Ellen Hubble: “It’s sitting still in one place, being immersed in the environment."
By Catherine Watson
“BYO art materials, water, chair, drinks, snacks, picnic,” the invitation to the first Artists in the Woodlands session stated. I’ve brought none of them. I can’t paint or draw so I’ve brought a camera. My plan is to watch artists at work in an en plein air session.
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When we meet at the Dunbabbin Road Picnic Area at the top of the Gurdies the storm clouds are looming and a devilish wind is swirling across the bay. Sensibly, most people have decided to give it a miss so there are just three of us – Ellen Hubble (the organiser and an accomplished artist), Lisa Buckley (also an accomplished artist) and me.
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Artists in the woodlands En plein air sessions are held every second Wednesday from 10.30am-1pm. Meet at the Dunbabbin Road Picnic Area. BYO art materials, water, chair, drinks, snacks. Email Ellen at [email protected] for more information. |
Ellen asks me what materials I’ve brought. I explain that I don’t do art. Ellen was an art teacher for many years and she’s dealt with people like me before. She hands me some pens, a bush and a special pad. The ink wash means I won’t have to worry about the “tonality” of my work, she explains.
I haven’t got the faintest idea what that sentence means. Ellen interprets my reluctance as modesty. She says she has a sneaking suspicion that I’m actually very good at art. Which means she’s about to be doubly disappointed.
Bust she's shamed me into it. We head off down the track companionably before dispersing. I pick my favourite Gurdies tree, an old stag beside the track, filled with hollows. I think of it as the apartment tree, home to scores of families. Since I haven’t brought a chair, the advantage is a little grassy knoll that I can sit on while I draw my tree.
I haven’t got the faintest idea what that sentence means. Ellen interprets my reluctance as modesty. She says she has a sneaking suspicion that I’m actually very good at art. Which means she’s about to be doubly disappointed.
Bust she's shamed me into it. We head off down the track companionably before dispersing. I pick my favourite Gurdies tree, an old stag beside the track, filled with hollows. I think of it as the apartment tree, home to scores of families. Since I haven’t brought a chair, the advantage is a little grassy knoll that I can sit on while I draw my tree.
I make a few strokes and nothing goes where it’s meant to go, even when I really, really concentrate. Eventually I give up and draw the woodland in my head, although this is exactly what you’re not meant to do in a plein air session, obviously. Amidst the stillness, I'm gradually absorbed by the work.
Then that magical thing happens as it always does if you stay still long enough in the bush: the birds return. Suddenly I’m surrounded by carolling magpies and grey shrike thrushes. I glance at the old stag tree I have failed to draw and find a pair of crimson rosellas watching me watching them.
I wish I had the skill to draw them but a photo will have to do.
Then that magical thing happens as it always does if you stay still long enough in the bush: the birds return. Suddenly I’m surrounded by carolling magpies and grey shrike thrushes. I glance at the old stag tree I have failed to draw and find a pair of crimson rosellas watching me watching them.
I wish I had the skill to draw them but a photo will have to do.
I’ve heard my artist friends say it’s hard to know when a work is finished but I have no such trouble. I know my work is done when my fingers turn blue from the cold and I can no longer hold the pen.
Woodlands 1 by Catherine Watson. Ink wash on paper
We meet up and compare notes. Lisa's is a detailed version of the bush.
Woodlands 1 by Lisa Buckley.
Woodlands 1 by Ellen Hubble: paint on paper Ellen has painted a dead tree, surprisingly colourful amidst the blackness. And look: a crimson rosella is peeking out of a hollow in her tree!
A good morning’s work, we agree, and I remember that art is all about the process and not the result. I’ve had a good time!
I ask Lisa and Ellen what en plein air painting means for them.
"I find that with plein air painting and sketching you are in the moment quickly capturing the sounds, sights, smells, colours of your surroundings and observing small details which you can also use for more detailed work later on," Lisa says.
Ellen says she finds it meditative. "It’s sitting still in one place, being immersed in the environment. It’s not like taking a photo. Painting and drawing is a slow process. You might be there for an hour. You’re absorbing the experience. You stop and let it come to you.
“You’re allowing yourself to see. It’s eye-brain-hand co-ordination. You’ve got to focus. That’s really important. You’ve got to step back."
She says it’s also a humbling experience because it’s so difficult to translate three dimensions into two on paper. “The painting or drawing pales against the real thing. We can feel deflated with our own creation while in situ but it often comes into its own when you take it home.”
Hmmm, perhaps I’ll have another go. I could put in some leaves next time.
A good morning’s work, we agree, and I remember that art is all about the process and not the result. I’ve had a good time!
I ask Lisa and Ellen what en plein air painting means for them.
"I find that with plein air painting and sketching you are in the moment quickly capturing the sounds, sights, smells, colours of your surroundings and observing small details which you can also use for more detailed work later on," Lisa says.
Ellen says she finds it meditative. "It’s sitting still in one place, being immersed in the environment. It’s not like taking a photo. Painting and drawing is a slow process. You might be there for an hour. You’re absorbing the experience. You stop and let it come to you.
“You’re allowing yourself to see. It’s eye-brain-hand co-ordination. You’ve got to focus. That’s really important. You’ve got to step back."
She says it’s also a humbling experience because it’s so difficult to translate three dimensions into two on paper. “The painting or drawing pales against the real thing. We can feel deflated with our own creation while in situ but it often comes into its own when you take it home.”
Hmmm, perhaps I’ll have another go. I could put in some leaves next time.