Why I paint in the elements instead of four walls, and what I keep on learning every time.
Waikoko Color, oil on canvas, North Shore Kaua'i.
If there is one requirement for Plein Air, it is to be able to keep your sense of humor while everything around you tries to blow away and crumble into a muddy-paint-sandcastle. I laugh more often than not, but I also take it seriously, and the painting grows into something unique because of the little absurd things I am constantly adapting to. And although it's easy to make jokes about it all, painting outside is also a true personal meditation for me.
My mind is quiet in the full-bodied orchestra of nature. I paint outside for this peace- for the fresh air, the sun and rain clouds, even the unpredictable windstorms and erratic elements. I go for the heart-wrenching neon colors of sunrise and sunset, for the people visiting and for the local community stopping by. It is the whole energetic offering of the space.
Painting in the elements teaches me to really let go. To move with the constant ever-present change — not against the current but with it. To trust my instincts and intuition more than my expectations and control. Every Plein Air piece is a little record of what the land and I decided together, and my continual surrendering to the moment and the craft.
You cannot force anything in Plein Air. And for a painting to really become something worth admiring, you must be present, there is no other way. You must let the surroundings lead. You are not just leading a horse, you are trusting a horse to lead you; it is a relationship.
You listen to what the light whispers, what the land is saying, what the canvas wants — and your brush follows. When the weather shifts, you shift with it. There’s a comfort in that; constant reminder that you’re part of something moving, breathing, alive.
That is one reason I keep going back to the shoreline with all my gear and pure intentions: each painting becomes a doorway into another version of myself — one that’s more patient, more curious, more diligent and most importantly, more willing to forget myself altogether; to dissolve into this practice and the place, and to let the world move me instead of the other way around.
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