Losing a day painting at the beach
Is there anything better than painting outside, especially in springtime?
No - there really is nothing better than painting outside, especially in springtime.
I took myself off to Mothecombe in the South Hams, Devon, for a day spent beside the sea in this glorious springtime sun we’ve been enjoying. I’d been so excited that I’d barely slept, springing out of bed early to catch the sunrise lighting up the fields as I arrived.
The trees were the first thing that felt different, so tall and with leaves only right at the top. I could feel the muscles in my hands bring the brush up the page in a tall sweeping motion as soon as I saw them.
Muscle memory and painting is a strong thing. I do it so much like a drummer finding the beat; I’ll paint with my hand in the air or on a surface next to me when I’m thinking through ideas.
Spring on the estuary – what a flirt. I loved the way all the flowering trees and hedgerows made the path into a tunnel, framing up the painting ready for me.
On days like this, time is limited and it’s important to make quick decisions. The gut always wins; what’s the most special about the scene?
Everything else falls away when I’m set up, all I can feel is the flow of mark making, it’s blissful.
The whole place was brimming full of marks. Tiny dandelions, curvy buttery yellow prim roses in the hedge row, stripey rocks, a beach spotted with pebbles huge near me and tiny far away. The fields over the other side of the estuary had hedges and trees in lines, the fields were rhombus shaped and there was a small wiggle of the water where it broke on the rocks and the shore. It was everything your eyes could ever want.
Part of the ritual of painting is making tea; inside or out. So I brought the camping stove and Katherine made me the best brew as I painted.
Tea tastes so much better on the beach. I’ve always thought part of the wonder of tea is where you drink it, it seems to take on the feeling of the place it’s in. We’d also brought raisins, biscuits and apple slices for sustenance, taking breaks to step back and look at the work while keeping the blood sugar topped up.
Rather than take the main path down to Mothecombe Beach, around the corner from the estuary, we decided to hike the South West Coast Path around the headland. Getting the studio easel, paints and canvases over the kissing gate was soon to be the least of our problems as the narrow dirt path rose steeply, criss-crossed by tree roots.
The physical effort of lugging the kit made the pauses to paint seem all the sweeter though, stopping to paint the glimpses of sea view between budding hedgerows and the twisted trees lining the path, bluebells about to erupt.
I may have come to Mothecombe to paint seascapes, but these trees and hedgerows were really hoarding my eye today.
Approaching Mothecombe Beach took several trips to cart the kit down the flight of steep steps, and I set up my easel at the back of the horseshoe-shaped sands on the dunes to capture the whole panorama.
I had a wide board for this piece which seemed perfect, so I could take in the tree-topped headland, include the beautiful stone-built beach house, the rockpools and the green of the fields gazing on.
Despite the great snacks and tea, stomachs were rumbling by now and I’d run out of canvases, so after adding some more oil pastel to the drying works, we headed back up to the village. The pizzas at the School House was excellent, and just the ticket after a long morning spent lost in painting – in the best possible way of course.
Bouncing back for Rootle
I think that knowing I would be bouncing back to Mothecombe a couple of days later helped me leave that day. Jack and I had been invited to Rootle Supper Club, an evening of delicious locally-produced food hosted by our pals Will and Olivia.
Of course I had to arrive early to get some more drawing in from the old stable block before our meal.
Rootle is that feeling of what we’ve lost, it’s the opposite of screen time.
It’s new people, it’s friends, connection, it’s nutrition both physically and emotionally. Seeing the chef talk about the menu and meeting the people who bred the animals and grew the produce talk before hand is so powerful, and I think that’s because their passion is so palpable.
On the way home Jack and I discussed how much we adored the different courses, and as a couple just feel more aligned for the experience. It’s a place to drop everything at the door and really just be together eating good food and meeting interesting people.
The Mothecombe Collection consists of 12 works, completed at Mothecombe, South Devon, or back at Emily’s studio on Dartmoor. Details of the collection can be found here – please enquire through WhatsApp or email us at info@emilypowellstudio.com for pricing and availability.
Looking forward to seeing the collection 30th April. Love your work.
What a beautifully described painting getaway - thank you Emily.