I thought it would be timely to share about a challenge I took part in at the beginning of the year that was hosted by a group of primarily young Russian artists: the 2022 Winter Plein Air Marathon. The premise was simple enough: paint outside for a minimum of five times between January 3 and 10, post your work on Instagram, and then have a shot at winning some art supplies from a variety of vendors.

I would’ve loved to take the whole week off to paint, but alas – work. So I only managed to get out five times, two of which were during the evenings after work. Those made for some pretty chilly nocturnal pieces, since the weather was in the single digits and snowy. However, I was buoyed by the images posted by people all over the world, especially in Russia. Looking like they were prepared for Arctic exploration, tromping through forests of snow-laden pines, tamping down the snow to create a workspace, freezing yet utterly joyful – it inspired me to push myself through the frustrations of stiff paint, icy fingertips, frosty brows, and difficult paint application.

Two of my marathon efforts, one from the car
and the other at the mercy of the elements

I was particularly moved and heartened by inclusivity, camaraderie, and shared love of being foolhardy people who voluntarily go out and freeze in the name of art. So often, in my travels abroad or interactions with visitors to the U.S., I’ve been treated with the understanding that my country and its politics are not me, which is especially gracious during the periods I’ve been so embarrassed or even ashamed by the state of the nation.

In January, as the U.S. and Russia were careening down an increasingly dangerous path toward confrontation, these lovely plein air artist, many of whom appeared to be art students at university, opened up their event to the entire world, regardless of political or national affiliation. And at the end, they even sent me a fantastic little thumb pochade box that I use with pride (I won, I guess? I’m not really sure how because the Instagram posts were all in Russian!).

My heart is heavy for the people of Ukraine. And also for everyone else, in Europe, Russia, and elsewhere, who doesn’t want war. In my lifetime, I’ve felt a sense of futility, being a citizen whose voice increasingly does not matter to those in power, and I imagine it’s even worse in autocratic countries. I can only hold on to the hope engendered by my favorite video posted during the marathon, from a Russian participant, I think: A man in military camo gear, strapping on not guns and weapons, but canvases and art supplies, and setting off through the snow on a bicycle (On a bicycle! In snow!) to go off into the wilds to paint – all to a soundtrack of very heroic music, of course. 

Some of my favorite pieces from the other participants.
I strongly recommend checking out their work.

Hello! Welcome to my first blog post. I thought it might be good to start with a self-intro, or more specifically, an explanation for why I’m so late in joining the blog and webpage party.

During pandemic lockdown, I scrabbled around for anything to keep me occupied, focused, and connected, and wound up using the time I would have used to commute to work as Art Time. I initially practiced figure drawing with videos from YouTube and also joined some friends for a weekly art night on Zoom, back when the novel sheen of Zoom had yet to wear off. Both of these were wonderful and inspiring endeavors and helped me feel connected to other humans. I was making daily "commute-time-equivalency drawings" and feeling really energized.

Two of my pandemic friends in oil

I was never really into social media, mostly to preserve my mental health. But my friend, the very talented graphic designer and digitally savvy Brien, suggested and finally persuaded me to make an Instagram account so I could share what I was working on with others. He framed it in a very non-threatening way: just make an account, write an intro like, “I’m Jennifer, I like to paint, here’s some of what I’m working on,” and then just post whatever with the goal of adding to the artistic community.

That sounded very doable, albeit scary, and it also set the bar very low. I didn’t have to go viral — all I had to do was toss something out into the void. (I realized later, I had been texting photos of my daily art to Brien, who is a very kind and thoughtful man. Getting me on Instagram was probably his way of getting me out of his hair. Well played, Brien. Well played … )

Commute-equivalency-time drawing

of a care package from my aunt

That was May 2020, so it has been almost two years on Instagram. And I can honestly say it has been an amazingly and surprisingly positive experience. The digital sphere I found is wonderfully positive and encouraging, especially considering we’re all a bunch of random strangers, and it has also kept me motivated to paint and be productive. I imagine this is what the idealists originally hoped social media would be: connecting like-minded people in supportive, online communities.

It has also been surprisingly inspiring and uplifting, in the sense that I have gained confidence in my art. As for many people, the pandemic has shifted my ideas of what’s important and what I want to be doing with this fragile lifetime. I dipped my toe into the artist’s life many years ago but, for various reasons, abandoned the hustle to pursue other ventures. While I kept painting on the side, and even incorporated it into my bachelor’s thesis, I never felt confident enough to test the waters again.

Only during the pandemic did I really throw myself back into painting. The combination of positive feedback I’ve gotten from people on Instagram and an offhand comment from a friend about doing this for a living has made me think maybe it’s time to try again. And working a full-time job gives me the security to make the initial steps while not having to fear destitution. After all, what have I got to lose? “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” because tomorrow we’re all going to die!

So I thought I’d give the website and blog thing a go for a year and see what happens. I’m not exactly sure what this blog will shape up to be, but I can say it will involve All Things Plein Air, probably nature things, maybe some art hacks for frugal people, and — unavoidably — random musings. If you have things you want to hear about, please let me know. Questions, comments, constructive criticisms … Lay it on me. Most importantly, thank you for reading!