We're home from Scotland now, unpacked and back into the regular rhythm of things, and I've had a few days to sit with what I actually made on that trip versus what I set out to make.
What Actually Ended Up in My Sketchbook
I did finish a full travel spread, sketched and painted, which felt like a real win. I also painted three landscapes while we were there, which was the whole point of packing my paints in the first place. I took full advantage of the early mornings at the start of the trip, coffee and sketchbook before anyone else was awake, and I'm glad I did, because I did not get nearly as much painting time overall as I had hoped. Family trips do not leave a lot of open hours, and I knew that going in. Three landscapes and a finished spread is still more than I walked in with.
I Still Don't Know My Landscape Style, and That's Fine
Here's the honest part. My sketching has gotten better, I can feel it, but I still have not figured out how I want to handle landscapes in paint. I know what I need to work on. I need to loosen up. I need to stop painting so precisely and so literally, detail by detail, and instead paint the darks and the lights, the impression of a place rather than a copy of it. That is a different muscle than the one I have been building, and Scotland made that gap really obvious to me.
What the Galleries Reminded Me
We stopped into several art galleries and makers markets along the way, and every single time, I found myself drawn to the messy, loose, impressionistic pieces. That is what pulls me in when it is someone else's work. And then I have to turn around and ask myself why I can't let my own work look like that. Why are we so hard on ourselves, on what we make, when we would never judge someone else's wonky lines the same way? I don't have a tidy answer. I just know I noticed it, and I don't think I'll unnotice it now.
What I'm Bringing Home
Not a new technique exactly, more like a permission slip. I want to keep up the travel journal and keep painting mini landscapes now that I'm home, and I want to actually practice letting them be imperfect instead of tightening every line the way I default to. The wonky lines are not a failure. They might be the whole point. That is what I'm carrying home from Scotland, tucked in next to the paintings themselves.
