Let me start by saying plein air painting is not my sweet spot.  While I enjoy painting outside and on location, I’m rarely very happy with the results.  I prefer painting in my studio in a more controlled environment.  The lighting is relatively fixed; I have my easel and chair set to my height, all of my supplies are readily at hand, and I don’t have to worry about bugs sticking to my painting.  Whenever I paint outside, I feel like I’m fumbling around a bit, and I almost always feel rushed.  I know I would get more comfortable with practice, but it’s also okay if studio painting is my preference and where I do my best work.

That being said, painting on location does a lot for my artist’s heart.  I love the experience of painting in a place.  Whenever I sketch or paint on location, that moment is preserved in a way other memories aren’t.  I can snap a photo in a split second, but I have to devote at least 15 minutes to capturing a place in a sketchbook.  For a painting, I usually need about an hour.

When I was preparing for the trip, Julia encouraged me to bring my oil paints along.  I wasn’t going to because I knew it would be several pounds of extra weight in my suitcase, and I knew I wasn’t likely to produce anything I was particularly proud of.  But then I thought about the experience of painting in England and Italy, of searing the moment into my mind, and I decided that bringing the paints and all of the gear was worth it.

Our visit to Hidcote presented a perfect opportunity to paint.  (You can read more about Hidcote HERE.)  There were so many picturesque views, visually interesting moments in the garden, and amazing architectural features that it would be easy to find a subject to paint.  After walking all around the house, grounds, and gardens, I decided to paint a field of sheep.  I could sit on the lawn just above a stone wall built into the hillside, and paint the view.

I put on my apron, set up my pochade box and palette, and, after looking around the field for a while, decided to paint a large shade tree with sheep grazing beneath it.  It was a simple subject that would be relatively easy to paint in a short time period.  My mom and Julia went to the cafe for tea and cake while I worked.  They both know me well and knew this time was a gift.

As I painted, sheep meandered closer to me, keeping me company, and a few other tourists quietly walked behind me and peered over my shoulder.

I probably painted for about 45 minutes, but I wasn’t very aware of time.  It seemed to stand still and fly by simultaneously.  It could’ve been ten minutes or two hours.  I lost myself in that field, in that tree, in the slightly gray English sky, and the distant landscape I could barely see over the treetops.

I didn’t have a tripod or a comfortable place to sit, I didn’t have a few brushes I felt I needed, and the strong sunlight caused glare on the glossy oil paint, but I loved every minute of it.

I didn’t produce a painting I loved, but I had an experience I’ll always cherish.

What is valuable, though, is having this sketch as a reference for future paintings I create from the photos I took.  These are the colors I saw with my own eyes, not on a printed photo.  This was the curve of that tree and the shape of the clouds as I observed them on that day.  This was the feeling of that beautiful place, blobby sheep and all.

In another blog post, I’ll tell you about a metal-detection enthusiast who shared some of her favorite finds with me.  When she showed me one spectacular find after another, she took a minute to clarify that most of the time when she goes out metal detecting, she gets skunked.  Her best finds from years of consistent hunting could fit in a small zipper pouch.  She usually finds nails, screws, modern coins, bits of junk metal, nothing interesting or of note.  But she goes out anyway, because there are days, however few and far between, when she unearths something precious.  She calls her excursions “picnics with a purpose.”  She can have a nice lunch and a long walk outside, and any finds worth keeping are a bonus.

Showing up as an artist is very much the same way.  When a finished work is magical, it’s a rare thing.  But you don’t find the worthwhile treasures without finding the seemingly worthless along the way.  You can’t have one without the other.  It’s all in the act of showing up and making the art.  This painting wasn’t a treasure, but the next one might be.

In addition to having a wonderful time touring the Hidcote grounds and doing a bit of plein air painting on a delightful fall day, I took hundreds of photos to use as references for future paintings.  And yes, lots of sheep!

I can’t wait to get to work on some of these back in the comfort of my studio.  Hopefully, one or two will be magical.

You can read more about my time in The Cotswolds here…

Arrival & Burford | “gateway to the Cotswolds”

Bibury, Barnsley, & The Pig

Cirencester, Seasalt Cornwall, and Bourton-on-the-Water

The Thatched Cottage in Chipping Campden

Hidcote Manor | National Trust Home & Garden