I
T was unexpected, the way I met plein air painter René Snyman. That is, I didn’t expect, on my walk in Hermanus one evening, to see a solitary painter with her easel on the sea cliffs.
There was something so peculiar and wonderful about it. How often do you see painters painting in nature?
“Hello,” says the painter, not glancing up from her painting. There is a strong smell of acrylic and salt.
She is seated so close to the sea that one misstep and she will fall into it. The wind makes her long red hair fly about. Over the uneven stones one kind soul clambers, to the rock where she is marooned, proffering cake. All that exists in the world is this painter, her canvas, and the sea.
We talk over the clamour of wind and waves.
A professional artist since 1998, Snyman has been painting outside, or “en plein air”, for about 10 years.
In the US, where some combine it with extreme sports like skiing, plein air painting is not an uncommon hobby.
There are clubs, events. PleinAir magazine publisher B Eric Rhoads says it’s a way for the public to watch art being made and buy it “fresh off the easel”.
In South Africa, Snyman says she’s one of “the crazy few” in this field. “I’ve had security fetch me from the edge of a cliff.”
She has painted under full moon in the Kalahari, and at the foot of Epupa Falls on the border of Angola and Namibia.
“I’ve hiked kilometres into the mountains and camped . . . Traipsed through vineyards and come home dirty and sweaty, all in the name of art.” Facing rain, hail, mosquitoes . . .
It’s nearing sunset. There’s a feeling of euphoria and calm, watching the sea, and watching her paint it.
Her speech is fast, urgent, like