Painting the changing light and landscape of North Yorkshire
Painting outdoors (en plein air) changes the way I paint. Working directly in front of the landscape encourages a more spontaneous approach, and I believe the resulting paintings capture something of the essence of the scene that would be difficult to achieve in the studio.
Photographs are useful, particularly for reminding me of a place I've painted before, but they can never quite replicate the sense of space, atmosphere, colour and light you experience when you're actually there.
In a photograph, the darkest areas can often become almost black, whereas in reality, shadows contain a myriad of subtle colours. The relationships between colours are different too, and these are things I can observe and respond to much more readily when painting on location.
Working with the Landscape
There's also the exhilaration of being out in the countryside itself. The light, weather and movement of shadows are all part of the experience, and inevitably influence the painting.
Of course, it would be much easier to work in the controlled environment of the studio. There's no wind, rain, cold or summer heat to contend with, and no need to work at pace before the shadows move or the light changes.
But those challenges are part of what makes painting outdoors so rewarding.
I'm forced to make decisions quickly, to simplify what I see and concentrate on the essential shapes, colours and relationships within the landscape. There's less opportunity to deliberate over every mark, and I think this often brings a freshness and directness to the finished painting.
For me, plein air painting remains at the heart of my practice and continues to play an important part in how my work develops.
Familiar Places, Different Seasons
Much of my painting takes place in the countryside close to home in North Yorkshire. By necessity, I return to familiar locations throughout the year, often waiting until something about a particular scene catches my eye.
It might be an interesting arrangement of trees, the shapes of fields and hedgerows, or a moment when the light brings an otherwise ordinary view to life.
I'm not necessarily looking for a picturesque scene. What interests me is a composition of shapes, light and colour that I feel could make a compelling painting.
I find myself particularly drawn to winter. With the trees bare and the vegetation less dominant, the underlying structure of the landscape becomes more apparent. The colours are often more varied and subtle than people might imagine, and the landscape itself changes less rapidly than it does in the growing seasons.
Returning to the same places allows me to see them differently throughout the year, and subjects that might not have interested me on one visit can suddenly become compelling on another.
The Painting Afterwards
One of the things I enjoy most happens when I return home after a day's painting and place the board on my studio easel.
Seen close up, the painting can appear almost abstract - a collection of expressive marks, patches of colour and textures made in response to the landscape.
But step back a few feet and those same marks come together to form a recognisable scene.
There's something particularly satisfying about that transformation. The painting isn't a precise record of everything I saw, but a personal interpretation shaped by the light, the conditions and the decisions made in the moment.
And it's that quality, which I find so difficult to replicate when working from photographs, that keeps drawing me back outdoors with my paints and easel.
