What I Learned on My 30-Day "Art Challenge" in August

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What I Learned on My 30-Day "Art Challenge" in August

My Friday-morning newsletter resumes today. So strange to be away from all of you, this creative community, for a full thirty days, while I took my first break in writing this newsletter since 2008! I learned much by retreating, it was quite challenging in unexpected ways, and I came back with new ideas to share. Read on . . .

My plein-art painting setup, as I study water reflections.

Retreats and I have a love-fear relationship. The love is all that time, space, and possibility. That’s also the fear generator—like the blank page, I often don’t know how best to do my best. I’ve taught retreats and watched other writers hit this wall. But I also know how incredibly valuable they can be, with some planning, some courage, and a lot of luck.

I planned a courageous 30-day art challenge for the month of August. My latest manuscript, a short-story collection, rested in the hands of beta readers before going to my agent. I couldn’t mess with it anymore. So I scanned my creative life for what needed juice. It was my painting.

I’m a passionate plein air painter and writing and publishing two novels in the past two years had taken me too far from it. I needed to get back into gear.

So I decided to leap. Right into a retreat. Here’s what happened each of the four weeks and what I learned.

Pre-retreat: preparation

I thought for weeks about what I could commit to, on this retreat. What would be exciting and not too scary?

I decided that I’d do something connected with art every day. It didn’t have to just be painting. I wanted to get the creativity flowing and get my hands on the paints, of course. But I also knew I’d need warm-up time, and I didn’t want to shame myself if that took a few days or longer.

So I told myself I could explore all facets of art: creating with my hands, heart, mind; filling the well of inspiration, because inspiration fuels momentum, in my experience. Play with my art stuff. Go to a summer crafts fair. Read an art book or magazine. Talk with other artists. Go to a museum. Go online and take a workshop.

I knew that momentum came from immersion, and the love would begin to trickle back in. Love is a great fuel for artistic momentum, in my view.

Here are the “rules” I came up with:

Although I did not require a certain amount of time each day with my art, I had to do something connected to it each day of August.

I wanted to honor my best rhythm for when I work most creatively: usually in the early part of the day, especially when it’s hot.

Art came first each day, whenever possible. Some art activity before other tasks took me over.

It had to be portable. In August, we often travel to see friends. How could I take my art challenge with me? I wanted to set myself up for this, so it wouldn’t become a road block.

Whatever I created would be on display in my office or studio all month, so I could get satisfaction from how my efforts were manifesting.

I also kept a log of each week, what I did, what I struggled with, what I felt satisfied with, as notes in my journal.

Rules are just what you know at the time. I learned which of these worked and which needed adjusting by week four. More on that below.

Week one: getting the juices flowing

Week one was all about getting the juices flowing: gather my supplies, gain inspiration from other artists, begin to play.

First stop, my studio. I’ve had this creative space for ten years, use it a lot sometimes and neglect it other times. As you might know from this article on ’s “How We Spend Our Days,” my studio consists of a high-ceilinged room plus a storage loft in an artists’ collaborative, a restored mill building overlooking a river in our town. It’s about five minutes from home. Two easels are set under big windows next to my painting supply table. There’s good lighting, air filtration, storage shelves, music, and a round oak table for writing.

My only frustration is that I’m not painting outside. But generally, it works most of the year.

I first went to my shelves of art books and spent an hour browsing for ideas. I immediately pulled out an all-time favorite: Art Before Breakfast, by Danny Gregory. I planned to start my creative engines with a daily drawing exercise from Gregory’s book so I found a small sketchpad and a fine-point Micron pen.

Although I mostly planned to paint (I work in soft pastels, usually en plein air—outside), I knew it was more scary to paint every day than doodle or draw. So Gregory’s book would give me courage.

I found my travel easel, travel paint box, and painting “starts” (rough unfinished paintings started on location, waiting to be completed). Painting has been sporadic these past two years, as I said, because my two novels gearing up for publication took all my energy. So I had accumulated a good stack of starts to work on. A wealth to begin with!

What I took away from week one

Art before Breakfast drawing every day lubricates the gears.

Ditto, reading an art magazine.

I love our state’s annual crafts fair, so much amazing art!

Finally set up my outdoor painting easel—and I try to work on a start but get discouraged.

Getting started on any art challenge can be discouraging at first. I looked at my starts, thought about how well I might have captured a scene on location, then went immediately into fear of messing it up now! The light was completely different. I was trying to remember and reproduce from something I saw months ago in a different place and time. Even with a reference photo, it can be tough to capture.

So week one, I let myself get warmed up. I sorted through the starts and imagined what I’d do when I actually got outside, painting. But, of course, we happened to have a terrible heat wave that week, so painting outside was out except very early in the morning when I watered my garden.

Bummer. I reminded myself it was all OK, part of the plan, but I still felt like I was cheating not to actually paint.

Week two: take the show on the road

I had two trips planned for week two. One was a weekend at Tanglewood in the Berkshires of western Massachusetts where we hear beautiful music each summer. Two was a visit my sister’s family cabin on a lake in the Adirondacks of northern New York State.

I was excited to start actually painting outside the weekend of Tanglewood. I had a few hours between concerts. I set up my easel next to our camper van and got out the video I wanted to study from my favorite online teacher. But campground wi-fi was abysmal; the videos didn’t load. Even our Mi-fi took forever.

I gave up for that day and did some drawing.

Day two, I planned to work on a rough painting I’d started the previous summer. But when I sat in my camp chair to chat with my family, I promptly fell off the deck onto a pile of very sharp roots, nearly missing the circle of campfire stones! I didn’t notice the camp chair was perched on the very edge of the deck, with one leg unsteady, so when it toppled over with me on it, it was totally my fault.

The music, however, was outstanding.

We returned home early, me feeling even more frustrated about not moving ahead on painting. It was a good lesson, though. I am goal oriented and retreats are sometimes about giving up goals. I nursed my sore hip (grateful I hadn’t hit my head on the campfire rocks or broken anything). A few days passed, and I healed enough to pack for our second trip to the Adirondacks. It’s one of my homestead places on this planet, two of my novels are based there, and I’ve painted hundreds of scenes over the years of those particular mountains and lakes. I had high hopes of actually getting some outside painting time at last.

We arrived at our lake in pouring rain. The next morning was beautifully clear and I was excited to set up to paint on the big screened porch of the cabin. By midday, I knew another heat wave had swept in. Determined to paint anyway, I made ice cubes and a batch of fruit popsicles to help me stay cool. There was always the mountain lake, colder than you could imagine.

This is what I’d hoped for, although it took almost two weeks of my art challenge to manifest: uninterrupted time, painting outside, feeling totally immersed in my art. I even managed to have a few hours of magical flow where I lost track of everything but the painting process.

And on the edge of my awareness, even as I was swept into that flow, part of me was aware that I felt a tiny bit bored by what I was doing. I didn’t stop to analyze this, at the time. Realizations—good ones—came the next week.

I came away from our second vacation with three paintings in progress that I love. Halfway through my retreat, I could finally say I touched my art in a deep and mostly satisfying way.

What I took away from week two

Definitely got momentum week two, despite ouchy fall and bad heat.

Consistent painting practice (something every day!!).

I’m inspired by the landscape, I try new ideas: water reflections! Hard but fun. I give myself permission to make terrible art during that learning curve.

The second afternoon, I click into a flow that I always crave with writing and art—I forget where I am and stay immersed in painting for hours. Bliss.

Week three: new home routine

After our trip to the Adirondacks, I felt very satisfied with what I’d managed to do so far. I was definitely deep into my art again, despite that tiny (and growing) awareness that I needed something new that I couldn’t pinpoint. The art challenge was happening: I thought about the paintings constantly, and I was excited to get going each day.

But coming home means taking on all the responsibilities of home life that aren’t present when you’re on a trip—right? Especially true for women artists I know. When we arrived, there was laundry, grocery shopping, pet care, cleaning, and a thousand tasks in the garden. Home again didn’t automatically mean the painting continued to flow smoothly. I also wanted to paint outside, since I loved it so much from our trip. To make the rest of the month work for me, I needed to be in plein air, not in my studio.

But where? I’d gotten spoiled at the cabin, keeping my easel and paint box set up all the time on the screened porch. I wanted that ease and simplicity at home too. The biggest realization so far from my month was this: Location is vital to my continued practice of my art. I need air, light, and a view.

Before our trip, we’d finished some needed house painting on a small and sheltered side porch. It’s not used much except for storage but it had gotten run down. In a burst of energy we’d cleaned it out and my spouse painted the latticework. When we got home, I scouted for a sheltered outdoor location to set up my easel. The porch was perfect.

I painted almost every day, with this wonderful new setup. Not all day, like I had at the cabin, but enough to keep me quite satisfied.

What I took away from week three

I get a rhythm and routine that worked at home, outside, in the perfect spot.

I work on three more paintings, continuing my water reflections with what I learned at the lake. Got them to an almost-finished state and set them out to study and think about.

I studied a few tutorials from an online teacher I like. Especially on water reflections. New ideas and tips, practiced!

I really feel in the groove now, successfully transitioning my daily art to the home environment.

Week four: realizing next steps and creating an ongoing practice

Practice is everything to me, with my creativity. One reason I’ve written this newsletter for seventeen years! I believe all creators need a sustainable practice, and when we stall out, it’s because the practice needs revamping. Either the time, the location, the steps we take are no longer working for us. Or we’ve plateaued and need new inspiration.

My writing practice has always sustained me, but I worked for decades to get it so, adjusting and renewing as needed. This month was all about doing that with my art, but I didn’t know it at the start. I didn’t yet see what had stalled me out. I thought it was the lack of time, but really, it was much more complex.

The final week of my challenge, we were blessed with 70-degree days. Everything calmed down—the garden wasn’t constantly SOS-ing me for water, the harvest was up to date, and I could let the outdoors rest. I walked in the early morning, thinking about my painting. Then I painted on my little porch. By the end of week four, I had five paintings at an almost-finished stage.

Best of all, I no longer worried if I only painted for a short time any one day; I knew I was hooked into practice, I knew I’d get back to it. Because of the lovely weather, I could leave my easel set up and available any time I wanted to paint. I loved seeing my almost-completed work hung around the house.

A huge ah-ha for me: location mattered to my art practice! I am primarily a landscape painter, I paint outside where I can see the landscape and feel it entirely. Some plein air painters paint in winter; I’ve tried it, and it’s difficult. But thanks to my retreat, I now know the importance of where I paint. So that’s a question to be pondered and worked on in the next months as fall and winter arrive to New England.

What I took away from week four

The practice became more solid. Less fear of dropping it completely, even if I skip a day. More permission to “waste” time on reflection. Everything counts.

I feel completely pleased with the paintings I did, and I know they’ll get more attention as I get ideas on what else they need to be finished. I love the freshness of many of them, and that’s something I don’t want to overwork.

I’m completely comfortable with my outdoor painting setup on the road and at home now; I’ll try to carry this into my studio when it’s time. But I’m also newly aware that I’m very influenced by the space where I create. I found the perfect outdoor places to set up this month, so I painted regularly.

I came away from my 30-day art challenge with many joys and a couple of uncomfortable realizations. One was: I think the tiny hint of boredom is a sign I’m plateauing in my painting skills. I’m repeating what I already know more than venturing into new territory. I need a boost to the next level: a class, the online lessons I’ve tried to follow, something.

I also realized my indoor space, however incredible, is nowhere near as inspiring for me as the outside.

It’s always possible that immersion will reveal something that needs rethinking or reshaping. And that’s not a bad outcome at all.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

How does this post translate to your writing practice? Or any other creative activity you long to do more of? See if any of these “learnings” from my art month relate in any way to your creative practice, writing or otherwise.

Let us know in the comments below.

And if you joined me in the art challenge, what else could you add from your experience?

Warm-up time looks like wasting time but it’s internal work that helps me get my creative bearings before I start.

The right space, time, set up means everything.

A solid rhythm in practice makes less fear of losing the momentum. More trust that I’ll return easily to what I love.

There are going to be obstacles. It’s a given. How they are faced and moved past is the make or break. Allow for the delay or detour, then resume the practice.

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