I Took My Easel to the River in Stratford-upon-Avon…and This Happened

There’s a moment, just before you set up your easel in public, where you question your own sanity.

Brushes in hand. Paints laid out. People everywhere.

And a voice inside your head that says…“What on earth are you doing?”

That was me, standing by the river in Stratford-upon-Avon, about to start painting.

 

The hardest part isn’t the painting

It’s beginning.

The moment where you unpack everything and make yourself…wholly visible. Vulnerable.

There’s no hiding. No studio walls. No stepping back and closing the door.

Just you, your work, and anyone who happens to walk past — free to watch, to comment or to ask questions.

It takes more courage than I expected.

 

Then slowly you start to relax

Because once you begin, something quite lovely happens.

People talk to you.

They become curious, kind…even playful.

I had people stopping regularly to chat. Not in a way that felt intrusive, but genuinely friendly and interested. Encouraging.

At one point, a group drifting past in a boat called out across the water:

“Make sure you paint my good side!”

I couldn’t help but laugh and yes, one canoe did make it into the painting.

 

The reality (that no one tells you)

It’s not romantic.

It was freezing.

The sky was bright blue, the kind that looks deceptively warm, but my hands had other ideas. And when your hands stop working properly, painting becomes difficult.

There’s also the challenge of conversation.

As much as I enjoy talking to people, painting requires a different kind of focus. Holding both conversation and brush at once is harder than it looks. In the end, I finished the piece at home where I could fully concentrate.

 

Unexpected moments

Two different women asked if they could take my photo while I was painting.

Both of them later sent the photos on to me. Such a lovely, encouraging gesture.

And then there was the jogger.

He stopped, looked at the painting (still very much a work in progress), and said he’d buy it.

Moments like that make you feel on top of the World. 

 

Why I’ll keep going back

There's something great about painting like this.

You’re not only creating a painting, you’re creating it in real time with life happening around you.

The voices. The movement. The atmosphere. The weather!!!

All of it finds its way in, whether you realise it at the time or not.

And people feel that.

They connect with the moment it came from.

 

And this has to work

I won’t pretend otherwise.

I need this to translate into sales. Not someday, but now. With the cost of living skyrocketing, it'll be interesting to see who still buys art. I know that during Covid art sales went through the roof. People couldn't spend their money on going away and they wanted something to cheer them up. I wonder if that will apply here.

But standing there that day, by the river, I could feel my confidence grow.

People were stopping. Engaging. Asking questions.

Imagining the painting in their homes.

It was lovely.

 

And I’ll be out again tomorrow

Weather permitting.

Similar spot. Same easel.

A little less fear. A little more confidence.

And perhaps… another story waiting to unfold.

If you walk along the river in Stratford soon and see me, please do say 'Hi'.

And if one of these paintings catches your eye, don’t walk away and hope it’ll still be there later.

They rarely are.

Painted on location by the river in Stratford-upon-Avon — now ready to live in someone’s home. Browse the painting here