For Artists Who Love the Outdoors

Many artists who have written about it say that painting en plein air makes them better artists. I would agree, but they seldom go on to say why it makes them better or how it makes them better painters. I thought I might explore that very topic with you in this blog:

a) Why would painting outdoors make me a better painter and 

b) How does painting outdoors and on site make me a more proficient painter?

One good place for me to begin is with the Group of Seven, a collection of Toronto painters who, in the first two decades of the 20th century, transformed Canadian art. They did this in two ways: they sought out the harsh, rugged landscape they were painting, and they tried to breathe into their work something of the vital energy they found there. But their approach was not limited or limiting; they found value in work coming from France, Norway, Germany and the USA, and incorporated these ideas into their own work. And they invented where they needed some new bridge to understanding the wilds of the northern Ontario landscape.

Painting en plein air does this to me. It forces me to rethink what I know about painting, because what I am trying to express, the feeling I want to capture, is all around me. I can't withdraw and think about it. I am forced to take everything into account in the instant. Some artists have called it liberating, and I suspect they are right. It is energizing, no question. I have one opportunity to get this down, and all my choices need to be made on the instant. 

That's one element. Another, equally demanding, is that it is a public event. The minute I set up my pochade and get out my brushes, I attract a following. People come by to see what I'm doing, in a way no one would if I were taking a photograph. If anyone ever questioned the public's interest in art. let them take out paints and brush and set up camp before a spot of natural attraction, and they will find just how much interest the public has in the process of painting. I have learned over this last year to accept this, and live with it. I don't encourage public attention but I don't discourage it either. It is, I think, a part of being an artist. Someone is always looking over your shoulder, and asking questions while you paint. This, too, I feel makes me a better painter.

Lastly, there is the factor of time. I look at the watercolours of John Singer Sargent, John Pike, and other fine painters of the last century, and I see how quickly they worked, how their work showed a focus, an precision, and a speed which captured the moment so accurately. Painting en plein air in the heat of the sun or the swift approach of evening means making your strokes count, working quickly, attentively, precisely. It also means using calligraphic strokes to imply much. I find that I am more conscious of the need to suggest, rather than to detail; to imply rather than to state. I think that this may be the one gift that plein air painting is giving me.

If you haven't yet taken your paint kit out in the field, I encourage you to do so. It is both invigorating and frustrating. I have spent a number of days working hard in the outdoors only to come up empty-handed. But I also have come up with some good pieces, which somehow represent all that I was hoping they would.  I am certain this will be your experience as well.