I have a deep affection for watercolour, its simplicity and massive complexities, and am fascinated by its immediacy. I do not pre-draw and I am passionate about painting with a brush and using the white of the paper.

My inspiration lies in direct contact with nature and the outside – a shaft of amazing light hitting a butterfly’s delicate wing or perhaps an exciting encounter with an animal or bird. My work is a study, a reaction, a colour diary and an observation. But as well as the subject matter itself, my work is also about the environment, the atmosphere, the rain or snow: elements of nature that have a lasting and telling effect on the finished result.

Recently I was invited to give a talk and demonstration in Arctic Norway, as well as travel with a group watching the amazing wildlife that inhabits the Varanger peninsula. At times it was -25ºC with an additional wind chill but I was there to paint. In situations such as these, painting outdoors is as much about the mind-set of possibilities. Using a combination of flasks of boiling water, a hot water bottle beneath my palette and speeding up my working practices, the initial difficulties could be overcome.

Magical patterns of ice rosettes that incredibly almost freeze-dried the watercolour formed on the paper surface, so that the standard watercolour technique became almost like drawing with a marker. Layers of paint formed by one layer of ice on top of the other became a unique surface and one that had to be treasured. So often when I take groups out painting in testing weather the best results follow, as any expectations are quickly forgotten.

Arctic Redpoll in Birch, March 2013, watercolour, (38x56cm)
This was painted in Arctic Norway, where the conditions and -10ºC temperatures created unique patterns as the watercolour instantly froze on the paper surface.
Here you can see how the colour behaves almost marker-like as layers of ice, not water, form the marks

Energy

As a young naturalist I drew avidly, but I was surrounded by images of natural history that although technically masterful, lacked the energy and life I saw when I went out with my binoculars. My subjects moved, were elusive and disappeared, often blending into the landscape. It was like a game of hide and seek. Later I was introduced to the work of John Busby, Eric Ennion and Charles Tunnicliffe, and was shown a world of life and energy on paper – I could hear my subjects living on the page, and so my journey began.

When I venture out now, I do so without a fixed idea of a painting in mind. I have come to believe strongly in the process of being in one place for most of the day and to allow subjects to come to me. I am becoming aware of the invisible energies that are around us every day, and especially so in the field. It is a kind of field craft and I want this to show in my paintings. I find a spot where I can spend several hours, set myself up and begin painting. The more I look the more I see, and it constantly amazes me how, even after an hour or so of working, I see so much more.

Teal Goup, watercolour, (56x76cm)
As the sun began to burn off the early morning mist, it revealed a group of resting Teal on the burn.
The dampness in the air meant that the paper became almost twice as heavy, but it readily accepted paint and the colours stayed wet for a long time. I really enjoy working this way

My painting kit is kept to a minimum as I need to be able to walk for some distance to find areas to work. All the essentials for a full day out, not forgetting a ground cloth of sorts – coat/sleeping mat usually as I almost always work on the ground – are in a medium-sized rucksack. Recently some kneepads have been one of my most treasured buys.

I have a trusty old aluminium folding palette which, when opened allows me to squeeze new wells full of fresh artists’ watercolour ready for the day. I use two blues, ultramarine and cobalt; two browns, raw sienna and burnt umber; two reds, crimson alizarin and rose madder genuine, and aureolin yellow. I have worked with these same colours for years. I like knowing instinctively the consistency needed for particular colours or tones so that, on the spur of a moment, I can mix the relevant tones. I carry a selection of brushes, some luxurious Oriental-type squirrel hair and a couple of fine kolinsky sables, as well as a mixture of cheaper synthetic brushes which I use just as much. So many times when out painting in winter I have picked up an expensive brush, only to find the hairs frozen on the ground; so I have learnt.

Long-tailed Tits in Hawthorn, watercolour, (56x76cm)
A small party of titmice were feeding in the hawthorn. The weather was perfect – cold and damp after an early frost – and the paper was absorbing the moisture of a typical November day.
I knew I had to lay stronger washes of paint, as the moisture in the paper would take away much of the strength of colour.
I wanted to bring to life the reds and greens, so I applied them liberally. Watercolour dries at least a third lighter than the neat colour, and this is often exaggerated when working outside

Harmony

Another of my deep passions is for paper, especially the quality of the surface as it is so much a part of my work, and recently I fulfilled a dream to visit a paper mill when I went to the Two Rivers mill on Exmoor.

When I was invited by the BBC to appear on the Springwatch Unsprung programme in June this year, I took much more paper than I needed, of varying weights, but as soon as I arrived I could feel the dampness and humidity and knew that it was going to be the perfect atmosphere to work in. Sure enough, as we began I could sense the moisture from the drizzle becoming absorbed by the paper and as soon as I began to put washes on, the brushmarks flowed, gliding effortlessly across the surface. Aided by the conditions, each area of new colour maintained its dampness – a constant battle for me –allowing the painting to merge in places yet be defined in others. These perfect conditions continued while I painted a warbler in the hawthorn outside the studio. The whole experience is an example of how the conditions, paint and paper work in a poetic harmony.

For me, to paint with watercolour outside creates this ever-so-special relationship between creativity and the environment. To become fine-tuned in all the senses associated with working in the field, as well as being able to capture movement, light, atmosphere and a sense of story, is what I strive to do, and I encourage others to have a go.

Smew Pair, February 2012, watercolour, (76x56cm)
A cold damp February morning where, at last, a change from freezing conditions led to a steady grey drizzle.
The subtlety of light fascinates me, especially hues of warm and cold greys and browns, and being able to see these delicate changes is a challenge in itself

Darren Woodhead studied graphic design at Wakefield District College, natural history illustration at Carmarthenshire College of Art and Design, and obtained his masters degree in natural history illustration from the Royal College of Art. He now works as a freelance artist but also teaches art, takes workshops and gives demonstrations. Darren has received numerous commissions and exhibits regularly, including with the Society of Wildlife Artists since 1994; he was elected a full member in 2001. The many awards he has received include the Swarovski Optic and Birdwatch Artist of the Year in 2009.

Publications include From Dawn Till Dusk, Langford Press, 2005; Up River, The Song of the Esk, Birlinn, 2009; The Great Fen, Langford Press, 2006; Aig on Oir, Langford Press, 2005.

For more information see www.darrenwoodheadartist.co.uk

This Masterclass is taken from the December 2013 issue of The Artist

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