Blog

I was recently invited to give a plein-air demonstration here in Southern California.  During a conversation, someone asked me, "Do you also work in the studio?"

I smiled.  Yes, I do.

I love painting outdoors.  The shifting light, the breeze, the unpredictability - plein-air painting asks for decisiveness.  It forces simplification.  The other morning, as I was painting, the light changed completely within twenty minutes.  What began as a cool morning scene turned warm and golden before I could fully establish my shadows.  There is no arguing with nature.  You respond, adjust, and move forward.  It keeps you honest.

But I also love the studio.  In the studio, I can work larger.  I can explore subjects that would be impossible to manage outside.  I can experiment with different tools, push color further, allow a painting to evolve over days rather than hours.  There is room for reflection, revision, and risk.

Outside, I respond.  Inside, I reflect.

Over time I’ve realized these two practices are not opposites. They inform each other.  The speed and clarity I gain outdoors strengthen my studio work.  The experimentation and depth I allow in the studio make me braver when I return outside.

Recently, a former student wrote to me feeling conflicted between painting loosely in a plein-air style and pursuing tighter realism in the studio.  He felt divided, unsure which direction defined him.  But perhaps we are not meant to define ourselves so narrowly.  Sometimes we simply need to paint what feels true in that moment.

Some works are born in wind and sunlight.  Others need quiet walls and time.  Both are valid.  Both are part of the same voice.
In the end, it isn’t about choosing between plein-air and studio.  It’s about sincerity.  It’s about staying engaged enough to keep growing.  For me, the open air and the studio are two rooms of the same house.  I move between them, and each reminds me why I paint.