Tag: plein air

Posted on

Stop copying in your landscape painting

Lynda Mussen is a regular for this workshop, and her painting is better every year.

Overlooking the Mt. Desert Narrows of Frenchman’s Bay (as we have been this week at my Schoodic workshop), the temptation is to simply copy what’s in front of us. That’s understandable. The scene is sublime, the birds are warbling, the ocean rolls ceaselessly towards us. Surely Nature is in charge of what to paint.

Nope. Nature is giving us raw material, not a finished composition. What’s there is too vast to capture in any one landscape painting. (That’s why your vacation snapshots are often so disappointing, by the way.) We must edit and compose ruthlessly, or our viewers will be left starved of the feeling of the place.

When I teach plein air workshops, students often ask whether they can change something. They’re tentative about moving a tree, eliminating a line of spruces or shifting Cadillac Mountain a little to the left. This is especially true of new painters.

Frank Costantino did this wonderful sketch of Cynthia while she was painting.

A quick note on weekly classes before we get into it

Claim your spot in Painting Nocturnes, Tuesday evenings or Painting Water, Monday evenings. Both are 6-9 PM, starting the week of August 17, 2026, and they’re filling up.

I upload videos of these online classes and you have access to them for as long as there’s YouTube. That means you can review them if you need a refresher or have to cut out early.

There are two answers to this question.

  • Even people intimately familiar with the place won’t notice the edits in your landscape painting. They react to the sense of place, not the details.
  • The sun is going to rearrange everything in your composition anyway, so why worry about moving a tree?

The landscape is not static. Shadows march across fields. Clouds drift overhead. Tide rises. Wind whistles. Boats glide through your carefully composed picture. The color temperature changes as the day winds through its courses.

Even photography isn’t objective. Every camera lens has a different focal length and field of view, and is set for different apertures and exposures. This changes how the camera records a scene as much as the painter’s eye does.

Karolina almost finished with her painting of the rock faces of Schoodic.

Your job is to organize visual chaos into something coherent.

How you organize your landscape painting is far more important than whether you’ve placed the rocks in exactly the same place that Nature did. You’ll hold the viewer’s eye when he or she can move naturally through the picture. That depends on the value structure, whether the color relationships feel convincing and whether the painting captures the experience of standing there. I’ve written extensively on the science behind this, starting here and here.

How do we do that?

Sometimes that means simplifying, sometimes it means exaggerating, sometimes it means leaving things out altogether.

The great landscape painters have always edited reality. The Impressionists used optical mixing to simulate the real glitter of light. The Hudson River School rearranged mountains and rivers to strengthen composition and make their point about America’s destiny. Even painstakingly realistic landscape painters like Rackstraw Downes are constantly deciding what deserves attention and what doesn’t.

Frank and Aaron, hard at work.

Is this dishonest?

Of course not. It’s the very essence of painting.

Imagine reading a novel that recorded every conversation, every meal, every minute of every day exactly as it happened. That’s À la recherche du temps perdu by Marcel Proust, and it’s excruciatingly dull. Writers edit to reveal meaning, and painters should do exactly the same thing.

Instead of asking, “How do I paint what I see?” ask what attracted you to this scene in the first place. That’s the painting; everything else is just border work.

Once painters stop trying to copy every leaf and stone their work becomes more believable. The painting has structure, intention and a clear visual hierarchy that viewers can enter into.

Your job is to interpret the landscape, not copy it.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

Ticks and the plein air painter

No ticks on the beach! Janet and Tricia told me the lint-roller secret to removing ticks from your dog and clothes.

“Are ticks as bad as the article in the New Yorker made them out to be?” a student asked me as she prepares for next week’s plein air workshop in the Berkshires.

Yes, ticks deserve respect. No, they shouldn’t keep you from painting outdoors.

If you live in the Hudson Valley (as she does) or anywhere in New England or the mid-Atlantic states, you’re already in tick country. Avoiding the great outdoors will reduce your exposure, but who wants to live like that? Use sensible precautions rather than staying indoors during the best part of the year.

A quick note on weekly classes before we get into it

Claim your spot in Painting Nocturnes, Tuesday evenings or Painting Water, Monday evenings. Both are 6-9 PM, starting the week of August 17, 2026.

I upload videos of these online classes and you have access to them for as long as there’s YouTube. That means you can review them if you need a refresher or have to cut out early.

Aaron’s very first oil painting. It was a crazy start to the week, with fog, wind and spattering rain, but my students all pushed through it.

How to avoid ticks

Wear long trousers, tuck your cuffs into your socks if you’re hiking through brush, and treat your clothing and shoes or use a good insect repellent.

I spend an unusual amount of time outdoors. I stay out of tall grass, use insect repellent and bathe when I get home, taking time to look for ticks.

Two students in this week’s Schoodic plein air workshop told me that they keep lint rollers in their cars. They’re inexpensive, handy tools to catch unattached ticks on your clothes, gear, and pets before you go inside.

Ticks are patient and remarkably durable. They wait on grasses and low vegetation for something warm-blooded to brush past. Plein air painters generally set up in open places with good views. That limits our exposure but doesn’t eliminate it.

Ticks are surprisingly slow. It can take them all day to decide where to latch on. A thorough check when you get back to your room is usually enough to catch any hitchhikers before they become a problem.

I carry a small tick removal tool on my keyring. They’re inexpensive and weigh almost nothing. I’ve used it on my dog many times, even though he’s on tick repellent. Dogs are a serious tick vector, especially if they ramble. Check your furry friend carefully before bringing him or her inside.

Mark’s watercolor of the fog in the spruces off Schoodic Point.

If you do find a tick

If you do have the bad luck to find an attached tick, don’t just pull it off; use a tick key or fine-tooth tweezers. Grasp the tick as close to the surface of your skin as possible. Using steady, even pressure, pull the tick upward in one swift motion without jerking or twisting it. If parts of the tick are left inside your skin, try to remove them with the tweezers. If you’re not able to, allow your skin to heal. That’s not my advice; it’s the Mayo Clinic’s.

The classic signs of an infected tick bite are an expanding bull’s-eye or red skin rash, flu-like aches, and a fever, but I’ve known people with Lyme Disease who developed none of these symptoms. If anything seems out of sorts after a tick bite, contact your medical provider and insist on a tick panel.

Sufia and Cynthia on day 2 of Schoodic. By Tuesday morning, the weather was brilliant, and it will be great the rest of the week!

Don’t let them steal your joy

The last time I had an attached tick was twenty years ago, when I was living in Rochester, NY. I’m cautious but not paranoid. I am not going to let them steal my love of the outdoors.

The goal of a plein air workshop isn’t to prove how tough you are. It’s to learn to see better, simplify complex landscapes, and enjoy painting in beautiful places. We choose locations that offer excellent subjects, convenient access, and comfortable working conditions. I want people to spend their time concentrating on color, value, and design.

So, pack your paints, bring a hat, apply your bug spray, and perform a quick tick check before showering. Then focus on the real challenge: deciding what to paint next. That’s a much happier question.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

The most important decision in plein air painting

Eastern Manitoba River, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, click on image for more information.

The wallpaper and carpet is gone, so I’m ready for my contractor when he shows up. (Hah!) I’ve moved on to packing for Sea & Sky at Acadia National Park and Find your Authentic Voice in Plein Air in the Berkshires (August 10-14).

I try to protect my students from too much bystander-commentary, but some of it inevitably slips through. (Some of this is unintentional, which is why you should be chary of having private conversations where painters might lurk in the shrubbery.) People say some silly things:

“Are you going to put me in it?” “I wish I had your talent.” “Do you sell these?” and my personal favorite: “That looks like so much fun!”

Moonrise, 12X16, oil on archival canvasboard. For more information, click on image.

Yes, it’s fun, but it’s not easy.

The landscape seems to drowse perpetually in quiet slumber, but in fact it suffers from restless-leg syndrome. This morning the sky went from overcast to austere blue. First there were no shadows; after they arrived, they quickly dwindled to noonday nothing. Now the wind has come around and is exposing the silvery underside of leaves. This evening there may be fog, there may be rain or it may clear.

A quick note on weekly classes before we get into it

Claim your spot in Painting Nocturnes, Tuesday evenings or Painting Water, Monday evenings. Both are 6-9 PM, starting the week of August 17, 2026.

I upload videos of these online classes and you have access to them for as long as there’s YouTube. That means you can review them if you need a refresher or have to cut out early.

Rachel’s Garden, ~24×35, watercolor on Yupo, museum-grade plexiglass. For more information, click on image.

How do plein air painters ever finish anything?

We aren’t painting everything we see. Plein air painting is generally done in two- or three-hour bursts. After that the light has changed so much that it’s hard to continue. Plein air is generally played fast and loose.

Asking yourself “why do I care about this” is a good first step. What caught your eye in the scene? Was it the rhythm of dark spruce against the bright ocean light? The gentle curve of an orchard sweeping down towards the mountains? If there’s no subject in the scene that compels you as a painter, it’s unlikely that your finished work will compel any viewers, either.

Once you’ve figured out the reason, your job is to place that idea front and center. Everything else is subservient.

Best Buds, 11X14, oil on canvasboard. For more information, click on image.

Memory is part of painting

If someone walks through your scene, you can’t ask them to stand still unless you’re willing to pay a modeling fee. It’s always helpful to keep a sketchbook handy, for figures, cloud formations, sailboats, etc. Your finished painting will ultimately be a combination of direct observation, remembered impressions and informed invention.

The most important decision you’ll ever make as a plein air painter

It’s true of all painting, but particularly true in landscape: the most important decision is what not to paint.

Ask yourself: If I leave this out, does the painting become clearer? In so many cases, the answer is yes.

Painting is all about organizing a beautiful chaos into a coherent design. We’re arranging shapes, values, colors, edges, and rhythms so the viewer experiences what moved us to paint that scene in the first place.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

A Day in the Field

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36. For more information, click on the image.

I’m juggling two different activities this week. I’m stripping the wallpaper and carpeting from my hallway in preparation for a bathroom renovation in September. (Yes, that’s mission creep.) I’m also packing my luggage, painting gear and teaching supplies for a two-week road trip. First, I’m teaching Sea & Sky at Schoodic Institute in Acadia National Park. Then I head south to teach Find your Authentic Voice in Plein Air in the Berkshires, from August 10-14.

What scares people the most about workshops

New students are afraid there will be better painters at hand and they’ll feel judged. But even the best painters are busy wrestling with their own painting problems. And plein air painters are—in my experience—overwhelmingly kind and generous.

The Wave, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard. For more information, click on image.

What they’re really asking

The real question is, “What a painting workshop really like?” The unknown is intimidating. Will you be rushed? (No.) Will you spend the day watching demonstrations? (No.) Will there be enough individual help? (Yes.)

A quick note on weekly classes before we get into it

Claim your spot in Painting Nocturnes, Tuesday evenings or Painting Water, Monday evenings. Both are 6-9 PM, starting the week of August 17, 2026.

I upload videos of these online classes and you have access to them for as long as there’s YouTube. That means you can review them if you need a refresher or have to cut out early.

Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, for more information, click on image.

Let’s look at a typical day

Serious teachers spend a lot of time investigating great locations. I’ll use Home Farm at Undermountain in the Berkshires as my example. This location has farm animals, elegant Victorian barns, and a long view across Parson’s Marsh.

We meet at 9 AM. I start with a short demo to demystify perspective, because architecture can be scary when you don’t know the tricks. Then students separate and start work on their own paintings. I do rounds from painter to painter, timing myself so that I don’t overload them with information. We understand best when new information comes in small bites.

Home Farm at Undermountain is different every year. Perhaps horses will amble over to see what’s happening, or a riding lesson is in the outdoor ring. Goats or sheep graze by the old chicken house. There are always elegant horses in the barn.

We gather to eat our bagged lunches and talk about our work. After lunch, some painters look for another view. Others are still deeply engaged in their first painting, and as long as they stay true to their value sketch they can take as long as they want.

My walk gets longer as students spread out, but I like walking.

What kind of advice am I giving as I circulate? Maybe composition needs simplifying. Perhaps a student lost the shadows that made his sketch so joyful. Maybe her color temperature has drifted, or she’s struggling to establish a clear focal point. Each painter receives advice tailored to where they are, whether it’s their first plein air outing or they’ve been painting outdoors for decades.

At 4 PM, I offer to take anyone who’s interested to Parson’s Marsh for a short hike. It’s a lovely way to stretch our legs and chatter.

Some painters room together, others decide to have supper together, others go explore Lenox’s many charms. Friendships form quickly when people share long days outdoors doing what they love.

Ketch and Schooner, 8X10 in a solid silver leaf frame. For more information, click on image.

I didn’t invent this model

This model used by all good teachers, indoors or out. It’s remarkable how much growth can happen in only a few hours when we’re working alongside other motivated artists in a supportive environment.

After decades of teaching, I know that 15 is the absolute maximum number a class should include. Small groups allow individual attention without sacrificing the energy that comes from painting alongside other dedicated artists. Everyone gets daily one-on-one easel guidance.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

What’s the difference between plein air and studio painting?

The Vineyard, oil on linen, 30X40, for more details, click on image.

I can beat a plein air painting to death as well as the next artist, so it helps to occasionally remind myself of the difference between plein air and studio paintings.

A quick note before we get into it

It’s time to claim your spot in Advanced Plein Air Painting, July 13-17 in Rockport, ME. If you have any questions about whether you fit into an advanced class, just ask!

In the field

Outdoors, I’m working against time. The light shifts, the shadows slide, the clouds roll by. I’m trying to capture something fleeting, and that forces me into clarity and economy of effort. I simplify, make snap decisions, commit. If I’m indecisive, it’s all over.

A good field sketch isn’t about detail; it’s all structure. It locks down the value pattern, major shapes and intent. It answers the essential question: what is this painting about? If you solve that outdoors, you’ve already done the hardest part.

Keuka Lake vineyard, oil on archival canvasboard, private collection. This was the nucleus of my idea for the studio painting above.

In the studio

I almost never revise my plein air paintings back in the studio, because I can improve them right into dust.

In the studio, everything changes. Time expands. I fuss and second-guess. It’s easy to lose the freshness of the original idea because the germ of the painting is no longer in front of me. It’s very difficult to avoid reinventing my idea.

I’d rather use plein air sketches to inform and define separate studio paintings. That allows plein air to be fresh and studio work to be refined.

Photos lie

There was a reason for the decisions you made in the field. Your value structure, focal points and big shapes all happened because something in the real world caught your imagination. You can’t duplicate that from a photo; your snapshots are an aide to memory, nothing more.

Photos encourage us to bore (in both senses of the word) into too much detail. That’s especially true when you have the leisure to overwork, to describe every branch and leaf.

This is another painting I did while working out the same idea. Private collection.

Vitality or polish?

If your field sketch was strong enough, edges can ultimately be clarified, color deepened, drawing corrected. You can push temperature relationships, unify passages and make sure the eye moves cleanly through the composition. But the raw, living thing you caught outdoors should never be overwritten. That sacrifices vitality for polish.

Frederic E. Church traveled throughout New England, New York, Virginia and Kentucky painting. He made two trips to South America and went to Mexico, Newfoundland, Labrador, the Middle East and elsewhere. He took his field sketches back to his studio and created monumental paintings that made him one of the most successful artists in American history.

Many painters get lost trying to compromise between plein air and studio painting techniques. The field demands boldness; the studio demands sophistication. To carry vitality into the studio, you cannot destroy the thing you loved. It’s the map that will give your studio paintings direction and life.

That’s exactly what I focus on in my From Field Sketch to Final Studio Work Zoom class (Tuesday evenings, June 2, 9, 16, 23, 30, July 7). We break down the process step by step so you stop fighting your own paintings and start building on them.

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36. Although large, it was done entirely en plein air. For more information, click on the image.

Painting clouds

Of course, structure is only part of the story. If you can’t handle moving elements like water or shifting forms like clouds, your field work will always feel incomplete. That’s why I’m teaching a focused session on Painting Clouds (Monday evenings, June 22, 29 and July 6). The subject forces you to simplify, prioritize, and paint with authority. Both classes are really about the same thing: learning to make decisions that hold up from first sketch to final brushstroke.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

A maritime painting that’s not out to sea

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Google tells me a lot of things I never knew I needed to know. One of these is that American Eagle in Dry Dock, above, is the most-viewed painting on my website, followed by Skylarking and Inlet. All three are watery paintings, although the water in American Eagle in Dry Dock is just out of the frame.

Not many people see boatyards in the dead of winter or early spring, but that’s when they’re the most interesting. I like to visit the North End Shipyard during the off-season. It has a marine railway, an ancient contraption on which a boat is slowly hauled onto dry land for its annual servicing, or fitting-out. Big old wooden boats don’t come out of the water often, since the planks would dry out and warp. Don’t feel sorry for them; up here the water is generally warmer than the air in winter.

Skylarking II, 18×24, oil on linen, $1855, includes shipping in the continental US.

During those few days when they’re up on the ways, all kinds of mysterious rites are performed over them—planks steamed and fitted and seams caulked with oakum. A Coastie goes around with a hammer pinging on the ribs to make sure everything is in order for the coming season. In another part of the boatyard, the blocks are sanded and varnished. (By the way, “in a trice” comes from another term for blocks. That’s how fast something can be pulled up with these nautical pulleys.)

The boat is sailed into a huge cradle and wooden supports are fitted underneath it. It’s then towed up by a winch-and-cable system attacked to the diesel engine, which is incredibly noisy and even older than the boatyard itself.

Why I like this painting

American Eagle in Dry Dock evokes the spirit of fitting-out to me. It’s got a sweeping curved prow, a wooden hull laid bare, and that ancient diesel engine.

The emphasis is on the boatyard’s heavy machinery in contrast to the elegant geometry of the schooner’s hull. Sometimes I like loose brushwork, but in this case, I ruthlessly pruned the details, making them subservient to the composition. You, the viewer, are left with two concepts in counterpoint to each other.

Whether you frame it in a traditional plein air frame or opt for a modern narrow black frame or even a grey coastal finish, American Eagle in Dry Dock will adapt beautifully to any décor.

Inlet, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling in continental US

Beyond mere picturesque appeal, the painting embodies my reverence for maritime history and craftsmanship. Schooner American Eagle was built in 1931 as part of the final generation of Gloucester fishing schooners. It was meticulously restored by Captain John Foss and is now maintained by Captain Tyler King.

For lovers of nautical art, coastal living or New England heritage, this piece is more than decoration, it’s a story. A story of wood and salt air, of salt-stained decks and wooden ribs exposed to the Maine cold during fitting-out. It calls to those who find solace in the quiet rhythms of boatyards, in the geometry of rigging, and in the romance of sail and tradition.

Ketch and Schooner, 8X10 in a solid silver leaf frame, $652 includes shipping in the continental US

Last call for Christmas

With the holiday season upon us, American Eagle in Dry Dock makes a unique and meaningful gift — for yourself or a fellow maritime-art admirer. Order now to enjoy the painting in time for Christmas. Its size (12X16) means it packs a punch without overwhelming your walls. And shipping is included within the continental United States, making this an accessible and impactful nautical oil painting.

However, I don’t have much time to get it to you before Christmas. Don’t miss this chance to bring home a piece of Maine coastal tradition that evokes sea, history, and craftsmanship, just in time for the holidays.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

Art + Community: Art Works for Humanity 2025

Old Masonic Temple, Belfast, oil on canvasboard, 10X11, Stephan Giannini

Every September, a group of painters fans out across Belfast and Waldo County. We were set up on the harbor, along quiet backroads and in downtown Belfast, responding to the light and landscape in real time. This was the 4th annual Art Works for Humanity, a plein air painting event organized by Habitat for Humanity of Waldo County. It is their largest fundraiser of the year.

This year’s artists were Deena Ball, Ian Bruce, Daniel Corey, Marsha Donahue, David Estey, Stephan Giannini, Eric Glass, David Hurley, Renee Lammers, Bjorn Runquist, Matthew Russ, Holly L. Smith, Suzannah Sinclair, Michael E. Vermette, Nora West and me.

The Last Light of Belfast, oil, 16X20, Daniel Corey

The premise is simple: we create original plein air paintings and these works are then auctioned to raise money for affordable housing. The live auction is this coming Saturday, October 4, and you can buy tickets here. This includes an elegant reception and the opportunity to meet me and other artists in person. Or, for the first time, you can bid online, here.

The event will be held at the United Farmers Market of Maine, 18 Spring Street in Belfast. The public viewing starts at 3:00 PM, followed by a reception at 4:30 PM, and the live auction begins at 5:30 PM. Belfast’s mayor, Eric Sanders, will serve as auctioneer. If you can’t be there in person, please consider bidding online.

I painted my work—a large panoramic vista of Belfast Harbor—from the east end of the pedestrian bridge. That hadn’t been my original intention; I’ve had a love affair with the rockscape of the head of tide of the Passagassawakeag River for several years. However, as I was heading down its steep gorge, a fisherman was climbing up. “Water level is real low,” he said. “As low as I’ve ever seen it.” That doesn’t make for brilliant painting.

Evening Sky, oil on canvas, 24X36, Carol Douglas

Instead, I drove back towards Belfast. A beautiful swirl of clouds curled over the city. It’s a good thing I laid them in fast. By the next day, the moisture was gone and we’d settled back into the pattern of blue skies and soft breezes that have characterized this summer.

On the pedestrian bridge, I talked to countless people, both visitors and locals. That included my old friend and gallerist, Eileen McDermott, who was out on her daily walk. She stuck around to tell people about the event. I was reminded of just how much I miss having her promoting my paintings.

One of the things I like best about art auctions is the opportunity to see my old friends. You might think we’d be falling all over each other while painting, but we had ten days and all of Waldo County at our disposal. It will be great to reconnect on Saturday.

Habitat for Humanity of Waldo County is a local affiliate of Habitat for Humanity International. They build decent, safe and affordable housing on terms that local people can afford. That’s a crying need here in midcoast Maine, where housing costs are very high.

Habitat’s model is to sell houses to working families who qualify after going through a multi-step application process. The new home owners also contribute at least 200 hours of sweat-equity to both their own and other Habitat houses.

A Belfast Afternoon, oil on linen, 12X16, Bjorn Runquist

Art Works for Humanity works because it’s so direct. Artists contribute their time and talent. Collectors and neighbors come to view and bid. Everyone’s efforts combine to support something bigger than any one painting.

I’m pleased to be part of this event again. If you’re in Belfast, come see the work, meet the painters and raise your paddle. If you’re online, bid early and often. It’s for a great cause.

I have just two workshops left in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: five days, five trees

Baby spruce on the shoreline at Corea, 8X10, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Early autumn is a season for show-offs. Maples are decked out in red, birches are fluttering gold confetti, and the oaks are quietly deepening into bronze.

This week, I’m challenging you to paint one tree a day for five days—a fast, seasonal series to sharpen your skills and catch the fleeting colors before they’re gone. Think of it as your equivalent of a daily walk: short, refreshing, anxiety-reducing and, above all, fun.

Those of you doing the Strada 30-day challenge (and you are legion) will find this a natural fit with your current discipline.

Eastern White Pine, 11X14, Carol L. Douglas, private collection

The challenge

  • Paint one tree each day, Monday through Friday.
  • Work small.
  • Focus on one tree per painting, not on an entire landscape.
  • Work fast. This is about observation and response.
  • You can work in oils, watercolor, gouache, acrylic, markers or even crayons.
Baby trees, 6X8, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Why trees?

Trees are ideal seasonal subjects. Each species responds to autumn differently, and every tree has its own character. By painting multiple specimens over a week, you’ll learn to:

  • Notice subtle shifts in color.
  • Closely observe the growth patterns of different species of trees.
  • Capture structure and gesture quickly.
  • Understand how light and atmosphere affect foliage.
  • Loosen up.
Nobody said these trees had to be realistic. This is also a 6X8.

Tips for Success

  • Pick your tree before you start. Eliminate decision fatigue.
  • Squint to simplify shape and value.
  • Start with big color masses, then refine edges and accents only as needed.
  • Resist the urge to noodle.
  • If it rains, paint from your car or porch. Or, if you can’t take time for plein air this week, paint from photos.

Share

I’d love to see what you create. Post your tree paintings on Instagram or Facebook with the hashtag #FiveTreesChallenge and tag me so I can see what you’re doing.

Pear tree, 9X12, Carol L. Douglas, private collection.

Why I’m asking you to do this

Many years ago, I set out to paint a 6X8 canvas of an individual tree every day. I quit only after I’d exhausted the selection of trees at my disposal. Since I live in the Northeast, this took a while.

My daily tree exercise was as useful to me as studying figure. I learned to understand trees in their robust roundness, and to draw them gesturally.

A short, structured challenge like this builds good painting habits. It sharpens our editorial instincts and creates painting momentum. By Friday, you’ll have a lovely little series, and who knows? Maybe you, like me, will keep painting trees.

Take it further

If this week’s challenge whets your appetite for deeper study, join me for my October Rockport Immersive Workshop in Rockport, ME. We’ll paint Maine’s spectacular autumn landscape, with focused instruction, plenty of easel time and a community of fellow painters. There’s no better way to grow than to paint intensively in good company.

Learn more and register here.

Posted on

Is an immersive art workshop different from a weekly art class?

Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed.

My latest reel is here.

Some of us want a teacher who cheers us on at every step, someone who makes us feel seen and supported. Others do better with clear standards and firm instruction. Most good teachers are a mix of both, but it takes time to tease out what a student needs. That’s where a painting workshop comes in.

The fundamentals of painting are light and shadow, proportion, design, color, composition and meaning. A great painting workshop folds these lessons into the practice of painting itself.

In my Rockport Immersive Workshop you’re not just painting for a week, you’re diving headfirst into the whole world of being a painter. These extra experiences are what make this workshop different from a weekly class.

Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What does immersive mean in this context?

When I say my fall workshop is immersive, I mean it’s a deep dive into painting. You’ll be stepping fully into an artist’s world, nourished by relationships, context, and creative resonance.

I’m really asking you to live the plein air painter’s life for a week. You’ll set up your easel in midcoast Maine’s most iconic landscapes, from Camden to Owls Head. You’ll stretch your skills with figure study in the crisp autumn light. You’ll reflect on what you’ve learned with serious art conversations during demos and lunches.

We’ll visit the Farnsworth Art Museum to discuss plein air painting through history. Colin Page has invited us to visit the Page Gallery, to help map out the conversation between contemporary practice and our own creative path. Then on Friday, we’ll have a group show, with your paintings on my gallery walls—and a celebration to cap off our time together.

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

What makes it truly immersive?

  • The extended duration allows ideas and skills to deepen and blossom;
  • Locations are not just scenic; they’re also historical and relate to movements in art;
  • Working alongside other passionate painters fosters creativity and learning that extends beyond instruction;
  • Seeing and discussing art in galleries and museums connects technical practice with where we stand in the great sweep of art history.
Beauchamp Point, Autumn Leaves, 12X16, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Because I keep my groups small, there’s plenty of room for one-on-one support. I explain, demo and then step back so you can try it yourself. The real goal isn’t to make you a copy of me, but to help you unlock your own ideas and refine your own painter’s voice.

If you’ve been waiting for the right moment to invest in your art, this is it. Spaces are limited, so grab your spot today!

Posted on

Monday Morning Art School: the overwhelming landscape

The Vineyard, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Last summer, one of my students arrived at my workshop with a problem I see frequently. She could draw beautifully from photos, but when she set up outdoors, she froze. “The landscape is overwhelming,” she said. “There’s too much going on. I don’t even know where to start.”

That’s the problem of infinite options, and at times it can be a stumbling block for even the most experienced painters, especially in a new environment. There is a sense that the whole world is pressing in, demanding to be painted. If you succumb to that and don’t break the scene down, you end up fussing endlessly over detail. Or, by trying to include everything, you end up with a painting about nothing in particular.

On the first day, I gave this student one simple assignment: big shapes first. We stood on the edge of a blueberry barren, facing a stand of spruces set against the immensity of the ocean and the sky. “Squint,” I told her. “What are the three biggest shapes you see?” She hesitated, then answered: “The sea, the sky and the trees.”

Athabasca River Confluence, 9X12, $696 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

That became, in the end, both her composition and her focal points. Once she blocked these in on her sketch, she could move easily into a structured, sensible painting. She was no longer struggling to find a starting point in an immense landscape, and the mindless chatter of too much detail faded.

By the end of that day, she had a painting that was loose, fresh, and alive. More importantly, she had an epiphany. She realized she didn’t have to paint everything, only the essence of the scene. From that point onward, the workshop was a romp for her.

Every painter has hurdles like this—sometimes it’s drawing, sometimes color, sometimes just getting past his or her own nerves. The good news is: once you know the roadblock, you can break it down. That’s where good instruction and practice make all the difference.

Coal Seam, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

But don’t take my word for it

Here are some of the comments I received after last year’s October immersive plein air workshop:

“The week started as an exercise in frustration, for all the varied reasons that make watercolor challenging. But Carol, with a sprinkling of her magic dust, managed to turn it into a high by Friday afternoon.” (Rebecca)

“It was a week of growth for me! Thank you, Carol, for a wonderful learning experience.” (Lynda)

“What a magnificent experience this has been to meet everyone, be a part of a week of learning, living, creating, with like-minded artists and a teacher with significant range… I loved our week together and would do it again in a heartbeat.  I learned so much from Carol, which was the icing.” (Jody)

“I had a wonderful week! I learned a lot and am left energized and motivated to put all my new-found methodology to work.” (Beth)

“Thank you for the abundant art wisdom, patience and willingness to give of yourself.” (Sandy)

“This is the first workshop I’ve attended without a 2–3-hour demo to start every day and it was WAY better!  The personal attention addressing my painting–where I’m at and where I’m trying to go–was so much more helpful than watching someone paint then trying to relate it to my work.  The demo at the end of the week solidified all that we had discussed all week. (Christine)

Eastern Manitoba River, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed when standing in front of a landscape, don’t put off tackling it. My October immersive plein air workshopis your chance to face it head-on. With its sweeping views and ever-changing light, Beech Hill is one of the best classrooms you’ll ever step into.

But space is limited, and October will be here before you know it. Don’t wait—secure your spot today, and give yourself the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for.

Click here to reserve your place before it’s gone.