Painting in Wales
After a year of exhibitions and many quiet hours in the studio, I found myself stepping into a very different part of my art life — workshops.
Painting alone is familiar to me. It is quiet, focused, almost like a conversation with nature that no one else hears. Just me, the brush, the paper and a plant that never complains when I get things wrong.
But workshops are different. They are not quiet. They are alive.
They begin long before you arrive.
You choose the place, the tutor and the dates. Then you start preparing not only your materials but your expectations. You imagine the days ahead. Light, gardens, studios, other artists, conversations over coffee. A whole small world appears in your mind before you even pack your brushes.
And sometimes reality agrees with you.
And sometimes it quietly changes the plan.
The Strange Beauty Of Shared Painting
In workshops, painting is no longer private. It becomes shared time. Shared space. Shared silence, which is not always silent.
There is something special about sitting next to another artist, both of you focused on a flower or a leaf, both trying to understand it in your own way. Very little needs to be said but you still feel a connection.
And then there is the social part, which is more complicated.
People bring themselves into the room. Their confidence, their doubts, their habits, their need to belong or stay slightly apart.
And this changes the atmosphere more than anyone admits.
Workshop in La Mortella Gardens
My First And Most Beautiful Workshop Experience In Italy
My first and most beautiful workshop experiences happened in Italy.
Twice I worked there with Marie Rita Stirpe and both times felt deeply right.
In Italy, artists like to put classical music on while painting, often with a sea view in the background. Brushes move slower when Vivaldi is in the air. Everything feels a bit more intentional, even mistakes.
La Mortella Garden was the heart of it all. A place where colour feels almost arranged by music itself.
And after the course we cooked together or went to eat outside by the sea. Simple food, long tables, conversations that stretched into the evening without effort.
There was no rush. Only presence.
I left both times with a strange feeling — not only inspiration but also energy and a desire to come back soon.
Usually you leave a workshop thinking ‘this was good’.
In Italy I left thinking ‘I need to return’.
Painting in Ireland
The Invisible Side Of Workshops
Not every workshop carries that kind of harmony.
Some are more complicated.
You arrive open, ready, curious. Then slowly you notice small things. Groups forming naturally. Conversations that do not always include everyone. A quiet sense of being inside or slightly outside.
Nothing is dramatic. Nothing is said directly. But you feel it anyway.
And painting becomes slightly heavier because of it. You still learn. You still observe. But the emotional space is different.
You come home with knowledge, yes, but also with something harder to name. A quiet aftertaste. Not bad, just unsettled.
Because of this I became more careful about choosing workshops. Not only tutor and location but also the feeling of the group. That part matters more than I once thought.
Workshops in Wales
Ireland, Wales, Kent, Spain – Different Landscapes, Different Energy
Ireland, Wales, Kent, Spain — different landscapes, different energy.
Ireland feels soft and emotional, like light that never fully decides if it wants to shine or rest.
Wales feels grounded and ancient, as if the land remembers everything.
Kent feels structured, cultivated, almost polite in its beauty.
Spain is the opposite. Bright, direct, full of heat and colour that does not ask permission.
Each place changes the way you paint. And the way you think.
In beautiful Andalusia, Spain
One To One With Ursula Romero
Last year I had a very different workshop experience with Ursula Romero.
It was a one to one workshop and I spent two full days with her. Painting, chatting, laughing, sharing meals in between work. It felt relaxed but deeply focused at the same time.
I learned a lot about her way of mixing colour, how she builds depth and how she paints giant leaves with confidence and clarity. She was open, generous and genuinely happy to share her knowledge without holding anything back.
Her artworks surrounded me during those days, not as examples on a wall but as a living presence in the room.
We also went into her garden and saw the plants she paints. That moment connected everything. The work, the process, the real plant.
It felt very honest.
A Day With Billy Showell In Kent
One of my most memorable workshop days was with Billy Showell in Kent.
It was a small group of eight people in her studio. From the very first moment, the atmosphere felt warm and welcoming, almost like stepping into someone’s creative home rather than a formal teaching space.
Billy is full of energy, talent and humour. She keeps the room lively in the best way, making people laugh while still staying focused on painting. Nothing feels heavy or distant. She brings the whole group with her and the studio feels bright and active from the first moment.
And then there was her homemade cake for tea time. A simple detail but somehow it made the day even more human. We paused, talked, laughed and then went back to painting with softer minds.
That day still stays with me. Not only for what I learned but for how it felt to be there 🌿
What Workshops Really Give Me
Workshops are not only about technique.
They are about people, energy and how we exist in a shared creative space.
How quickly you feel open or closed.
How easily inspiration grows or disappears depending on the atmosphere.
And still I keep going to them.
Because when it works, it really works.
Nice memories from workshop in Italy
Choosing More Carefully Now
I am more selective now.
Not in a strict way but in a clearer way.
I know what kind of energy supports my painting. I know what kind of group helps me stay open. I also know that beauty of place is not enough on its own.
I need space where I can be part of something and still fully myself.
That balance is not always easy to find but I keep looking for it.
Closing Thought
Workshops feel like moving through different versions of creative life.
Some feel like home.
Some feel like a lesson.
Some feel like both.
But all of them leave something behind.
Not just what I painted there but what I carry back into my quiet studio, my plants and my brushes waiting for the next story
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Inessa Falina is a London-based botanical artist and teacher. A member of the Chelsea Physic Garden Florilegium Society, she has exhibited at The Mall Galleries and Chelsea Old Town Hall, with work held in private collections across Europe, the USA and Australia. Through her art and teaching, she helps people slow down, observe nature deeply and find calm through the practice of painting. You can follow her work on Instagram at @inessa.falina
— Inessa
