Plein Air, Passers By, and Pigeons…

​The first plein air painting outing of the year always feels like a fresh start, and this year began with the newly formed Jackson’s Art plein air group. On Friday, January 3rd, I rose in the dark, bundled up against a brisk -1°C, and made my way to Hampstead Heath, London. By the time we arrived, the temperature had climbed to a toasty 5°C—perfect weather for penguins or plein air painters. Despite the chill, the frost sparkled under a bright winter sun, and the intrepid few who turned up were ready to brave the elements.

I teamed up with Simon, who had his sights set on painting the Henry Moore bronze sculpture. With no firm ideas of my own, I decided the bronze was as good a subject as any.  As we trekked across the frosty heath, I congratulated myself on remembering gloves and layers but quickly regretted not bringing a seat. Standing for hours might be fine when you’re 20, but my arthritic left knee and occasionally grumpy back had other ideas.

Once I set up my easel, though, the magic of painting took over. Time and discomfort melted away as I became absorbed in the process. It’s amazing how painting can transport you—until you step back to assess your work and your body suddenly reminds you it’s not quite as young and sprightly as your spirit.

One of the unexpected joys of plein air painting is the conversations with passers-by. I used to be nervous about this, worried about being interrupted or judged. But now, I genuinely enjoy these moments. Most people are curious and wonderfully complimentary, and their kind words often provide an encouraging boost. Some even share their own artistic aspirations or fond memories of painting, which creates a lovely connection. It’s a reminder that art isn’t just about the work itself but also about the way it resonates with others.

After a couple of hours, I finished my piece and realized I was frozen solid (okay, maybe just my fingers, but it felt dramatic). I made a beeline for the cafe at Kenwood House, which, at that moment, felt like the coziest haven on earth. Sitting next to the radiator wasn’t just a preference; it was a necessity. I thawed out with a hot drink, my aches quietly reminding me that plein air painting isn’t just art—it’s endurance training.

Rather than venture back out for the afternoon session, I stayed in the café, perfectly content to trade my easel for a sketchbook. Pen and wash sketches kept my creative momentum going without requiring me to brave the cold again. Honestly, staying warm while sketching by a radiator felt like the kind of compromise that comes with age (though I’d like to remind you—I’m not that old).

At 3 pm, the group reconvened for a final meet-up. We posed for photos, shared our stories of the day, and exchanged ideas. Despite the aches and chills, there’s something deeply rewarding about plein air painting. Even though I treat these outings more like sketchbook exercises—experiments and studies rather than finished works—they’re a vital part of my creative practice.

My attention was drawn to a small group of pigeons taking the role of clean-up crew, busily scavenging cafe crumbs with the same focus and determination we’d brought to our painting. Watching their hustle reminded me of the simple joys of being present and resourceful - whether capturing a a scene on canvas or making the most of a bright winter’s day. Their antics added a playful note to an already memorable outing on the Heath.

The Jackson’s Art plein air group plans to meet every other month at different locations across the country, and I’m already looking forward to the next adventure. There’s something magical about painting outdoors, capturing a scene directly from life, engaging with curious passers-by, and (hopefully) remembering to bring a seat next time.

Here’s to more plein air adventures. What do your think about plein air painting in the winter? Please share your thoughts in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.