happily, that tendency remains. Painting outdoors has its challenges - my easel has crashed to the ground with a sudden gust, I’ve done the sweaty mosquito dance, and I’ve even forgotten my paintbrushes and chewed up a stick to paint with.
But there’s no better way I know of to become a better artist. There’s something about being out there that infuses your bones and spirit, and seeps out back in the studio.
That’s why, when I skied into Skoki Lodge this year, I carried a tripod and oil paints. SO HEAVY skiing up over Deception Pass and flailing my way down, falling in the deep snow, but worth it.
Before the trip, I worried the tripod would sink. And I was right to worry - when I got to this painting spot, I took off my skis… and immediately plunged hip-deep into the snow! So I crawled up out of the sinkhole, brushed the snow out of my boots and bindings, and painted wearing my skis.
Meanwhile, my tripod was sitting pretty with her snowshoes (re-purposed yogurt tubs I’d hastily scrounged just before leaving the house).
The tripod snowshoes worked! And it was a warm, windless, peaceful afternoon. I think this oil sketch captures the spirit of the day - and if I do make a studio painting from the photos I took, the sketch will provide valuable information - colours the camera doesn’t see.
The snow conditions were perfect for my light touring style of ski - a layer of fluffy snow on top of a crust meant it was even possible to skate-ski across this meadow.
The best thing about being a landscape painter, to me, is… searching for beauty outside is a defining characteristic of the job. That’s where it all starts, that is the source.
