“On the Road with Canvas and Easel”: European Adventures of a Traveling Plein Air Artist

Grand Canal, Venice, Italy April - May 2024

“Ciao!” Greetings! My paint pack and I have traveled in time and have landed in old world Venice, Italy to paint Plein Air and live as the Italian Artists live. Our home base is normally in Central Montana, just far enough East of Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) to be out of the wake of tourists. The journey from rural Montana to our BED AND BREAKFAST VENICE - CASAMIMMA had included no less than 8 days, three flights, five trains, two buses, three water taxis, a long walk, and an entire bag of cinnamon gummy bears.

The first 24 hours in Europe were at best inspirational and at worst, more than a little sketch.

Central London from the air

My art mentor Laurie and I flew from Denver on British Airways, what a delight, they treated us like first class even in coach. We debated for weeks if we would use our 6 hour layover in London to visit the city or take a nap in the airport spa. We spent all our time researching Italy and arguing about itinerary resulting in neither of us studying much about local landmarks in London beyond interrogating our poor seat mate the entire 11 hour flight. He assured us it would be “a lovely day for an afternoon stroll downtown London. Just hop on the tube.” I believe now that this casual advice was actually his revenge for our making his long flight longer with our questions.

Entrance to “the TUBE”

Just “hopping on the tube” felt like a MUCH worse decision the further we got from our connecting flight gate.

This was the first of many tests that made us imagine ourselves to be a part of Amazing Race, Lost Americans Edition. We did eventually figure out the tube is the subway, and that there is no ticket for entrance into the subway. You are just required to tap a credit card at a check point. Each passenger required their own credit card and somehow your credit card would know how much to charge you when you tap it again to buy your way off of the subway. We made OUR underground connection, or A connection anyway, but as we got further and further from the airport we chickened out, worried we would run out of time or our credit card would not be able to afford to buy our way off the train, and just popped up at a random stop at City Center. There were tourists congregated across the park and in the square. It looked pretty safe. We spotted a Ferris Wheel we suspected to be famous, and possibly Big Ben or at least a large clock, off in the distance. We made our way along this long path through a lush park, right in the heart of the city. We took a picture for Laurie’s husband James at the sign for “St James Park.” Clearly this was a promenade, or we were going to treat it that way anyway, so we stopped for tea at a food truck and made a big deal about sipping tea along the promenade in London. We hoped the queen would notice.

St James Park, Tyburn River.

We walked quickly, mostly from adrenaline, toward the buzzing tourists at the end of the promenade. We stopped to take photos of a CASTLE on the Tyburn river, what!?!?, I think Shakespeare wrote about this. We looked but didn’t find any signs that we recognized. We exited the park through golden gates, that resembled a portal, and shined brilliantly in the afternoon sun.

I checked my watch. Again. So paranoid of missing that flight. My watch still showed Montana time, 3am. I did the math, 3 hours 45 minutes before our flight to Italy. Still enough time to investigate why so many people were taking selfies with that statue on the other side of the square. Maybe it would be a statue of Harry Potter. It was the Victoria Memorial. We took selfies anyway. (It was quite spectacular)

The thing about taking selfies is that you face what is behind you. This is a good practice no matter what continent you are on. What was behind us was the . Royal Residences: Buckingham Palace | The Royal Family That should have been more obvious.

My easel and canvas were calling out from my backpack…”When will you ever have a chance to Plein Air Paint in London again?” Oh this is painful! I told my paints to hush, we had just enough time to snap a selfie with the royal guard, duck back into the tube toward Heathrow airport, make OUR underground connection (for sure the right one this time), get a thorough pat down from European security, and catch the last plane into Venice Italy of the night. We boarded directly behind Cruella De Vil (or maybe her doppelgänger) and her entourage, each of which carried the maximum amount of carry-on, all of which belonging to Cruella. The pilot made his way back in the cabin to help balance the luggage and to scold Cruella for “packing too much!” Cruella and the captain proceeded to have an epic argument in Italian. “Fantastico!” Outstanding! This felt authentic!

Grand Canal, Venice Italy April 2024

Wheels down and 32 hours awake, we immediately had to fist fight with an Italian self-service machine, to secure bus tickets. We think. We bought something at least, and took the last bus of the night from the airport to the water bus port. The bus driver did not care that our bus tickets did not scan. The only way to get to our Airbnb Casa Mimma was by boat or a very long walk to the Rialto Bridge and then a very long walk back to our neighborhood. We were on the opposite side of the Grand Canal from where we needed to be. Google maps was busy “re-routing” so we bought a boat ticket, from a local agent. So glad to not have to fist fight another self-service machine, we asked for specific instructions. It was late and we were very tired. She directed with an eye roll and a sharp point to go sit at Platform A, at the end of the pier, and wait for Line 1. Our luggage had already seen many miles that day, what was a few more steps. We walked to the dark end of the pier. We waited at Platform A as boat after boat passed by. We wondered if that red light on the dock meant this pier was closed. It did indeed mean that. An hour and several minutes were lost before we made our way to an active platform and caught a boat traveling the Grand Canal. We went straight to the back of the boat to be in the open air and celebrate! Venice at night from the water! Bellisimo!

Grand Canal from Water Bus

As it happens, Venice’s football team won a big match that night and there was a great deal to celebrate. The streets were full of singing and the water busses filled to capacity with intoxicated revelers. We missed our stop due to politeness. Pushing and shouting “scusa” is actually the common practice for getting off of a crowded water bus and would later become much more natural to me as my time in Europe progressed.

We got off on the next stop and waited, then took the next water bus that came going in any direction. Another rookie mistake. We rode to the end of the line and had to get off. Now we were starting to worry. With luck we caught the last water bus of the night going in the correct direction. I showed a picture of my stop to the captain. Waived it in his face actually. He insisted I wanted a busier stop but I begged and he relented letting us off at our requested Riva de Biasso.

The ancient Italian world is much more special, precious, genuine, and beautiful then even my active imagination could have dreamed. We had landed in another time, another place, it was magnificent and like nothing we had ever seen! We soon realized there were no other people or open businesses in this quiet, off the beaten path, old world neighborhood we had specifically booked. We were the only ones on the busy water bus to get off at Riva de Biasso. The only option was sitting at the dock until sunrise or trying the long dark narrow passage from the water bus stop to the interior of the maze of seemingly endless long dark passages.

Interior Venice at Night

This is the moment I discovered my painting mentor Laurie and myself to have a deep fear of long dark passages in foreign countries. After a great deal of discussion and self motivation we took the passage. I am lucky to have such a bold and fierce travel companion.

There were motion detector lights that would come on as we passed, but the signs were small, infrequent, and mostly in Italian. There was nobody to ask for directions and no taxi to call, as there are no cars in interior Venice. That sounded more fun in the brochure. The water bus had stopped running for the night, we didn’t even know the emergency number to call the polizia, and in any case our phones did not have service enough to make a call. We wandered around in circles, lost in the dark, like a bad dream, for what felt like eternity but was actually only until about 2:30 am. Venice time or according to my watch 7:30 pm Montana Time. The desperation began to build. We were out of cinnamon gummies.

My mentor scared off a pack of young revelers with a HEARTY scream. Effective self-defense class maneuvers coming in handy. Better to be alone than surrounded. I mistook the emergency fire break box for a button you should RIP OFF THE WALL, wires included, effectively disabling our only chance to call for help. We prepared ourselves to wander the streets until dawn, hoping we could find our way back to the pier and at least break out our Plein Air paints to keep us occupied, if not safe, on our first night in Europe. If we are going down, we are going down painting!

Find out what our brave artist heroines do next in “Waking up in Venice”; European Adventures of a Traveling Plein Air Artist

“Waking up in Venice Italy”: Adventures of a Traveling Plein Air Artist

Grand Canal After “After Party” is over

The last time we checked in with our heroines

desperation had begun to build.

We were out of cinnamon gummies.

My mentor had scared off a pack of young revelers with a HEARTY scream. Effective self-defense class maneuvers coming in handy. Better to be alone than surrounded. I mistook the emergency fire break box for a button you should RIP OFF THE WALL, hulk smash style, wires included, effectively disabling our only chance to call for help. We prepared ourselves to wander the streets until dawn, hoping we could find our way back to the pier and at least break out our Plein Air paints to keep us occupied, if not safe, on our first night in Europe. For Peets sake my husband had warned me about just this situation. I absolutely could not allow him to be RIGHT about THIS! If we are going down, we are going down painting!

Looking around desperate and wild eyed, I noticed somebody awake and watching us, from behind a desk, of a fancy looking but closed hotel. I banged on the glass. He was not impressed. We both banged on the glass. He came to the door and we let ourselves in. Already the manners I had when I landed in Europe were long gone. He did not speak English. We spoke just enough Italian for him to understand we were plenty spooked and unlikely to leave without a fight. I was prepared to camp in the lobby until morning. With great trepidation he rented us a room, the executive suite, at 300 Euro ($400) from current time 2:30 am until checkout 9 am. We would have paid any price. We settled in, took showers, plugged in our phones, hugged each other, checked in as safe with our family. We may have even slept a couple hours.

As I opened my eyes to face my first day in Venice I wasn’t sure I would be able to safely live and paint here as I had intended to do. I unplugged my phone, glad to see my adapter had done its job, checked in with my husband as “made the night.” took a deep breath and threw open the shades. Oh! Well…Love at first sight. I may not be able to force myself to leave this place when it is time. I live here now and my heart will long to return here for all of the rest of my days.

Our Garden

We spotted our hostel garden directly below our veranda but we even from a birds eye view the maze from where we were to where we needed to be seemed impossible. When we checked out our temporary hotel manager called our hostel and had a LONG conversation in Italian before he agreed to come get us.

With every step toward our hostel I fell deeper and deeper in love with Venice. I understand now why so much art, music, and culture, come from Italy and why artists are drawn here still. It is a unique space created by artists, preserved by artists, and inhabited by artists.

There are three art colleges in Venice and it is quite in style to be a benefactor to an artist or musician, so the list of exhibits and performances happening in large scale and small at any given time seems endless.

The locals say it is very safe in Venice because it is an island, surrounded by a moat and there is no place for a criminal to run away to. We did indeed make the night without incident.

The people are kind and happy. The streets are a cobblestone maze surrounded by water. There are no cars here, the local children play soccer in the plaza in real life, no screens, there are artists and musicians at every turn. Hanging laundry on the line and growing your own food in a windowbox garden is the norm. Wifi is free city wide and is my connection to my loved ones and this blog.

We are living here for weeks but I am already a bit sad there won't be enough time to paint everything I wish to remember. The further I venture from modern life the happier my soul feels.

Today we Plein Air Paint the canals of Venice!

“Today we Paint the Canals of Venice” : European Adventures of a Plein Air Painter

Biassio Plaza

Ciao! We woke this morning to the melody of church bells and the laughter of young children playing soccer in the nearby plaza.

Capuchino and Croissants for Madame in the Garden

Our host brought us croissants and americanos in the garden for breakfast. We then strolled amongst the tourists through an ancient maze of shops, cafes, churches, basilica, and plazas in the sunshine taking pictures and marveling with the tourists.

Our Italian Grandma

We met a mask maker who beckoned us behind the counter to share her art with us. She spoke very little English and us not nearly enough Italian but we all agree we love eachother and will stop to visit often.

Gelato Stand in our neighborhood

We could not resist an icy lemon gelato to cap off the day and this is where we befriended a photographer from Chicago who admired our paintings and we his photos. He offered to take our photo by the Grande Canal. What a treat. We stopped long enough to buy a lacy parasol to protect us from the sun at the suggestion of a savvy shop keeper before finally making it back to our hostel to pick up our painting packs.

By the Canal with the Chicago Photographer

Our painting materials now in hand we headed back out to create art in the street. Exposing our artistic process for all of Venice to see. It feels equal parts exhilarating and terrifying to open up my easel, in this place, at this time, in front of this crowd. Oh boy! This is what we came for.

As soon as my brush touches paint to canvas the anxiety renames itself creative energy. Pain becomes relief. Blocking out my surroundings becomes focus. Crowds come and go. I forget to look over my shoulder to see who is watching. Laurie and I giggle when strangers ask for selfies with us and our art when there is so much beauty around to photograph. Though Laurie with her magnificent art and me with my fist full of paintbrushes do make a picture worthy spectacle.

One of the best parts about Plein Air Painting is how many people cheer you on. Universally people enjoy watching the artistic process. By the time the light began to fade we were plenty proud of our paintings, many passer-bys from all over the world had stopped to praise us and connect to our social media.

We felt so brave that we walked our still wet paintings right inside the studio of a local artist because we liked his work so much.

All 7 feet of him greeted us with a smile and grace. His beard nearly touched the floor of his studio and I couldn’t help noticing the resemblance to Gandolph the Great. He liked my work and asked me if I was a teacher. He told me “an artist must be part of a team. Like a football player, an artist cannot achieve her highest ambitions alone. She must share and learn with her team. “ The ancient artist, as I am calling him, was a fourth generation artist who lived and worked in the Venician studio we stood in just as his grandfather before him and the grandfather before that. His words of wisdom and his booming voice have stuck with me on repeat. This experience alone was worth the cost of the ticket.

It was dangerously close to dark now, and we had already our fill of after dark wandering in the streets of Venice, so we rushed straight back to our hostel, waited our turn for the bathroom that we shared with the rest of our floor, took a shower in the SMALLEST bathroom imaginable, and fell fast to sleep not even knowing that tomorrow we would find the portal!

Keep Reading and find out what our heroines do when they find “The Portal” : European Adventures of a Plein Air Painter.

“The Portal”: European Adventures of a Plein Air Painter.

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.