The beauty of painting outside

Painting outdoors sounds romantic. And sometimes it really is. But there are also cold hands, wind trying to steal your paper, and light that changes faster than you can mix a colour. Still, I often feel that an afternoon outside teaches me more than a whole week in the studio. Here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

Keep it small and simple.

I’ve learned that a big canvas can quickly become a struggle outdoors. These days, I prefer A5 paper and give myself around twenty minutes for each little study. Working small takes away some of the pressure. I stop worrying about every detail and simply let myself paint.

Choose one moment of light.

Outdoor light is always changing. I used to want to capture everything, but now I try to focus on one particular moment instead. Maybe it’s the soft grey light of early morning, lasting just a few minutes. I paint what I see in that moment and let the rest go.

Bring fewer colours.

Outside, there’s already so much to take in. I find it easier to work with just three or four colours and see what I can do with them. Having fewer options makes me look more closely and mix more thoughtfully. Somehow, the painting starts to feel more like the place itself, rather than a copy of what I see.

Pack light.

I don’t need much: a small palette, two brushes, a jar of water and paper clipped to a board. It all fits into one bag, which is exactly how I like it. I’ve noticed that the more I carry, the less time I actually spend painting.

And honestly, the finished paintings are rarely the best part. What I love most is spending an hour looking so closely at one little corner of the world that I begin to notice things I would otherwise have missed. The changing light, the tiny shifts in colour, the details I might have walked straight past.

That’s what painting outdoors keeps teaching me: to slow down, pay attention and let a moment be enough. The painting is simply a reason to stop and look.