Now you're speaking to my heart! We travel extensively throughout South Africa, towing a caravan. One of the best sceneries I had from our caravan window, was the sea on both sides in Buffalo Bay, near Knysna, where the caravan park is on a piece of land jutting into the sea.

When I'm setting up with my plein air group, they seem very busy. Fussing with their gear and chatting. I set up, glancing at the scene before me, and thinking how I will paint it. Then when I'm ready to paint, I still just gaze at the depths and layers of colors, and shadow, imagining how to go about the craft of painting.

Perhaps I'll ask the ladies if they've studied the "Be Here Now" and how to stop that little yakking voice of the Ego, so that real silence and creativity can manifest. The ladies will look at me like I'm nuts.

Perhaps I'm helped by being progressively more hard-of-hearing. Or will deafness be a blessing in disguise?

While painting pastoral scenes "out in the country" a pickup truck is a great mobile studio. One can set up an easel in the bed and/or a small folding table to hold supplies. A folding chair is handy too. That way, the "subject" livestock were close by, but not able to nibble the supplies or the artist!

My trusty Soltek easel is my plein air weapon of choice (light, easy, sturdy), but someday, I'd like a "Paint Mobile" like a painting friend, Walt Gonske, has. From his base in Taos, NM, he travels around in an odd-looking vehicle he's reconfigured that allows him to paint standing up (he's very tall) in the back of it during inclement weather. It's got a lot of canvas storage and art supply space along with room to hold whatever a travelling artist requires. It's quite the set-up and one day I'd love something like it.

Mobility is an issue for large format photographers, as well. We're often carrying some 30 pounds of camera, lenses, film holders and tripod. In many places, ATVs are either not permitted or are unable to function. The decisions about what to carry is most important, and never perfect. Making do with what you have is part of the process, and may even positively contribute to creativity by causing the artist to concentrate on utilizing the available tools. There's also something wonderous about working in the environment being depicted, rather than in a studio far removed from the subject matter.

I was so excited to read this letter as I am absolutely enamored of my pochade, so much so that I posted a picture of it on my blog on June 12. I call it my studio in a box. Not only can you venture out anywhere in nature with it, but it also works wonderfully in local cafes, on a local sketchcrawl (cafe, park, etc.), on the back deck, and on the kitchen table while preparing dinner for my family (though, unfortunately, at times the dinner becomes a tad charred). My family refers to it as my laptop. (By the way, love the new layout of the letter.)

I'm besotted with the possibility of capturing a scene immediately with little of this other life intervening - and definitely agree with you that it must be kept simple - the work and equipment that makes it possible.

A simple palette of 3 primaries, a dark and light, a small squeeze bottle of refined linseed oil, which is the binder in most of my pigments anyway, so not adding anything new to the mix, and clean-up with Master's soap in the little round plastic container that's very light. No problem. It will even bring back a dried brush. And I can get through a painting without using more than two brushes most of the time - so they're light, too.

I just bought a Soltek easel and haven't become quite accustomed to it as I was with my French Julian - which just began to crack in critical places, so had to go.

But it comes with a backpack, which I had to modify to fit better, but is very light and easy to carry into the field - Yes, there's something very noble about keeping it simple and doing good work. This is the advice I got from a genius musician in Austin once when preparing for a student's wedding. 'Keep it simple' - such good advice for us all, too, especially when working in the field, where it's too easy to be seduced by it all and try to capture too much.

I'm off to North Carolina for 3 weeks in another two, to paint 10 or 15 canvases. Can't wait.

Today my friend Gerri and I went mobile to a local riverine park. She lay on her belly on the ground to paint! I set up on the park table, which had no bench, allowing me to belly up to the table. I even took my Soleil white painter's umbrella. So I can't say my setup was backpack ready, and our 2 cars were just steps away. But a picnic lunch and a much needed summer day (hard to come by in the NW of late), fresh air and the beauty all around were a good combo with our watercolor regalia. More to come!

We are snowbirds, traveling by automobile to the mountains for summer and the high desert for winter. My mobile pastel paintbox allows me to paint while my husband drives. It takes snapshot observation of what is passing by and a creative memory to compose, but the unevenness of the roads makes looser painting easy! Some real gems have come from this arrangement. Oh, the box? It is a discarded, thin, rectangular cardboard with a clam closing lid, hinged so to speak on the short side. The opened top leans against the car dashboard and fortified with a thin acrylic panel is my easel, forcing me to paint at arm's length. The bottom of the carton holds 2 boxes of pastels - spare in quantity and one exclusively of neutrals. A cotton cloth spread at the side and front catches dust and checks my pastel choice. A packet of baby wipes is great for clean up when suddenly the time comes to stop for tea. I grew up "making do," and still at 70 years I'm blessed to find pleasure in the wise use of small spaces, recycling discarded boxes and making art on the go.

A little late but a very interesting article in my opinion. I'm just an "old fashioned " painter from Holland, but I can tell you I am very happy with my Casio 10.1 megapixel camera. It seems a whole new world lies open for me now. We can't go on closing our eyes for modern technology.

I seem to have this unreasonable fear of painting in public. Several of my artist friends have invited me to paint with them on the marshes, etc.. But my fear gets in my way. I suspect it is a fear of being judged, and then also of not being able to concentrate, and then also not being able to pull together pieces like I do in my studio. But I also suspect it is more complicated than that. Perhaps I also need to learn to NOT be distracted by all the detail in front of me—as in the studio I can simplify and compose without distracting detail. I guess that is an art in and of itself—all about composition. Any suggestions?

What about llamas and camelids? For walking terrain... we have lots of them in Colorado. Art backpacking without the weight on one's own back.

Take care working in enclosed spaces. Some art materials produce vapours or fumes which could be bad for one's health. Many years ago I heard about an artist who used felt pens in his car and eventually experienced damage to his nerves and muscles.

It sounds easy but I am haven't tried it .

I have enjoyed making my own paint boxes to suit my style and whimsy. Last year I bit the bullet and purchased a pastel box/easel from Open Box M for a plein air workshop with Lorenzo Chavez in Taos, NM. 400 buckaroos made my checkbook wince but its been the real deal on the land. Instead of using it only for pastel, I made two box inserts--one is glass-bottom lined for an oil palette, the second is committed to my pastel array. Easily switchable, I can follow the need of the moment, weather, or whatever.

You cannot imagine how excited I am to be going to a mobile studio on July 16th - on the River Baroness, a rivership cruising on the Seine with my small group of fellow art travellers. We will be painting from Paris through Normandy while floating from one paintable view to the next. We will visit Claude Monet's paradise at Giverny (and his blue and white kitchen is the cat's meow). I did this trip last year and it was unforgettable. Included is a visit to Van Gogh's Auvers Sur Oise. This had to be my favourite place ever. I had a lump in my throat as I recognized painting after painting since the town has not changed at all. As I stood in the corn field with the crows wheeling about I thought of Van Gogh's pain and the last day of his life. A short time later I visited his grave, and that of his brother Theo beside him, and recognized that poignant moment and what I felt would be with me forever.

I love your letters and enjoy reading the comments as well! Of note regarding this subject is that Georgia O'Keeffe, one of my favorite Painters, used her car as a Mobile Studio in Taos, N.M. in the early 1930's. She had a Model-A Ford, which she purchased as a statement of independence and against the wishes of her husband, Alfred Stieglitz the Photographer. I believe she removed part of the seat and worked inside to keep out of the Sun.

I have not traveled as extensively as some of your writers but have always enjoyed drawing and painting 'on site' as well as taking supportive photos to use as reference. The immediate intensity of Color is a unique part of the experience!

My husband is a Nature Photographer and we have often spent the day outside together, pursuing our own views of Nature in our individual ways, Camera and Brush.

I live in Cork, Ireland. As most people know over here we get four seasons in one day, so it is necessary to travel light. I have a medium sized van and very often I am confined to this for my outdoor work. One of my tips for cropping my compositions is to create a frame on the window with masking tape. I find this helps me to concentrate on the area I wish to paint. I'm never pleased with my work on the day but when I put them away and take them out again weeks later I find them much more exciting and atmospheric. Never throw away al fresco paintings or sketches! They will be the cherished mementos in time to come!

As a longtime admirer of yours, I was disappointed to read that you drive an ATV. I understand that it will take you where you might not otherwise be able to go - maybe we weren't meant to go there? In NS we are currently going through a heated exchange with government re these vehicles and, among other things, what they do to the environment, habitat and the sounds of the forest.

Jack, what you’re afraid of is real! For some of us, painting in the open air, there is just too much information flying at us, something we can control in the studio, but on location it can really freak us out!

I’ve experienced the same problems you mention and after I don’t know how many years, I’m finally making progress. First, I plug in my iPod and listen to Joshua Bell and his violin. Second, I take lots of time to focus on a scene. I do thumbnails, maybe a value study (breathe a lot) and really get acquainted with what I want to paint. I usually do an underpainting in watercolor, then I begin to relax and enjoy the process. By the time the watercolor has dried, I’m feeling comfortable with the scene and ready apply pastel. Sometimes I do an oil painting. Sometimes it doesn’t work and I scrape it off and start over.

It really takes a lot of patience, practice, and forcing yourself to focus. I nearly gave it up many times, but in the past year, I’m finally getting it. One thing I do understand about myself is that one painting takes just about all my energy. Two would do me in. Some of my artist buddies can pump out several paintings in a plein air session. I’ve long ago given up competing with them.

Running an ATV through the peaceful wilderness and swizzling a brush laden with cadmiums and other chemicals into the pristine waters from the side of a kayak. Somehow a dark shadow has just passed over the beautiful image of nature.

I use my personal mobility vehicle or my painting friend pushes my wheelchair as far as she is able to access areas that obviously can't be too far from the roadway. But I won't let being partially disabled and on oxygen keep me from getting outdoors once in a while to paint. And it is partly your letters that inspire me to do that. As I wrote to you a couple of years ago, "Thanks for being a pane in my window on the world!" Since that time, my world has widened. Thank you, Robert! Also, I have forced myself out of my comfort zone and painted in a surreal style, a far cry from my usual work. Mostly due to you and the letters from your readers.

We live with our feet in two worlds: 25 miles from Washington, DC and all its museums, yet surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of acres of woodland (much of it state property) and wetlands with a creek and a run flanking our property lines. When I began plein air painting a few years ago, I used a hand-me-down backpack, an aluminum easel, and a bungeed cardboard shirt box with foam-board spacers to carry wet canvases. It all weighs 7 pounds including paint, palette, turps and a few brushes. Later, I bought a Julian easel/paint-box and used it a few times. I found it heavier, clunky and noisy, and went back to my jury-rigged beginner set-up. At age 60, I doubt I’ll live long enough to paint every bend in the creek and the banks of the run in all seasons. Granted, it’s not the wilds of Canada or a remote area. When the creek floods, some trash washes through from the surrounding suburbs. Still, it’s great good fortune that I can walk out the back door, across the field, and be set up in the woods, ready to paint within 30 minutes. I’ve never seen or heard a human soul. There are plenty of conversations with curious deer and talkative owls. I get through the pathless tight spots and go where my neighbor on his noisy ATV cannot! The only real inconvenience is trying to schedule safe time during hunting seasons, when those with a different reason to be in the woods come out.

I have a portable easel, wooden, briefcase size, but still too much for me to take to France for two months. Does anyone know of an ultra light model?

There are companies like gorillavehicles.com that produce electric ATV's (12-13 mph, 35 mi. range) that have little or no environmental impact.