The Daily Art Logs
Notes from a daily creative practice.
For years I’ve longed to be one of those artists who paints plein air with ease—setting up outside, brushing beauty onto a panel as the breeze carries away all pressure. But life (small children, time, logistics) made that dream feel distant. And now that I can do it, I’ve realized: it’s harder than it looks. 😅
Today I finally stepped outside with my acrylics—my medium of choice lately for their texture and vibrancy—and tried to see what would happen. 💫
Even though I stayed close—just my garden—it still took three trips up and down the stairs to carry my minimalist setup. That in itself was revealing: minimal doesn't always feel minimal in practice. Still, I gathered:
🎨 My main acrylic palette
🎛️ A mixing surface
🖌️ A few brushes
💧 Water container
🧻 Cotton fabric (a reusable paper towel alternative)
🗒️ A couple of surfaces—scrap paper and an acrylic block
I started with a quick piece, combining things I saw around me—trees, shadows, house shapes—into a made-up composition. It was part plein air, part invention. I didn’t love the result, and the process felt uncertain. But it was honest. I did it. ✅ That counts.
Then I turned to a more abstract piece. My goal? To explore how I actually feel about the balance of warm and cool colors—because I keep noticing that a perfect 50/50 split doesn’t sit well with me. So I tried muting colors slightly, dirtying up that pure acrylic brightness. Again, not love at first sight, but I felt a shift: I was thinking like a painter, not just reacting. 🧠🎨
As I reflected on my second piece, I saw clearly that I’m craving warmth—in palette, in tone, in emotion. The painting was feeling more resolved the moment I tipped the balance toward warm dominance.
And that led me to a decision: I want to create a limited six-color palette + white, using a split primary system (cool/warm versions of yellow, red, blue). But I already hear myself wondering, what about yellow ochre? 🤔 That’s okay. Curiosity means I'm alive to the process. 🌱
I stayed outside and pushed further, creating what became the highlight of the day: a playful, stylized composition pieced together from things I saw around me. It features a cat-like shape, trees, a red roof—all arranged intuitively and with joy. I consciously made the palette at least two-thirds warm, and something clicked. 🎯
Even more exciting: I recognized and fully embraced my own method—what I call the “rainbow method.” 🌈 In this approach, each color lives in its own zone, with minimal repetition across the canvas. It creates visual harmony and structure in a way that feels deeply “me.” 🧡💚💙
Before I wrapped up, I revisited the earlier abstract and blocked in more warm zones. It immediately felt better—more cohesive, more emotionally resonant. It’s not finished, but it’s finally headed somewhere.
Plein air doesn’t have to be about the scene—it can be about the feeling of being outside. 🌳
Setting limits (like a 6-color palette) can unlock freedom. 🎛️
I need warmth. Not just in color, but in spirit. 🔥
My “rainbow method” is more than a habit—it’s a language worth developing. 🗣️🎨
I don’t have to love every painting. But I love where I’m going. 🛤️💛
This was a good day. Not because every painting was perfect, but because I felt momentum, clarity, and joy. That’s all I could ask for. 🌟
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