Ah, what great intentions I had for a whole weekend of painting en plein air during the paint out/retreat at the Mission San Antonio de Padua in Monterey County, CA! This event was hosted by the California Art Club, a very prestigious art organization whose very accomplished members include the top plein air painters in the U.S. I have always wanted to go on a painting retreat where everything is provided from the bed to the meals along with gorgeous scenery. Being surrounded by other artists all doing their creative thing is inspiring yet intimidating to me. I like to think of all of us in a giant creative bubble, our blissful zones stretching across the fields to bump up against each other, to nudge each other along. Like the stream of consciousness which I believe runs through everything and everyone around us and helps carry everyone along on their journey. Then why, oh why, is it so scary to paint on location with lots of other people around?
Here's a recap of the weekend:
My friend and fellow Studio Channel Islands Artist-in-Residence Anette Power and I headed out mid morning on a Friday for the 4-5 hour drive north. We stopped in Avila Beach, a picturesque little beach town with brightly colored shops, for a delicious lunch. Next, we stopped in Paso Robles so I could introduce Anette to Anne Laddon, founder of Studios on the Park, an art center similar to ours. I knew the two would hit it off and they did! Anette was invited to participate in an upcoming plein air "Quick Draw" event in Paso Robles.
That made it worth us getting to the mission pretty late in the day, with just enough time to check in to our rooms and meet the other 40something artists in the dining room. Some of the artists had been at the mission all day painting and had already produced some nice work. I felt my usual guilt at not having been more productive that first day. It's something I wrestle with all the time, never quite allowing myself to enjoy some down time. I was determined to get at least 3-4 paintings done on Saturday!
After dinner Joan, our wonderful mission guide, gave us a tour of the grounds. She is quite the storyteller and we loved the tales about Rosario, the Holy Cat of the mission and how he came to his name, the history of the Salinan Indians of the area and Padre Serra who founded the mission in 1771, and the little girl Gigi who is the only person buried inside the mission. This mission is the only one in California not to be in a town or surrounded by farm fields. The location is remote and pretty much the way it was when it was founded except for the large Army base all around.
If you'd like to learn more about the mission and even plan a trip there (whether to paint or just relax), check out their link here. The mission was ordered by the State of California to be retrofit for earthquake safety and needs to raise $15 million to avoid being shut down. They love visitors, either groups, families or individuals for day trips or lodging. If you are a painter they also have 65 artists' work for sale in their gift shop, so you might want to consider joining those ranks or even donating a piece to their fundraisers. The rooms are sparse with just two beds and a sink, the showers and toilets are communal, but I loved that simplicity. Since there was no TV and no internet we went to bed early every night and were ready for a full day of painting after breakfast at eight.
Knowing that I would be able to concentrate better on that first scary painting of the day if I was not surrounded by a lot of people, I headed out into the field close to the Grist Mill. I worried a bit about the rattle snakes which were already coming awake in the warm spring air (and Joan had filled our heads with lots of tales about them coming out of the rafters of the mill, living in the adobe walls all over the grounds, etc.), but I liked the simple design created by the shape of the building, the low wall of the auqa duct connected to it and the field around it enough to put those thoughts aside. But to be honest, it was mostly the fear of having someone look over my shouder that was greater than the fear of snakes! Why, after all this time, is it still so hard to tune out other people and their opinions?
That first painting did nothing to easy my trepidations. Simply put, I hated it. It looked amateurish and sloppy instead of fresh and lively. I didn't like the surface I used even though it was not a new one. I wrestled with my demons of insecurity and used all of the positive affirmations I could think of to not beat myself up and pack it all in! One person did stop by and wanted to see what I had done, but fortunately I had already packed it in my backpack. (Back in the studio, I have rinsed the painting off and will try again but this time with more oomph!)
It was time for lunch and I was slogging my way to the dining room, shoulders drooping from the heavy backpack and somber thoughts. As I passed a few rusted old tools and wagons scattered throughout the many acres of the mission I took out my camera to shoot close ups, composing closely cropped abstracts in my viewfinder and getting more and more excited. Dropping all my gear to the ground I spent the next 30 minutes in a flurry of excitement shooting more than a hundred images of rust and dust, wood and crevices. I was late for lunch but had made a decision: I would paint what really excited me, not what was expected of me or what everyone else was painting! I had felt that I was SUPPOSED to paint the mission, its buildings and surrounding landscape, but WHO exactly was telling me to do that? I felt an obligation to even you, my dear two or three readers (and a few more on Facebook), to show the finished paintings that I thought you expected to see. And you may well be expecting to see familiar images of missions and may be disappointed but I am learning to listen more to my own voice and quieting those outside voices of others. Although I loved the mission, I just did not feel excited to actually paint it in the traditional way and did not feel like I had anything new to say about it. Once I tuned in more about what really gets my mojo going (and for me that seems to be more abstract design and closely cropped, zoomed in images) I was on a roll!
I spent the afternoon creating three paintings in the courtyard in close proximity to the other painters. The dark windows against the light adobe walls had really captured my attention and I wanted to practice getting all those colors in that seemingly off-white wall down. I could finally see them, all the peaches, blues, pinks and yellows and I was itching to paint them! Part of me still felt that I owed an explanation to why I was painting just one window or just a small part of a wagon wheel, and sometimes I did say something to passersby, but after a while, I just let go off justifying myself to anyone.
Here are the resulting paintings from that afternoon:
Mission San Antonio Window I, 8x6"
Mission San Antonio Window II,6 x 8
Mission San Antonio Wagon Wheel, 8 x 6
I felt good about my productivity after such a sluggish start. I also felt that I learned a lot that day. I have painted adobe walls before but always struggled with the nuances of colors found in them. I really could not see all the colors I saw other artists put into their paintings of these types of walls. I don't know if it's just a matter of experience, of putting in the hours of direct observation and painting or the meditating I did in the chapel in the mornings while Gregorian Chants played in the background 24/7...but I was finally able to see what they see! AND I was able to put it down on paper! I knew I had to just be careful to use the same value, then any color would work, but I was thrilled to finally have reached another level that had been difficult for me.
The next morning we debated whether to paint more onsite at the mission or head back south and paint along the way. We chose the latter, because we wanted to make a stop at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art and a few galleries. We were exhausted and eager to get home (why is it that standing still at an easel can be so tiring??) but determined to get at least one more painting in. That afternoon we found Loon Point Beach in Summerland, lugged our gear from the parking lot to the beach and scoped out the location. Immediately I saw a scene with Eucalyptus trees, which I love, and was inspired, but once again, my shyness got the better of me. I decided to head down further along the beach where I saw less people. I dragged poor Anette along, over a long stretch of nothing but boulders and rocks until we gave up and headed back to our original point. Well, at least we got our exercise for the day! By the time we got started there was very little good light left and we literally raced through our set-up, composition sketch and painting, but oh, what fun I had! It forced me to very quickly lay down the important shapes and values without being able to get distracted by details. I didn't have time to take pictures of the sketch and underpainting but believe me it was very simple. I then threw on colors with abandon and was actually giddy with joy and excitement! I didn't even care about the couple looking over our shoulder for a few minutes, I was just having a blast! Below, you can see the finished piece, with VERY little touch up in the studio. I wanted to leave it as loose and fresh as it was at the scene. The colors in reality are actually a bit brighter then you see in the photo especially the lighter blues in the foreground bushes.

Loon Point Beach, 8 x 6
We arrived home spent but happy. In the end we did do a lot of painting, networked and made new friends, filled our creative wells by visiting exhibitions at a museum and galleries, had some much needed down time away from all other responsibilities at home, had some "car seat counseling" while driving and learned a WHOLE LOT about each other, but most of all I learned this:
Tune out everybody else's voice, let go of any expectations you think others have of you and just follow your bliss! We can paint a variety of subject matter if we want, but let's always bring ourselves to it. I love looking at traditional paintings, especially the many plein air paintings done by California Artists, but I'm not always happy with my own results. Whether that's a lack of skills (I'm sure that has something to do with it) or the feeling that I just have nothing new to add unless I focus on the things that truly appeal to me, and paint them MY way, who knows. For now, I'll keep painting en plein air as much as I can and I have faith that through those many hours of practicing my own style will emerge.
Here are some more photos from the mission along with a couple that got me so excited and will turn into small paintings later:
Anette in front of the mission
Artists painting in the courtyard
The mission halls at dusk
The Grist Mill
Our group of artists
Rusted tools and wagons scattered throughout:
