I didn’t bring my easel. That was the big decision at the start of this summer’s plein air painting trip. We were heading to three locations—visiting friends and family—and between limited luggage space and the desire to keep things light, the easel stayed home. But I did pack my pastels, paper, and a quiet commitment to make time for painting—even when that always seems harder than it should be.

What followed wasn’t about chasing masterpieces. It was about staying open to the moment and letting my surroundings suggest the next piece. Sometimes, the subject was modest. Sometimes, my setup was awkward. But the doing? That was the real gift to myself!

Here are five small pieces from the trip—each one a reflection of what caught my eye, what I had with me, and what I felt worth painting. I can see things I’d like to tweak in a couple but for now, they are what I painted in the moment.

Travelling Light: My Plein Air Painting Trip Setup

I went minimal. No easel. A small box of pastels. UART paper in a pad complete with glassine. A board. It wasn’t always comfortable (I used what was available in the moment), and I definitely missed standing to paint—but the freedom of having a lightweight setup meant I could paint almost anywhere… once I found a shady spot to perch.

Okay, let’s have a look at my plein air painting results!

1. Cottage with Lilies

This was one of the first paintings I did. What to paint? I found areas of shade and looked around to discover what caught my eye. And there it was, a pop of fiery orange lilies brushing up against the window of the cottage corner. I perched myself on a low stool and balanced my board on my knees. I was missing my easel terribly but was determined to catch the warmth and coziness of the scene.

Sometimes, the most paintable subjects are just around the corner—literally.

2. Garden, Shed, and Quite a Bit of Chaos

Next, I turned to a slightly overgrown bit of garden beside an old outbuilding. A mishmash of textures and shapes, it didn’t look promising at first glance. Overgrown, a little messy, but something about it kept calling me back. Once I squinted, I could see a few large shapes, a play of light, and a chance to simplify. There’s something deeply satisfying about making sense of visual clutter with a value sketch and then painting it with a limited palette and a few well-placed strokes. I love that I could paint something from what, on a quick glance, looks like nothing paintable!

It’s not about painting the things. It’s about painting the relationships.

3. Sailboat at Anchor

This was painted at Blue Sea Lake in Quebec. The vast water felt intimidating—too open, too much. But a single moored sailboat gave me focus. Halfway through, the wind picked up and the boat changed position entirely, which was… not ideal! Thankfully, my thumbnail and early block-in carried me through.

One object can hold the weight of a whole painting if you let it.

This little piece ended up as a thank you gift for our hosts. I think I could have sold it, but I was happier giving it. There’s something special about a painting staying with the place it was made.

4. A Solitary Tree

Looking out from the deck, my eye kept drifting back to this lone tree. Strong, sculptural, a bit weathered. It had a presence. I wanted to see how far I could take it using restraint—simple composition, limited palette, just enough mark-making to honour what was there.

This one was about rhythm and restraint. And trusting that it was enough.

5. Rocking Chair + Towel = A Story

This was an impulse painting. I wasn’t planning to paint—but then I saw it: a rocking chair, towel draped casually over the seat, sun-warmed and with a story all its own!  It practically begged to be painted. I loved the strong combination of form and colour.

When a subject makes you smile, it’s worth painting.

Final Thoughts

None of these paintings were made with gallery walls in mind. But that wasn’t the point. This plein air painting trip, pared down and imperfect, reminded me that plein air painting is about presence. About observing and making marks without needing the result to prove anything. Plein air painting is about being in the experience and not worrying about the outcome.

Yes, I missed my easel. Yes, I cursed a few awkward painting positions and battled a whole lot of green. But each time I sat down and opened my pastel box, I remembered what I love most about painting outdoors: the simplicity of seeing something—and responding to it.

So if you’re heading out (or even just enjoying your back garden or balcony view), don’t wait for the perfect scene or perfect setup. Paint what pulls you in. Use what you have. Let it be about the doing, about the intention to respond and capture what you see.

Have you ever painted with a pared-down kit or chosen an oddball subject just because it called to you? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

Until next time,
~ Gail

PS. To see my plein air gear, check out this earlier post on the Imperfection of plein air painting. The painting was done at the same place as the first two pieces in this blog post!