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Monday Morning Art School: can you paint in winter?

It was way below zero; the rough texture is because my oil paints froze; it was also cold enough for my battery to die. And of course I was out of cellphone range.

I’m being chased home to Maine by wind, rain and occasional snow; that means winter is just around the corner. Beginning plein air painters often wonder, can you paint in winter? Sure, if you take simple precautions.

Watercolor

Everyone knows that you can keep your paint water from freezing by adding vodka. The problem with vodka solutions isn’t getting the paint on the paper; it’s getting it to set up once it’s there. Alcohol evaporates faster than water. If you use vodka, expect softening as the painting warms up.

With watercolor in winter, you’re best off avoiding fine washes.

Ocean saltwater freezes at a 28.4°F. On a sunny winter day, that might be all the boost you need. The more salt you add, the lower the freezing temperature, but remember that salt is hygroscopic and changes the texture of watercolor paintings.

My palette and water basin are plastic, which cools more slowly than metal. Wrap them in an old scarf and slip a chemical handwarmer underneath. Bring hot water in a thermal flask and add it bit-by-bit to keep your water liquid. Don’t leave your brush standing wet in the cold; the bristles will freeze. If you can, keep them in your jacket pocket.

The problem with cold is not freezing so much as that nothing ever dries. Avoid sloppy wet washes and don’t overload your brush.

I was thinking of buying a cordless hair dryer, but Richard Sneary told me that in his opinion they’re not effective. “You’re better off getting in your car and turning up the heat,” he told me.

Of course, watercolor is compact enough that you can often paint from your car.

I was very grateful on this day for Eric Jacobsen’s wood fire.

Acrylics

The short answer is, just don’t. Acrylics need a minimum temperature of 50°F to cure properly. In extreme cold, acrylic paints become brittle and can crack.

Oils

The answer to “can you paint in winter” is always yes for oils.

While oil paint becomes stodgy as it gets colder, its linseed oil base doesn’t freeze until the temperature drops below -10°F. Odorless mineral spirits don’t freeze at all. That means oil paint can be handled through conditions that fox all other mediums.

I painted this years ago while waiting for my kid to finish swim practice. It’s long gone, but the photo always reminds me of that time.

Taking care of the artist

I hate cold feet and hands, so I wear insulated, waterproof snow boots when painting outdoors. Others stand on a scrap of carpet or cardboard. I slip handwarmers into the backs of my gloves. My buddy Eric Jacobsen carries around a small brazier in which he lights a scrap-wood fire.

I used to wear overalls, but they’re too cumbersome. Now I wear a waterproof, windproof jacket with layers underneath.

Consider working from a seated position. The closer you are to the ground, the less you’ll be buffeted by the wind. The best location is a sheltered, sunny corner. Work in short bursts to avoid hypothermia, and bring something hot to drink.

Winter is a great time to practice park-and-paint, but don’t forget to wear a high-vis vest and bring traffic cones.

Your car

I’ve killed my car battery in extreme cold, and I’ve gotten stuck in the slush on the side of the road. Inevitably, that happens when I’m out of cell phone range.

If you don’t already have one, get one of these little car starters and learn to use it. A high visability vest and traffic cones are important anytime you’re painting along the roadside, but especially in low-light situations.

Special online plein air show

Work from the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival is available in their special exhibits gallery and online here. I’ll have more to say on the subject later this week, but for now enjoy browsing!

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

Old Wyoming Homestead

Old Wyoming Homestead, 9×12, oil on archival canvasboard, $696 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“I’m not painting out there,” Jane Chapin announced with finality. “If you want to, you can do it, but I am not joining you.”

I have form at dragging her out to paint in winter, but this trip I had no such plans. It dropped below 0° F last night here above Cody, WY, and predictions are for it to drop below -20° F by the weekend. That’s the kind of weather that freezes the hair inside your nostrils and causes spare parts to drop off.

I painted Old Wyoming Homestead, above, when Jane and her husband had just bought Bull Creek Ranch. It wasn’t until this visit that I realized that the structure is in fact a three-hole outhouse.

The territorial house, c. 1915.

The real territorial house, above, was built in 1915. When Jane and Roger bought the ranch, the territorial house was at a crossroads. Much more time weathering and it would collapse. They have spent the intervening years rebuilding it. They’ve made a few refinements, the most notable being electric lights. It still has a wood stove and no indoor plumbing.

“What are you planning on doing with it?” Roger was asked. He shrugged and said he didn’t know.

The old log barns are not doing as well.

Bull Creek, which runs behind the outhouse, is still a pass for grizzlies (who are hopefully sleeping in this wicked cold weather). There are still wolves here, and mountain lions, drawn by the mule deer, hares, and other easy prey. Domestic pets can’t roam or they’re supper.

Imagine living on this hillside on a cold autumn evening, the wind whistling down the pass. Your children need the privy, but you’re not sending them there alone. It’s no wonder that the outhouse has three holes; it was a family affair.

Note the toddler-sized potty chair on the right.

The territorial house has been my dream home since I first laid eyes on it. Roger and Jane are to be commended for stabilizing it for future generations. This is a part of our history that, once lost, can never be reclaimed.

The rest of this post will be photos of the surrounding landscape. Enjoy!

This is the original cabin. The territorial house was built in front of it.
The beautiful, spikey topography is tough going even on foot.
View across the outhouse and Bull Creek.
This is the root cellar; it’s intact and could be used tomorrow.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: