Hello Reader,

I've spent the last few days settling back into my cabin in Northeast Washington for the summer. After a busy year of travel, teaching, exhibitions, and deadlines, it feels good to once again be surrounded by the forests, mountains, and water that inspire so much of my work.

Yesterday I was finally able to sit down and paint. As I watched the light move across the landscape outside my window, I was reminded of a question I hear often from artists:

Why do some landscapes seem to glow while others feel flat?

Many artists assume the answer is color. We chase brighter pigments, more dramatic sunsets, and increasingly vibrant mixtures, hoping to create that elusive glow.

But the secret isn't color.

It's light.

Think about a stained-glass window. The beauty isn't just in the colors of the glass—it's in the light passing through it. Watercolor works in much the same way. The most luminous paintings allow light to travel through transparent layers of pigment, bounce off the white paper beneath, and return to the viewer's eye.

When that light is preserved, a painting glows.

When it's lost, the painting can become dull, no matter how beautiful the colors may be.

One of the biggest mistakes artists make is focusing on color before they understand value. Value is simply the relative lightness or darkness of an area. It is the framework that allows light to exist in a painting. Without a strong value structure, even the most vibrant colors struggle to create impact.

Another common challenge is overworking. Watercolor rewards confidence and transparency. Every additional layer has the potential to diminish the light underneath. Learning when to stop can be just as important as knowing what to add.

This is one of the reasons I was drawn to poured watercolor. Rather than brushing color back and forth across the paper, pouring allows pigments to flow, mingle, and settle naturally while maintaining their transparency. The resulting layers create depth and luminosity that would be difficult to achieve through traditional methods alone.

When I paint a landscape, I am not really painting trees, mountains, or clouds.

I am painting light.

The golden glow at sunrise.
The cool shadows beneath a stand of pines.
The shimmer of sunlight reflected in water.
The atmospheric haze that softens distant hills.

The landscape is simply the vehicle through which the light tells its story.

Because so many artists struggle with this idea, I've created a special workshop called

Pouring Light: Luminous Landscapes in Watercolor

Thursday, June 25, 4–7 pm PT over Zoom (recording available)

Together we'll explore how to preserve light, build transparent layers, create stronger value patterns, and develop landscapes that feel alive with atmosphere and glow. Whether you're new to poured watercolor or looking to deepen your understanding of luminosity, you'll leave with practical tools you can immediately apply to your own work.

As a thank you for being part of this newsletter community, I'd like to offer you a special subscriber price.

The workshop is normally $65, but newsletter subscribers can register for just $50

That's a savings of $15 and my way of saying thank you for following along with my artistic adventures and educational ramblings.

This special subscriber price is available through June 18.

If you've ever looked at one of my paintings and wondered how I create that sense of luminosity, this workshop is designed to pull back the curtain and share the process.

Until then, the next time you find yourself outdoors, try this simple exercise: forget about the objects in front of you and look only at the light. Notice where it shines, where it disappears, and how it transforms everything it touches.

You may discover that light has been the true subject all along.

Wishing you bright skies and luminous paintings,

Leslie