Outdoor landscape painting in impasto style, capturing the first signs of attumn with thick layers of green and natural tones on canvas.
There’s a magic to painting outdoors when fall is just arriving. I set up my easel under a sky that can’t quite decide between sunshine and shade, and with each brushstroke, I feel as though I’m trying to catch the season in motion. There’s that “perhaps” quality to it—an unpredictable, unfolding moment. Standing here, I almost feel like I’m not just painting but attempting to translate the fleeting hope and unpredictability of the season itself.
“Lush Green Dreams” in Thick Paint
As an artist, there’s something deeply satisfying about layering on the paint in thick, bold strokes. My approach is pure impasto—heavy, textured, and far from delicate. I’m not after crisp details here; I’m capturing the feel of it, the rawness. When I see those first pops of green against a backdrop of still-bare branches, it’s like spring is announcing itself in bold color. My brush and palette knife lay down those colors like leafy sprays of joy, almost spilling onto the canvas. Each stroke feels like it’s not just capturing a moment but celebrating it in a way only spring can inspire.
The Awkward Beauty of Starting Fresh
Painting spring feels like working with a “perhaps hand,” hesitant and unpredictable. Nothing is really sure yet, not even me. Every time I approach the canvas, I’m a bit unsure—just as spring seems unsure whether to go all in or hold back a bit longer. The fun of painting like this is embracing the uncertainty. I might be one layer in and feel a pull to add a completely different tone. It’s all part of letting spring’s hesitant vibe seep into each layer. I paint what I feel, not what I see, letting the season guide my choices.
Whispers of Quiet Hills
It’s the quieter elements of fall, the hushed hillsides that draw me in and sometimes catch me off guard. With just the hint of color creeping across the fields, these “whispers” are what I aim to capture. My colors are never exactly what you’d expect. There’s something grounding in letting the quiet details have their place without making them obvious, giving the subtle parts of spring room to breathe. That’s the challenge—painting those tiny nudges of life emerging after the winter pause.
Celebrating the Joy in Every Stroke
In a way, my fall paintings are a way of connecting with the season’s energy—a bit like sharing in its joy, feeling a piece of its growth each time I lay on more paint. With each stroke, I feel that change of life, and I want it to be as raw and real on the canvas as it feels out here. That’s why I love painting plein air. It’s unpredictable, grounding, and sometimes just plain messy. But that’s life, isn’t it? And fall with all its stops, holds a mirror up to that.
So this is fall for me—an uncertain, changing color journey across a canvas, a chance to grab onto the “perhaps hand” of the season. Each painting is a nod to the feeling that life is both chaotic and beautiful.