Plein Air painting has become a popular pursuit – ‘the new golf’ as Eric Rhoads describes it. But, Plein Air painting is tough to master. I’ve been painting on location for almost 40 years and I still struggle to capture all the nuances and beauty I see. In this oil painting tutorial, I will share with you 9 steps involved in painting a river scene. I spent two afternoons painting on-site and finished the third day in my studio because we ended up with a week of pouring rain.

Let’s jump into the 9 steps I used to paint a river and a railroad bridge, including some of the struggles and discoveries that came as I painted. At the end of this art instruction, I will share my Plein Air journey and a fast-motion video with you.


* If you’re passionate about Plein Air painting, and want to continue learning past these 9 steps, I recommend continuing your training in the East Coast Plein Air Experience. The training includes this painting as well as 2 others, 12 hours of professional instruction, application challenges to increase learning, and other helpful resources. You can learn more about the training HERE.


Plein-Air Painting a River and Bridge in 9 Steps

Plein Air Painting Step 1

My primary goal in the early stages is to capture the large color and value shapes, and position them compositionally so they guide the viewer effortlessly around the painting. Detail at this stage is not important. Notice the absence of any type of overall toning color – nope, no particular reason I didn’t tone the panel first – it might have sped up the process had I done so, and with all the blues and greens everywhere, a wash of transparent oxide red or orange would have been a nice harmonizing backdrop. You might want to experiment with that – come to think of it, I may need to revisit this spot and experiment myself.

Plein Air Painting Step 2

Late evening light shifts so quickly values are difficult to pin down. I decided I better place some of the form shaping shadows in the trees, water and grasses before they blended too seamlessly into a twilight flattened scene. I was interested in the saturated colors of early evening while also maintaining some strong contrast of light and shadow.

The largest shadow under the right bank of trees needed to be wiped off so I could paint a much darker and warmer shadow than I began with. Since the light source was warm sunlight, my direct cast shadows would be on the cooler side, but the deeper shadows under the trees would be the result of filtered ambient cave like light which creates much warmer shadows. That was as far as I got the first day.

Plein Air Painting Step 3

With a fresh eye and the basic structure of the painting in place at the start of the second evening, I could observe some nuances and value structures I didn’t see in the faded light the night before. So, I scraped off some paint and texture that I thought might interfere with my adjusted thinking about the direction of the painting. Surprisingly, most of the paint had dried, leaving only a few spots of cad yellow still wet.

I like to paint alla prima because wet-into-wet offers me a wealth of blending options – which is why I paint with oils. The dried paint wasn’t too much of a hindrance however since I generally reserve the thicker paint application for the final stages, and that new paint would give me plenty of blending choices.

Plein Air Painting Step 4

You can see here that I quickly punched up the color and contrast. I love, love, love sunlight slanting through water – the colors are mesmerizing. The warm yellowish glow in the middle right water was mixed using some Michael Harding quinacridone red, transparent oxide orange and cad yellow medium and lemon. I am also playing with bright lavender and white rapids to give movement to the water. With all the fun I was having with the water, I failed to notice a large circular shape swirling near the left bank that needed to be broken up.

Plein Air Painting Step 5

The brown egg shape was now gone, but a new formidable force emerged. For some reason, I struggled with repetitive patterns in this painting – finding them everywhere from start to finish. You can see in the trees the identical size and treatment of the 3 color shapes positioned like dominoes ready to topple the success of my painting. In the water two ripples and a rock form an awkward line cutting the river in half.

Small shape patterns and large besieged me constantly – I would eliminate a small bright dot from a square of 4 dots and realize I had created some other obvious shape that demanded too much attention from the viewer. We can get so caught up in the thrill of color changes and dazzling details that we miss the geometric shapes or repetitive patterns we create. That’s when it’s nice to have a mirror behind us or a friend who can point them out to us.

By this point, the light was so far gone I was struggling to see anything clearly and knew I would start making major mistakes if I didn’t head home.

Since the rain was falling in buckets the next day, the rest of the painting was completed indoors.

Plein Air Painting Step 6

Yep, my outdoor palette is sitting on my studio palette. I could easily mix the same colors from scratch, but my paint was still wet and I saw no reason to let a perfectly good set of color mixtures go to waste – at least until I ran out of room for new mixtures.

Here I began to alter the trees.  Happily, I quickly saw the arrow quiver I was forming with the lighter green color in the upper right corner (Step 5), so I shifted gears and broke up that shape fast as well as the repetitive color shapes.

Plein Air Painting Step 7

I made great headway in getting the structure of the bridge painted – and then thunder boomed ominously overhead – the bridge wasn’t going to work. The top of the bridge was too close to where the frame edge would be which would be a very annoying tangent. I either needed to enlarge the bridge so it would go right off the top of the painting, or shrink it so there would be plenty of room below the lip of the frame so the bridge wouldn’t feel crowded.

The smaller version appealed to me as it felt more intimate and would help the river and the trees feel relatively larger. The top of the bridge had some thicker paint that was already drying – I scraped it with a palette knife to eliminate any lines that might show later through the sky and cloud colors. Shrinking the bridge meant I also had to invent some modifications that would work with the new dimensions. That took quite a bit of drawing with paint and scraping off periodically when something didn’t look natural.

Plein Air Painting Step 8

The bridge is close to the finish line. The rusting, weathered patina of the metal seemed magical to me – painting it was definitely a magical moment. I went back and forth between greyed down blues and dirty oranges and yellows to produce the patina. The thin shadows on the edge of the metal beams are what give the structure it’s 3-dimensional quality – although, I don’t want those shadowed edges to be hard and solid from top to bottom since the bridge is quite a ways from where I was painting.

At that distance, I can easily see the structure and some of the details, but the atmosphere here in humid Indiana will affect the clarity of edges. So, I took my palette knife and roughed up the edges here and there which added nicely to the weathered look and helped the bridge fit back into the distance more naturally.

Plein Air Painting Step 9

Here, at the final stage of the painting, I noticed a few areas that bothered me (and Kristie). I still needed to break up that line in the river I mentioned earlier; the group of rocks was too heavy and didn’t allow a gentle flow through the water; and that beautiful architectural wall at the top of the grasses on the left side that seemed to compliment, while on location, the distant bridge, was neither beautiful or complimentary in my painting. Kristie pointed out that it was so strong and bright that it pulled her attention to it.

So, I scraped down the paint and left ambiguous remnants that added a compliment to the colors in the distant bridge, but were unobtrusive enough to not distract the viewer. I also scraped away some of the rocks in the water to break up the dam and allow the water to flow unencumbered and the viewer’s eye to travel happily up the river. The light greenish-blue brush stroke on the right, as well as one of the white reflective sparkles, were modified to break up the distractive patterns.

I was left with one more area that I was dissatisfied with – the lower-left corner. While I enjoyed the brush textures and colors, it felt too disheveled for an area so close to the viewer. Instead of starting from scratch though, I used one of my mongoose rounds and with a swift diagonal movement gently blended areas of color together to form a saturated middle-value backdrop that I could place some brighter strokes on top of to form grasses and other plants – using much less directional change and texture than before.


My Plein Air Painting Journey

The Early Days

Plein air painting, or outdoor painting, has been a consistent part of my art career since the mid-’80s, and I struggle as much or more today as I did when I first ventured outside with my paints. That isn’t to suggest that I haven’t learned anything in 35 years – my skills have certainly expanded and I can capture aspects of the landscape today that I didn’t think to look for then. Experience doesn’t make it easier for me though because my goals and expectations have also expanded.

That, I believe, is the reason painting is a lifelong pursuit. It remains challenging and engaging even as our mastery multiplies because our vision experiences a compounding effect – the more we paint the more we see, and our newly enhanced view intensifies our desires to share what we see with others – which in turn requires increasingly heightened abilities to convey our broadened vision elegantly.

Plein air painting at Glacier National Park in 1989 with umbrellas in the rain. If the canvas looks odd it’s because my dad and I stretched our own canvases and didn’t staple the extra canvas to the backside – if I look odd, well that’s the 80’s for you!

Reading and studying are part of my daily routine – at least an hour a day. One of the culminating realizations produced by consuming thousands of instructional books, DVDs, podcasts and videos is that the products we love and that make our lives comfortable and convenient, that beautify our homes and enrich our experiences, are not generally never-before-seen, groundbreaking or revolutionary. They are simply incremental improvements and modifications of existing thoughts, movements, practices and products.

We don’t need to reinvent the painting wheel.

Studying the old and new masters and immersing ourselves in paint and canvas, whether in the studio or out on location, is the quickest way to master the craft of landscape and floral painting and produce what just might become one of the incremental expansions of the already breathtaking array of masterworks found throughout the world.

Richard Schmid plein air painting – helping one of the other painters 2004


William Merritt Chase painting demo late 1890’s

My hope is that sharing experiences I have as an artist will inspire and inform your ideas so that you can then improve and build upon what I have accomplished. Of course, I will then hope you share what you have discovered so I can learn from you!

Preparing for, Filming, and Painting a River Plein Air

Filming my painting process adds a lot of complication to the whole experience.

I haven’t used an umbrella for a couple of decades, preferring to paint with the light source (the sun) right on my painting and palette. Why? Mainly because umbrellas are inconvenient – they take time away from what I really want to do which is paint. They also catch gusts of wind when I don’t expect it. Seeing my easel take flight is never a welcome surprise.

Going without an umbrella normally works out great. You can see in my photo below how beautiful it is to have the light consistent across my painting, my palette and the landscape I’m trying to capture.


Plein air painting at Point Loma with the sun at my back

Unfortunately, as you can see in the photo below, I learned the hard way that having the sun on my panel when I’m filming isn’t always the best option. 

During our cross-country painting excursion last March I discovered that just because I can see my canvas perfectly doesn’t mean the camera can. Once we got home and I started editing the videos to share with our art community, I found more glare than painting staring back at me. All of the footage I took in Carmel, California for an instructional video was ruined by the glare of the light on my panel.

Plein air painting in Carmel, California across from Point Lobos. The glare in the film was not visible to me while I painted.

So, for the filming of this river scene, I bought a large 7-foot photography umbrella that would cover both my painting and palette at the same time. It worked great for about 15 seconds until a tiny gust of wind toppled it over the river bank and snapped the hollow shaft near the top. I, in turn, snapped one of my smaller Rosemary brushes in half to splice the shaft together and used some twine to jerry-rig the umbrella so it would remain open and shield my painting from glare.

My jerry-rigged photo umbrella during the filming of Plein Air Indiana East Coast Experience. This excursion also gave me a great opportunity to continue experimentation with the “Happy Painting Palette” Michael Schlee designed for me.

You can probably imagine my disappointment when I discovered I had set my supplies on a strategically placed patch of poison ivy. Such are the travails of outdoor painting. Fortunately, like many of you know already, the hardships of Plein Air painting pale in comparison with the joys of painting while surrounded by the sounds of rustling leaves and the rush of water across shallow river beds as geese announce their arrival with nasal trumpeted greetings.

Each of those inconveniences ended up costing me painting time. Between the malfunctions and the normal setup of cameras and equipment – my 4:30 ‘catch-the-late-afternoon-sun’ painting slot shrank from a solid 3-4 hours to less than 2 hours (each day), before the fading light forced me to pack up.

In retrospect, that might have become an advantage because it compelled me to concentrate on the essentials and paint quickly, not overworking or adding unnecessary details.

This painting was completed with two nights on location (about 1 ½ hours each evening) and a day in the studio to finish the bridge. I would have gone out the third evening, but it rained steadily the next day and continued for several days. The rain wouldn’t be a show stopper for normal Plein Air painting, but it wreaks havoc on camera equipment. And when we paint the same scene for more than a day we want the conditions to be comparable or else the light, the values, and the colors are altered dramatically).

Conclusion Completed Painting (mostly)

White River Crossing 12×16 by Bill Inman

Now the lower left corner feels congruent with flow of the painting and the upward movement of the plants adds an energetic entrance to the rest of the scene while still offering something interesting to look at.

While preparing the fast motion video of this painting I noticed that the two right diagonal posts on the bridge are too low – I did not keep them consistent with the angle of the other beams. Looks like an artist’s work is never done – thankfully!

Fast Motion Video

Watch the full 6-hour training video for this painting, as well as 2 additional Plein Air painting training videos, in the East Coast Plein Air Experience.

Tell me about your plein air adventures and harrowing moments capturing nature with paint. Why do you love to paint outdoors?