There is something magical that happens when artists step away from their daily routines and spend several uninterrupted days focused on painting.

Phones become less important. Time slows down. Conversations revolve around color, light, composition, and brushstrokes. Small breakthroughs happen almost hourly. Confidence grows. And before anyone realizes it, three days have flown by.

That was exactly the experience during the intensive three-day still life workshop in my new classroom/gallery.

When the final day ended, everyone left a little tired, a little paint-covered, and, I hope, inspired to approach every future painting with new confidence and a sharper eye. We were so busy working that I hardly remembered to photograph the final day's paintings—but perhaps that's the best sign of all. Every minute was spent doing what we came to do: paint.

 

Small Art Retreats

One of the reasons I designed this workshop as a small-group retreat was simple.

Every artist deserves individual attention.

In larger classes, instructors often have to divide their time among many students. By intentionally keeping enrollment small, I was able to spend meaningful time with each participant, helping them solve problems unique to their painting while still teaching principles that benefited the entire group.

Every painter arrives with different strengths and different challenges.

Some struggle with drawing.

Others wrestle with color mixing.

Some understand values but hesitate when making brushstrokes.

Having a small class allowed me to meet each artist exactly where they were and help move them forward.

Watching those moments of understanding happen throughout the weekend reminded me why teaching has become such an important part of my own artistic journey.

 

Day One: Building a Strong Foundation

The first day was devoted to building a solid foundation.

Rather than having everyone create their own arrangements immediately, we all painted the same carefully designed still life together.

I intentionally created a setup that included nearly every challenge I could think of.

There was patterned fabric.

Shiny tarnished metal.

Clear glass.

Complex reflections.

Subtle shifts in color temperature.

Delicate value changes.

Every object presented opportunities to practice careful observation while reinforcing essential concepts about light, edges, color relationships, and composition.

By the end of the first day, everyone—including the teacher—was exhausted.

Teaching requires just as much concentration as painting!

Before leaving that evening, I thought the students had done an excellent job.

But the next morning, I walked into the classroom with fresh eyes.

Their paintings looked even better than I remembered.

Day Two: Learning to See

With the fundamentals in place, day two shifted toward creative decision-making.

Each student designed an original still life using a collection of objects provided in the studio.

This wasn't simply an exercise in arranging attractive objects.

It became a lesson in composition.

Students learned how to group objects so the viewer's eye naturally moves through the painting. We explored how thoughtful lighting can transform an ordinary arrangement into a compelling work of art.

Perhaps most importantly, we practiced direct observation.

One of the hardest lessons for developing artists is learning to paint what they actually see rather than what they think they know.

We all carry visual assumptions.

We believe apples are red.

Silver is gray.

Glass is transparent.

But when we slow down and truly observe, we discover colors we never expected and values that surprise us.

The more carefully students looked, the more exciting their paintings became.

Throughout the day I watched confidence grow as hesitant brushstrokes turned into decisive ones.

Each artist began trusting their own eyes.

That transformation is always exciting to witness.

 

Day Three: Putting It All Together

By the final day, the classroom had developed its own rhythm.

Conversations centered around solving painting problems.

Students walked around encouraging one another.

Questions became increasingly sophisticated.

Instead of asking, "What color should I use?"

They began asking, "How can I make this area feel farther away?" or "Why does this edge feel too sharp?"

Those are wonderful questions because they show artists are beginning to think beyond simply copying objects.

They are beginning to think like painters.

As I walked around the room offering suggestions and encouragement, I saw every participant making stronger artistic decisions than they had made only two days earlier.

That kind of growth is incredibly rewarding.

 

More Than Learning Techniques

Of course, we talked about color mixing.

We discussed values.

We examined edges.

We practiced composition.

But perhaps the greatest lesson wasn't technical at all.

It was learning patience.

Good painting isn't about rushing.

It requires slowing down.

Looking longer.

Making thoughtful decisions.

Being willing to scrape off paint that isn't working and try again.

Those habits don't just improve one painting—they improve every painting an artist creates afterward.

 

A Classroom Filled With Encouragement

One of my favorite parts of teaching is watching artists encourage one another.

Although everyone worked on different compositions and interpreted their subjects differently, there was never a sense of competition.

Instead, the room was filled with generosity.

Students shared discoveries.

They celebrated each other's successes.

When someone solved a difficult painting problem, everyone learned from it.

That supportive atmosphere creates the perfect environment for artistic growth.

No one feels afraid to ask questions.

Everyone feels comfortable experimenting.

Mistakes become opportunities instead of frustrations.

Those are exactly the kinds of classrooms I hope to continue building.

 

The Joy of Teaching

People often ask whether I enjoy teaching as much as painting.

The answer is yes—but for different reasons.

Painting allows me to express my own vision.

Teaching allows me to watch someone else's vision develop.

There is nothing quite like seeing the moment when lessons about color, value, edges, and observation suddenly click.

You can almost see the confidence appear.

Those moments remind me why I love teaching.

Every workshop becomes a shared creative journey.

By the end, I learn just as much from my students as they learn from me.

 

Looking Ahead

As this  intensive workshop came to a close, I found myself already thinking about next year.

This experience confirmed everything I hoped these small retreats could become.

Three days gives artists enough time to settle in, absorb new ideas, practice them immediately, receive personal feedback, and leave with meaningful progress—not just a notebook full of information.

I'm already planning next year's intensive workshops in my classroom gallery, and I can't wait to welcome another group of artists.

Because enrollment is intentionally limited, each retreat fills quickly. Keeping the classes small allows me to provide the individual instruction that makes such a difference.

If spending three days immersed in painting, surrounded by fellow artists, sounds like something you'd enjoy, I invite you to join my email newsletter. Subscribers are always among the first to hear about new workshops, retreats, classes, and upcoming events.

I hope you'll join us.

Who knows?

Next year, one of those easels might be yours.

Until then, keep looking carefully, keep asking questions, and above all—keep painting.