The Art of Plein Air Painting
It is said that artists use their art form to make sense of the world, and this is certainly true in the practice of plein air painting. As artists work in the landscape, they directly interpret their surroundings and experience, capturing it with immediacy in paint.
Plein air painting is an enthralling and challenging process. It is different from studio work and, as such, requires different perceptual awareness, skills, and equipment. The results are also distinct in character, often more gestural and spontaneous than studio work.
A personal approach
In this post, I share my personal experience with plein air painting. I do not speak for all artists—there are many ways of working in the landscape; I simply offer my story.
My very first time painting en plein air was at art college, when my class of 15 students and two lecturers travelled to the South Coast of NSW to paint. Each of us was armed with twelve 9×5-inch boards to work on, in the tradition of the so-called Australian Impressionists, Streeton, Roberts, and McCubbin. I worked with acrylic paints, broad hog-bristle brushes, and boundless enthusiasm. There were no rules about subject matter or style and, with carte blanche, I relished working rapidly, evoking the energy and mood of the place without fear of making mistakes.
This experience changed me. Ever since, I have ventured into the landscape to paint or draw.
Why I paint outdoors
At times I am drawn to do this by my longing to connect with a place. By immersing myself in the act of painting in the landscape, I can relate deeply to its visual landforms and features—its smells, sounds, textures, and even tastes. As I open my awareness to a non-verbal experience of the place, I can create a response imbued with a sense of immediacy and perceptual authenticity. Rather than simply recording the appearance of the landscape or depicting its phenomena, the painting encapsulates the spirit of the place.
I also work plein air to hone my painting skills and improve my capacity to make gestural, loose marks. Being outdoors requires me to work quickly—to be decisive in the myriad small actions that make up a painting. These include, but are not limited to, colour, composition (the structure), the character of marks and lines, the size and type of brushes and supports, and the mood and scope of the picture. Painting en plein air is like boot camp for the artist—and I have found it invaluable for my skills development.
A third reason I choose to work in the landscape is to understand myself better. The rigours of art-making and the risks involved in creativity bring up sensations, thoughts, and feelings that have the potential to derail me. It seems inevitable that during the process of making a painting, I traverse different states of being. Confidence rises and falls; doubts wax and wane. To get through this—for the picture to transcend the sum of its parts—I need to harness persistence, problem-solving, and courage. Part of my learning in plein air painting is to expect all of this and more: to notice my frustration mounting, to observe the thoughts giving rise to the feelings, to regulate my nervous system and soothe my fears. Part of my task is to be curious, reflect on similar past challenges, stay present, and act with confidence and trust.
Setup matters
All this is only possible if I have the right setup and equipment.
Though people say one shouldn’t blame the tools for shoddy work, I find it’s sometimes true. Plein air painting is challenging enough without handicapping ourselves with an inadequate setup!
Easel and stance
To allow me freedom of movement while painting—and to step back between brushstrokes—I prefer to stand at an easel. To cope with uneven ground, wind, and other unforeseen circumstances I use a lightweight but strong portable easel, without a paint box. For many years I used a timber one, but recently I bought a metal one to try and it was effective, though somewhat fiddly to set up. Like tents, there is no perfect easel for all purposes or people; it’s about finding one that suits your individual requirements and preferences. I carry mine in a long fabric bag (originally from a camping chair) so that it can be slung over my shoulder. Often, in high winds, I attach weights to the legs, so I carry some cord to tie on a water bottle, backpack, or similar.
Paint and palette
When it comes to paint, for familiarity and ease of mixing I pack the same colours I prefer to use in the studio plus a few extra. At the very least, one needs a basic split-primary palette (warm and cool of each primary colour, black, and white). However, when travelling to the Northern Territory to paint, for example, I took extra cobalt blue, ochres, vermilion, and cadmiums. In the studio I usually mix my paint with a painting or palette knife, so I include a few of those in my kit.
Brushes
Brushes, brushes, and more brushes… I can never have too many! I use a range of hog and synthetic bristle brushes as well as softer badger and camel hair. My plein air painting kit includes a couple of brush rolls, each packed with a range of brushes from 1.5” to size 2 in a variety of shapes—round, flat (square end), filbert (tapering), fan, and mop (wash). Each brush makes a unique mark. When I’m in the throes of a painting, to stay in flow and not get frustrated, I need to have them all at hand.
Supports and transport
As for supports or grounds, I prefer plywood boards. They are durable and relatively light and allow me to apply paint thickly so that it sits proud on the surface, holding its shape. When travelling with wet paintings I store them in flat boxes—such as under-bed storage or fruit boxes—protecting them from dust and damage. If they are only just dry, a sheet of glassine paper will further protect them. With acrylic paint, storage is not as much of a problem, as the paint dries rapidly.
Packing list
Other essential painting materials that fill my backpack are a palette (a plastic document holder), cling wrap (Glad Wrap) to prevent paint drying between sittings, plastic bags for dirty rags, solvent, tape (for any eventuality), rags, baby wipes, an apron, a hat, a lightweight folding chair and table, sunscreen, insect repellent, pencils, a Stanley knife, an eraser, a sketchbook, and a viewfinder. You can find a comprehensive list of plein air painting equipment on my website—for oil, acrylic, and watercolour, at https://corinneloxton.com.au/workshop-forms-and-info/plein-air-painting-equip
Getting out there
Though important, having the right equipment does not make anyone a plein air painter. While it demonstrates our intention and desire, we still need to take the plunge—go outside, mix some colours, and apply the paint! We still need to lean into the discomfort of facing a landscape infinitesimally larger than ourselves to put brush to ground. And this is where I suggest two things: a viewfinder and a large dose of curiosity mixed with playfulness. The former will frame a small part of the vastness in front of you, and the latter will open you to possibilities. They will open your eyes and your spirit, animate your hand, and excite your imagination to explore the landscape in paint, without fear of failure or criticism.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this wondrous dance—of painting, place, landscape, the self, and creativity. And if you’d like to come and paint with me, whether you’re a seasoned artist or just want to give it a try, then check out the retreats I’m offering in autumn in the spectacular Capertee Valley. I’d love the opportunity to encourage and support you on your artist’s way!
