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Competitive Plein Air Festivals – a personal rumination

As I reflect on my journey as a painter, particularly a plein air painter, I realize there is a tension and a balance between action and contemplation, between risk-taking and a sense of well-being. I love to paint. I love to be out in nature. There are many ways a human being can enjoy nature – walking with a friend or a dog, birding, gardening, camping, and for me painting is especially fun. Painting combines the act of creating with the act of keen observation and quiet stillness. The stillness allows one small scene; one particular view of a landscape to open and reveal itself to you. I remember painting for over an hour near the Pebble Creek campground in Yellowstone National Park and suddenly finding a fox trotting within feet of me. He passed by so carelessly, that I could observe his face, his paws, and his quiet, bouncy gait. I know nature photographers often spend many hours waiting in stillness for their subjects to come out of hiding. I’d never have the patience for that. But this fox was a surprise gift who came by, while I was involved in something else. I was still and quiet enough for nature to resume its business. When I am absorbed in painting, I lose a sense of time. Impatience is not an issue. Painting is the avenue, the calming and joyful act that restores my connection to nature.

Being selected for a competitive plein air festival, either by invitation or jury, is affirming, but it is not calming. Stress for these events includes - driving far from home, painting in bad weather, living as a guest in someone else’s home, painting unfamiliar subjects (and BTW all of these things probably will turn out to be wonderful opportunities). And there is one more stressful aspect, one that occurs internally. It has been uncomfortable to see my work compared to and hanging beside some very talented, experienced painters. Fortunately, most painters are kind and generous with their less-experienced colleagues. Seeing the work of better painters, and talking to those painters about their backgrounds, education, and challenges is a great opportunity, and I have come to realize that all painters are striving to become even better.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly was the realization that these events are about cultivating relationships with art lovers. A plein air festival is about bringing artists and art directly to buyers. It is also about art sales financially helping the sponsor or host of the event. A percentage of your selling price will go to support the gallery or organization, and everyone is hoping for enthusiastic sales. In addition, there may be many volunteers and sponsors contributing time and financial support. Usually there are prizes, and substantial awards will attract top painters. Practically speaking, a festival combines exhibiting, commerce, education, entertainment, and community. It is an added layer of responsibility. Others are benefitting from your participation in lots of ways.

If you have gotten to this point in your journey, here are some questions you might ask yourself-

1. Can I be outgoing with an audience and “perform” while painting?
2. Can I remain confident in my practice, even if I don’t win a prize or sell any paintings?
3. Can I maintain my calm and joyful connection to nature during a competitive festival?

Question number three is really the essence of this self-examination exercise. For me, going through these scenarios helps me understand the goals of the artists, the sponsors, the hosts, the volunteers, and the community. And while I understand the expectations that others may have of me, after I am set up and surrounded by nature, after I have mixed the colors on my palette and done my thumbnail sketches, and after I have talked a bit to those who might be observing, I can find that inner joy again. All it takes is practice.