Last year I had several workshops where friends signed up together. Usually, it was one of my old friends (also known as students) bringing along someone who would become my new friend. I’ve had workshops where groups signed up together as well—a group of sisters and artists who show together in a cooperative gallery, for example. I’ve had people take my Zoom classes in teams as well—a husband and wife, a grandmother and grandson, and a mentor and her student. It seems like there’s exponential value in doing something you love with someone you love.
I don’t enjoy wrapping presents (although I know a lot of people who do). I do like watching people open gifts, however. But there’s something even better about giving a gift you get to share.
I’m very serious about teaching painting, but my workshops aren’t just art classes. They’re adventure because they happen in places that are out of the ordinary, like Sedona, Rockport, the Berkshires and Acadia National Park. Shared adventure makes for stories you can dine out on for years to come.
Every workshop student has their moment of doubt, when I’ve deconstructed what they think they know and what’s new doesn’t seem to be working. That always resolves in new, better ways, but it’s disconcerting to the student when he or she is in the throes of self-doubt. Suddenly, there’s the Eureka moment, when it gels. When there are two or more friends painting together, it’s fascinating to watch that moment of success hit them in rapid succession as they spark off each other.
There’s not much that brings people together more quickly or tightly than making something together. (Except assembling flat-pack furniture. That’s a team-stressor, but I won’t be asking you to do that.)
Blocking off time in 2026 for a shared workshop means carving out time for both your creativity and your relationship. Planning ahead gives both of you something wonderful to look forward to. It becomes a commitment to make art together in the coming year.
If you’re thinking, “I’d like to do something with my friend, but she’s an artist and I can’t paint, even though I’ve always wanted to,” that’s wonderful. With the exception of my advanced workshop in July, my workshops are all designed to welcome every level, from absolute beginners to hobbyists to professional artists. That’s because they’re small enough that I can focus on individuals. An artist is someone who makes art, period. What matters isn’t talent; it’s willingness. It’s the openness to try, explore, and play. And when you try something new side-by-side with someone you care about, it becomes a shared story you’ll both treasure.
As you think ahead to meaningful gifts for the new year—and especially for 2026—consider choosing a shared workshop. It’s more than a present. It’s an experience, a memory, and a promise for the future.
By the way, my Tuesday Zoom class for January and February, Where do I fit in, is almost full. Register soon if you want a seat. My Monday class, Trust the Process: making technique tell the story you want to tell, has several openings, but if you’re planning on taking it, I’d love to know soon!
Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:
- Canyon Color for the Painter | Sedona, AZ, March 9-13, 2026
- Advanced Plein Air Painting | Rockport, ME, July 13-17, 2026
- Sea & Sky | Acadia National Park, ME, August 2–7, 2026
- Find your Authentic Voice in Plein Air | Berkshires, MA, August 10-14, 2026
- New! Color Clinic 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 3-4, 2026
- New! Composition Week 2026 | Rockport, ME, October 5-9, 2026