Jolene live oil painting at the Banter Showcase at Solune, Lauren Woodall performing, photo by Charlie Shuck
Why I Started Live Oil Painting
In recent years, I’ve taken to live painting, or creating art in public, striving to complete a piece in one sitting, alla prima, despite distractions like music, people, and shifting lights. I bring my own lights now. The schedule is set ahead of time, so I never know if it’ll be an on or off day. Why did I choose to start live oil painting? I’ve shown my art since 2013, but curating and running shows appeals to me more than just displaying finished work. Labeling pieces feels irrelevant—I’m drawn to the process, not the labels. I like open mics for the same reason: when musicians share unfinished songs, it feels like a glimpse inside their minds. My friend Elyse calls it workshopping. I relate.
Most visual artists create in solitude. Some find that sacred. I prefer to have a lot going on. My studio is in a public space inside Solune Coffee Lab in the Riverside Arts District in Jacksonville, Florida. I am one of the resident artists and curators there. Solune is a place for coffee, music, and art, and I often do live oil painting during showcases and open mics. People come and go all day, whether I am there or not. It is the opposite of a private studio, which makes painting in public feel natural. Everything I need is already in the building.
Jolene in her Studio. Photo by @rexcuando
Other Venues
I have also done live oil painting at venues where I had no idea where I would set up until I arrived. The focus is usually on the band, as it should be, so I find a spot that is visible and approachable but out of the way. I have painted at showcases at The Walrus in Murray Hill and ended up in different rooms each time. That means setting up lighting on the fly. Eric helps when he can; he is a lighting master. I can get by with can lights if I have to. I set an easel, a small table for palette paper and Gamsol, a few brushes, my gamblin palette knife, a roll of paper towels, and a smile. I keep it minimal because alla prima oil painting needs momentum. I do not use mediums when I paint live. Simpler is better.
The best part is when people walk up while I am working. They usually approach carefully and apologize for interrupting. I tell them it is okay. I would not be doing live painting here if that bothered me. They often ask if it is oil. It is. Sometimes I meet a fellow oil painter who can relate to my process. Sometimes it is an acrylic or watercolor artist who tells me they wish they had the patience for oils. Lately, I have been painting a lot of cats, so I hear, “Is that your cat?” I do not have a cat.
The Benefits
I do live oil painting for different reasons. Sometimes I am asked to add to the vibe of the event, volunteer to raffle the piece for a fundraiser, or simply paint at Solune because I like the music that night. I do not always paint publicly, but when I do, I am more productive. When I first started, I would stress about finishing before the event ended. No one had that expectation but me. With practice, better subjects, and preparation, I pace myself. I sometimes use mixed media for the background, collaging old sheet music to an acrylic-primed panel, sealing with clear gesso, and letting the notes glow under color. Premixing before the show helps. I take breaks. I know where the finish line is.
Painting Fearlessly
Painting in front of people and practicing short poses in my weekly figure study sessions made me faster and less afraid. I run short sessions, four thirty-minute blocks, and sometimes I repeat a pose back-to-back if I am working in oil and want a second pass while the memory of the gesture is still alive. Teaching art taught me that fear kills creativity. Most adults are afraid to begin. They are worried someone will judge their work and they apologize for their lines before I say anything. Kids have it right. Tell an adult to draw a house, and there are questions. Tell a child to draw a house, and a house appears. Figure painting like this reminds me to jump in and make the mark. You can always paint over it. If the painting is not going well, just step away for a minute, come back, and keep going. It often turns a corner. The big problem is usually less important than it feels.
Rooster Playing a Banjo, from Paper Jam at the Walrus
People assume this makes me an extrovert. Not really. I am not shy, and I am approachable, but I do not naturally start conversations with strangers. I am as comfortable alone with my thoughts as I am in public. Live oil painting in a coffee shop is my way of connecting with people who are curious about what I do without having to make the first move. The room does the inviting. I get to work.
The Surface
When I think about what makes these nights feel good under the brush. Oil on panel gives me clean edges and a steady drag for the brush, and the acrylic-primed linen answers with the right amount of tooth. I reserve the oil primed linen panels for my slow fine art that I work on in sessions. I have portraits I work on for months and that is a totally different process for another post. With both surfaces, I can cut a seam with a knife and soften an edge with a flat brush, and the surface holds both.
There is always a moment when somebody pauses mid-sip and watches the painting find its shape. That pause is the part I am after. It is why I set up in public, why I sometimes choose short sessions over overnight battles, and why I keep coming back to live oil painting as part performance and part studio practice. More than anything, live painting is my way to merge the act of creation with the rhythm of daily life, sharing the creative process with others while staying engaged and inspired. It is not about being watched. It is about letting the work happen where life is already happening.
Don’t be shy!
If you see me at the easel, say hello. I will probably be mixing paints, answering a question about drying time, or explaining again that it is not my cat.
