Some places ask you to be quiet.
Church Woods in Woldingham felt like that. The ground was covered in bluebells, the trees full of early spring light, and everything held that delicate balance between freshness and stillness that only lasts for a short time each year.
I went there with fellow artist and friend Neringa Paulauskyte, and we spent the day painting among the woods.
Beginning with small studies
I started with two small watercolour studies.
Working quickly, trying to catch the feeling of the place rather than every detail. The cool violets of the bluebells, the sharp dark shapes of the trees, and that sudden brightness of fresh green where the light broke through.
These early sketches are always important to me. They’re not finished pieces. They’re a way of tuning into a place.
Letting the colours settle. Letting the composition reveal itself.
Responding to the landscape
Each study took a slightly different direction.
One leaned into contrast, with strong dark tree shapes cutting through the light. The other opened out more, allowing the bands of bluebells to stretch across the woodland floor.
Both were attempts to understand the same thing: how light, colour, and space were moving through the woods.
That’s something I’m always searching for — not just what something looks like, but how it feels to stand inside it.
Moving into a larger painting
From those studies, I began a larger piece on location.
This one is still unfinished and will be completed back in the studio, but it already holds something different. Less about reacting, more about building.
The washes are looser, the atmosphere softer, and the space feels deeper. It’s starting to become less about a moment and more about a memory of the place.
That transition from quick study to larger painting is where something shifts for me.
The painting stops being just observation, and starts becoming something more personal.
Painting with Neringa
Spending the day painting alongside Neringa made it even more meaningful.
There’s a quiet understanding in sharing a space like that with another artist. No pressure to talk, no need to explain. Just two people looking, mixing colour, and responding in their own way.
The same woods. The same light.
Two completely different ways of seeing.
Why this matters
Painting outdoors slows everything down.
As someone who experiences the world quite intensely, days like this help me settle into one thing at a time. Look. Mix. Paint. Breathe.
The small studies capture the immediacy of being there.
The larger painting begins to hold onto something longer.
That’s what I’m always trying to do — create work that carries a sense of calm, something you can return to.
A quiet moment held
Spring doesn’t last long in this form. The bluebells will fade, the light will change, and the woods will move on.
But for a while, it was all there.
Colour, quiet, friendship, and paint on paper.
And that’s what I’ve tried to hold onto.
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If this kind of calm, story-led work speaks to you, you can explore more of my paintings through my gallery.
Where is Church Woods in Woldingham?
Church Woods is a woodland area in Woldingham, known in spring for its bluebells and quiet natural beauty.
Did you paint outdoors on location?
Yes, these were painted outside in the woods, directly in response to the landscape and atmosphere of the day.
Who were you painting with?
I spent the day painting with fellow artist and friend Neringa Paulauskyte.
What inspired the paintings most?
The main inspiration was the contrast between the soft bluebells, fresh spring greens, and the vertical rhythm of the trees.
Do outdoor sketches become finished paintings later?
Sometimes they do. Small studies often become starting points for larger studio pieces or future collections.
Why do you paint places like this?
Because quiet landscapes help me slow down, notice more deeply, and turn lived feeling into something visual and lasting.
