Botanical Watercolour Workshops at Rutland Flower Show
Some events stay with you because of the people. Others stay with you because of the place. Rutland Flower Show gave us both, with three days of paint, petals, quiet concentration, and more than a few visits from bumblebees and butterflies.
Across the show, I taught 16 botanical watercolour workshops to more than 100 attendees, each one creating their own watercolour bouquet. Some arrived with confidence. Some arrived with a little apprehension. Quite a few told me they had not picked up a paintbrush since school.
That made the experience even more special.
The workshops were designed to be welcoming, practical, and calm. No pressure to create a perfect painting. No expectation of prior experience. Just locally grown flowers, a brush, a palette of colour, and a little space to reconnect with the pleasure of making something by hand.
Three days of flowers, paint, and quiet focus
The workshop tent became a gentle pause within the wider flower show. Outside, there was plenty to see and do. Inside, the rhythm changed.
People sat down, chose their colours, looked closely at the flowers in front of them, and began to notice details that are easy to miss. The soft curve of a petal. The darker edge of a leaf. The way one colour shifts into another when the light catches it.
That is one of the joys of botanical painting. It asks you to slow down.
Over the three days, each workshop followed a similar structure, but every session had its own feeling. Some groups were chatty at the start, then gradually became absorbed in their work. Others were quiet from the beginning, with only the soft sound of brushes in water and paint mixing on palettes.
By the end of each session, the tables were filled with very different bouquets. Some were bright and loose. Some were soft and delicate. Some were bold and expressive. Nobody painted the same picture, even when working from similar flowers.
That variety is exactly what makes teaching watercolour so rewarding. The aim was never to make everyone paint in the same way. It was to give people enough guidance to feel confident, then let their own hand and eye take over.
Helping people feel confident with watercolour
Watercolour can feel unpredictable when you first begin. It moves. It blooms. It dries lighter than expected. Add too much water and the colour can disappear. Add too little and the brush may drag across the paper.
A big part of the workshops was showing that these quirks are not mistakes. They are part of the medium.
I shared simple, technical tips throughout each session, especially around the three areas that make the biggest difference for beginners.
How to mix colours with more confidence
Colour mixing can feel confusing when you are faced with a palette and a blank page. Rather than starting with complicated theory, we focused on observation.
I encouraged everyone to look carefully at the flowers in front of them and ask simple questions:
Is this pink warm or cool?
Does this green lean more yellow or blue?
Where is the colour strongest?
Where does it fade?
From there, we built colours slowly. A little pigment first, then more if needed. Watercolour is easier to deepen than it is to lighten once it is on the page, so patience helps.
One of the most useful lessons was that botanical colour is rarely flat. A petal might look pink at first glance, but closer inspection may reveal peach, mauve, cream, and a deeper rose near the centre. Leaves are rarely just green. They might include yellow, olive, blue, brown, or even a touch of red.
Mixing those subtle shifts made each bouquet feel more natural.
How to hold the brush with ease
Many people instinctively grip a brush as if they are writing with a pen. That can work for fine details, but it can also make the hand tense.
During the workshops, I showed how changing the way you hold the brush changes the marks you make. Holding it close to the tip gives more control for small lines and details. Holding it further back creates looser, more flowing marks.
This was a small adjustment, but it made a big difference.
Once people relaxed their grip, their brushstrokes often became more confident. Leaves looked less stiff. Petals had more movement. Stems became lighter and more natural.
A brush does not need to be forced across the page. It works best when the hand guides it rather than controls every millimetre.
How brush pressure changes the whole painting
Brush pressure was another key part of the sessions. It is one of those details that can transform a painting quickly.
A light touch creates fine lines, soft edges, and delicate stems. More pressure lets the belly of the brush spread, making fuller petal shapes or broader leaves. Lifting the brush as you finish a mark can create a lovely tapered end.
We practised this in simple ways before applying it to the bouquet. Press, pull, lift. Light touch, fuller stroke, fine tip.
Once attendees understood how much range one brush could offer, they began to use it with more freedom. Instead of changing brush for every shape, they explored what was possible through pressure and movement.
That is often the moment watercolour starts to feel less intimidating.
The tent became a tranquil place to paint
The setting shaped the workshops as much as the painting did.
The tent was filled with locally grown flowers, which brought colour, scent, and texture into the space. Rather than working from printed images, attendees could look at real stems and blooms. That made the experience more sensory and more immediate.
There was something very peaceful about painting among flowers that had been grown nearby. They were not just decoration. They were part of the lesson.
The flowers gave everyone a starting point, but they also created the mood of the space. Soft petals on the tables. Gentle greens in glass jars. Natural forms everywhere you looked.
Then came the unexpected visitors.
Throughout the show, bumblebees and butterflies drifted in and out of the tent, drawn by the flowers. They added a lovely reminder that botanical art begins with real living things. We were not just painting pretty shapes. We were paying attention to plants, pollinators, and the small details of the natural world.
The atmosphere stayed quiet and tranquil, even with full workshops. People seemed to settle quickly once they began painting. The outside world softened for a while.
That calm mattered.
Creativity does not always need noise, speed, or spectacle. Sometimes it needs a table, a flower, a brush, and permission to take your time.
Many people rediscovered the joy of painting
One of the most moving parts of the three days was hearing how many people had not painted since school.
That sentence came up again and again.
“I haven’t done this since I was at school.”
Sometimes it was said with a laugh. Sometimes with uncertainty. Sometimes with surprise, once they realised they were enjoying it.
For many adults, painting can carry a strange pressure. People worry they will do it wrong. They compare themselves before they even begin. They remember being told they were “not artistic” years ago, and that thought lingers far longer than it should.
The workshops offered a chance to set that aside.
Nobody needed to be an artist to take part. The focus was on trying, observing, and enjoying the process. A wonky stem did not matter. A flower that turned out different from expected often had its own charm. A colour mix that surprised someone could become the best part of the page.
Quite a few attendees described the session as therapeutic. I understood what they meant. Painting can offer a quiet kind of focus. It gives the hands something gentle to do and the mind something simple to rest on.
Of course, a watercolour workshop is not a substitute for therapy. But creative time can feel restorative. It can help people breathe a little deeper, slow their thoughts, and leave with something they made themselves.
That feeling was visible at the end of each session. People looked at their paintings with a mix of relief, pride, and often surprise.
They had arrived unsure.
They left with a bouquet.
Why botanical watercolour suits a flower show so well
Rutland Flower Show was a wonderful setting for these workshops because botanical watercolour belongs naturally alongside growers, gardeners, flower lovers, and craft.
A flower show is full of people who already appreciate plants. Painting gives that appreciation another form. Instead of only looking at a bloom, you spend time studying it. You notice how it is built. You see the direction of its petals and the way its colours change from base to tip.
That kind of looking creates a deeper connection with the subject.
Botanical painting also suits a show environment because it is accessible. You can begin with a small set of materials. You do not need a studio. You do not need hours and hours. Even a short workshop can give someone a finished piece and the confidence to try again at home.
For anyone who loves flowers but has never tried painting them, watercolour is a beautiful place to start. It captures softness well. It allows for delicate layers. It can be loose and expressive or careful and detailed, depending on the painter.
The medium matches the subject.
A petal is rarely solid or heavy. Watercolour understands that.
A few favourite moments from the three days
When I think back over the show, I remember the small moments most clearly.
The attendee who arrived nervous, then quietly became absorbed in mixing the perfect shade of green.
The person who said they had avoided painting for years, then smiled when their first flower took shape.
The tables covered in different versions of the same idea, each bouquet showing a different personality.
The bumblebee that wandered into the tent as if it had come to inspect the flowers.
The hush that settled during each session once everyone had begun painting.
Those moments are the reason I love teaching creative workshops. The finished paintings matter, of course. People want to leave with something they feel proud of. But the experience of making the painting matters just as much.
For some, it was a chance to learn a new skill.
For others, it was a peaceful hour in the middle of a busy day.
For many, it was a reminder that creativity does not have an expiry date. Even if the last time you held a brush was at school, you can still begin again.
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