Welcome! Many of us who love to draw and paint are drawn to the beauty of landscapes, aren't we?
Capturing that sense of atmosphere, the soft recession of hills into the distance, or the gentle play of light can be incredibly rewarding.
Watercolour pencils offer a wonderfully versatile way to achieve these effects, particularly for creating lovely, layered background washes.
In this article, we're going to take a slightly different approach to a tutorial.
Instead of a step-by-step guide to replicate an exact scene, we'll be diving into a process study.
In simple terms, this means we're focusing on the how and why behind an artist's work during its creation, from the initial techniques to the decisions made along the way, rather than just aiming to reproduce a final image.
We're fortunate to have a documented session from Peter Weatherill, the original founder of Pencil Topics from whom I took over the site upon his retirement, as he worked on a "Scottish Hillside" piece.
Our focus will be on exploring his method for creating atmospheric backgrounds using watercolour pencil washes lifted from a dry pigment palette – a fascinating and effective technique.
But just as importantly, we'll be observing how an artist makes decisions as a painting unfolds. We'll see Peter's compositional choices, his adjustments along the way, and his candid reflections on the process.
As you'll discover, not every artistic endeavour results in a 'masterpiece' ready for framing. Sometimes, the greatest value lies in the lessons learned from the journey itself – and Peter was always generous in sharing those.
While this particular piece presented some compositional challenges for him in its final stages, the techniques he employed for the background washes, and the insights into an artist's evolving vision, are incredibly valuable for any of us looking to develop our skills with watercolour pencils and our understanding of landscape art.
So, let’s explore Peter’s Scottish Hillside journey together and see what practical wisdom we can gather.
This particular exploration of creating a Scottish hillside scene began when Peter Weatherill demonstrated his technique for painting a background using watercolour pencils.
This took place during a workshop at Knuston Hall, and thankfully, he documented the process with photos, allowing us to learn from his session.
What I find particularly interesting is that Peter often painted such scenes from memory, composing the picture as he went along rather than working from a specific photo reference.
This approach really allows for spontaneity and for the painting to evolve organically, as we'll see.
Before we study Peter’s own words describing the initial steps, let’s take a look at the materials he chose for this demonstration:
It’s worth noting that links to specific products like the Caran d'Ache Supracolor pencils may be affiliate links. This means if you choose to purchase through them, I might earn a small commission at no extra cost to you, which helps support the running of Pencil Topics. I only recommend products I genuinely believe are of good quality and suitable for the techniques discussed.
Now that we've set the scene and looked at the tools, let's follow Peter's process.
One of the key methods Peter Weatherill used in this "Scottish Hillside" study, and a wonderfully versatile technique for creating soft, controlled watercolour washes from your pencils, is to prepare a temporary "palette" of dry pigment.
This allows you to lift colour with your brush and mix your washes to the desired consistency before applying them to your main artwork.
Here’s how he described setting it up:
Begin by scribbling your chosen pencils onto rough watercolor paper. Then moisten those patches, allowing them to be lifted with a brush and mixed with water to create thin, pale washes. It's best to prepare more pigment than needed, as you'll use very little and it's easier to make excess than to recreate a colour later.
This method of creating a 'palette' from your watercolour pencils is incredibly useful, especially when you want very delicate, controlled washes for something like a landscape background.
This technique really highlights how watercolour pencils can be used in a way that’s very similar to traditional pan watercolours, giving you great flexibility.
With his palette of liquid watercolour pencil washes prepared, Peter then began to build up the background for his Scottish Hillside scene. He described his approach for these initial layers:
I apply thin layers of colour wash to dampened, stretched paper, allowing the colour to flow smoothly over the surface. Since the actual colour is very thin, multiple layers are often needed to build a soft background effect.
Keep in mind that watercolour appears darker when wet than it will when dry.
I began painting the hills without a plan, leaving the unpainted white areas to potentially become a road or stream as the picture evolves. For the sky, I started with two layers of pale blue, derived from a darker, purplish ultramarine.
Although the photo quality isn't ideal, you can still see how each thin layer of colour builds on the previous one, allowing for total control over the graded colour.
To give you a clearer view, here's a scaled-up portion of the washes with adjusted colours.
This stage of Peter's process really highlights a couple of key things for anyone learning to create landscape backgrounds with watercolour pencils:
The Beauty of Layered Washes: Applying multiple, very thin layers of colour, as Peter did, is a fantastic way to achieve subtle gradations and a real sense of atmospheric depth. Each transparent layer interacts with the one beneath it, creating luminous and complex colours that are hard to achieve with a single, heavy application. It gives you incredible control.
Working on Dampened Paper: Peter mentions applying the wash to "dampened, stretched paper." Working on pre-dampened paper (where the whole sheet is lightly and evenly moistened with clean water and allowed to lose its initial shine) helps the washes flow very smoothly and encourages soft edges, which is often desirable for skies and distant landscape elements.
Of course, your paper must be properly stretched to handle this without excessive buckling!
Composing 'On the Fly' - Pros and Cons: Peter's admission that he "began painting the hills without a plan" is a very honest insight into one way artists sometimes work.
Observation about Wet vs. Dry Colour: Peter's reminder that "watercolour appears darker when wet than it will when dry" is a vital one. Always allow your washes to dry fully to accurately judge their value and intensity before deciding to add more layers."
After establishing the initial soft, atmospheric layers, Peter then began to give more definition to the landscape and make more concrete compositional choices. He described this stage as follows:
I've developed the colour washes, defining the left-hand hills as mountains and adding a darker line of hills on the right.
As I progress, I make decisions on background details on the fly.
The next step was to add shadows along the road and stream edge. Although the overall subject is still unclear, the hillsides are taking on a Scottish feel, with warmer, golden colours emerging in the foreground.
Watching Peter develop these washes and start to define the forms in his landscape is fascinating, and there are some really key takeaways here for anyone learning to paint with watercolour pencils, especially for landscape work:
This stage of Peter's painting really showcases how an artist interacts with the medium, making decisions and adjustments as the landscape begins to emerge from those initial washes. It's a blend of technique and intuitive response.
Peter continued to build upon the initial washes, making significant adjustments as the scene evolved. He notes:
I added more ochre washes to the green, then stepped back to reassess the picture.
I've since introduced Highland cattle on the right and trees in the middle distance.
To create contrast, I applied darker shading to the left-hand side of the high ground in the distance. I've also decided to replace the road in the foreground with a stream, which will add more interest to the scene.
This stage really highlights the dynamic nature of working with watercolour and composing as you go. Peter isn't afraid to make quite substantial changes, like replacing the road with a stream. This is a great example of how a painting can tell you what it needs if you're open to listening.
The introduction of the Highland cattle is a classic focal point for a Scottish scene, and it's interesting to see how he's beginning to place them.
Notice how the darker shading on the distant hill starts to push it back, enhancing that sense of depth we talked about earlier – a subtle but effective use of atmospheric perspective and value contrast.
Adding the ochre to the green would likely warm up those areas, perhaps suggesting sunlight on the hills, and it's a good reminder that greens in a landscape are rarely just one 'green'. Layering different tones, even subtly, creates a much more believable and interesting effect.
The decision to change the road to a stream is a significant compositional choice.
Streams can act as wonderful leading lines, guiding the viewer's eye into the picture. It also introduces a different texture and reflective quality to the foreground, which can add a lot of visual interest. It shows courage to alter a key element like this mid-process, but sometimes those bold decisions are exactly what a piece needs to come alive.
Peter writes:
I applied a damp brush to the dry pencil areas, to intensify the colors in the background.
Next, I added more green shading to the grazing areas and distant lower ground, but I'm not convinced it's an improvement. I'll correct this once I decide on my next step.
It's quite common with watercolour techniques to re-wet areas to intensify colours, as Peter has done here with a damp brush on the background. This can really make those earlier layers sing and can also help to further meld the washes together beautifully.
His next step, adding more green shading, and his immediate uncertainty about it, is something I think every artist can relate to!
That moment of "Have I taken this too far?" or "Was that the right decision?" is all part of the creative journey.
It’s especially common when you’re trying to balance different elements in a landscape – in this case, the vibrancy of the foreground grazing area against the softer, more distant hills.
What’s particularly valuable here is Peter’s honesty. He acknowledges his doubt and makes a mental note to correct it.
This is a crucial part of the artistic process: stepping back, assessing critically (but not harshly!), and being willing to adjust.
It’s not about getting everything perfect on the first go; it’s about responding to what you see unfolding on the paper and making informed decisions for the next steps.
This uncertainty also flags up an important aspect of watercolour pencils (and traditional watercolours): once a colour is down, especially if it's a staining pigment or has dried thoroughly, it can be challenging to lift or alter completely.
So, there's always a balance between confident application and cautious development, especially if you're not entirely sure about a colour choice or its placement.
It also foreshadows the challenges that can arise when trying to balance different areas of a painting.
Sometimes, strengthening one area can inadvertently weaken another or throw off the overall harmony. This is where considering the composition as a whole, rather than just isolated sections, becomes so important.
The exploration continued, but Peter found that his next compositional choices led him to a point of no return:
I experimented with adding trees on either side, but it was a mistake.
The additions overpowered the subtle hills on the right, disrupting the picture's balance. Despite my best efforts to correct it, I ultimately abandoned the piece.
Peter concludes with a pragmatic reflection:
However, it still serves its original purpose: demonstrating the use of underpainting to create a watercolor background.
The composition issues were entirely my own doing.
This is such an honest and valuable conclusion from Peter.
Many artists, especially those starting out, can feel that abandoning a piece is a sign of failure.
But as Peter demonstrates, it’s often a sign of acute artistic awareness and a sensible decision when a piece has gone in a direction that no longer works.
The issue he identifies – the trees overpowering the subtle hills and disrupting the balance – is a common challenge in landscape painting.
It’s easy for elements added later, especially if they are darker or more prominent, to steal attention from areas you intended to be more delicate or distant.
This highlights the importance of stepping back frequently and assessing the overall impact of each addition, not just its isolated execution.
His point about the composition issues being "entirely my own doing" is also key.
It’s not a failing of the materials or the techniques themselves; the watercolour pencil background washes, as he notes, served their purpose beautifully in creating that initial soft atmosphere.
The struggle came with how the subsequent elements were integrated (or not) into a harmonious whole.
This is a critical distinction: technique can be perfect, but if the composition is flawed, the painting may not succeed.
What can we, as aspiring artists, take away from this?
Ultimately, Peter’s decision to abandon the piece, and his clear-eyed assessment of why, offers a more profound lesson than if he had simply produced a perfect painting.
It normalises the trial-and-error nature of art and reinforces the idea that critical self-assessment is a vital tool for growth.
Peter sums up his own learning from this particular painting experience:
The moral of the story is clear: starting with a reasonable composition is better than working without a guide. You can always make changes, but working blind can lead to disappointing results.
This exercise, however, demonstrates how to build a background by layering watercolor pencil washes.
Starting with a reasonable composition makes the process smoother, especially when creating subtle, scenic backgrounds.
Looking back at Peter Weatherill's journey with his "Scottish Hillside," it’s clear that while the painting itself didn't reach a traditional 'finished' state, the process offers us a wealth of insights.
This was never about creating a perfect, step-by-step replica, but rather about peeking behind the curtain to understand an artist's decision-making, technical application, and even those moments of critical reassessment.
One of the most significant takeaways, as Peter himself highlighted, is the profound impact of compositional awareness.
While the initial watercolour pencil washes beautifully established an atmospheric background, the later introduction of stronger elements, like the trees, demonstrated how easily a composition can become unbalanced if not carefully considered.
It underscores the value of preliminary planning, perhaps through quick thumbnail sketches, to explore different arrangements before committing to more permanent layers.
Even if you enjoy a more intuitive approach, regularly stepping back to assess the overall harmony, as Peter did, is vital.
This study beautifully illustrates the importance of embracing "mistakes" and the entire learning journey.
Peter's candidness about the trees being a "mistake" and his ultimate decision to abandon the piece isn't a tale of failure; it's a testament to an experienced artist's discerning eye and knowing when further effort might not yield the desired outcome.
For anyone learning coloured pencils, or indeed any art medium, it’s crucial to remember that not every piece will be a masterpiece.
Some pieces are explorations, some are technical practice, and some, like this one, become invaluable lessons in what not to do next time, or how to approach a similar challenge differently.
There's immense value in that.
Finally, Peter's process here gives us a glimpse into an artist's intuition and decision-making in action.
From the initial energetic washes to adding the cattle, then attempting to adjust with the trees, we see a series of choices, responses, and evaluations.
Art making is rarely a purely linear path from A to B.
It involves listening to the artwork, trusting your instincts (even when they tell you something isn't working), and having the courage to change direction or, as in this case, to decide that the exploration itself has served its purpose.
So, while this particular Scottish hillside scene might not hang in a gallery, the techniques explored and the compositional lessons learned are incredibly useful for any aspiring artist looking to develop their skills and their artistic judgment.
Peter Weatherill’s journey with this Scottish Hillside piece reminds us that every artwork, whether it ends up framed on a wall or tucked away in a sketchbook, carries valuable lessons.
The path of an artist is filled with moments of experimentation, unexpected turns, and insightful discoveries.
Have you had a similar experience where a painting or drawing didn't quite go as planned but ended up teaching you something crucial about your technique, your materials, or your creative process?
Perhaps you discovered a new way to blend colours, a compositional approach that didn't quite work, or simply the wisdom of when to pause and reassess.
These "lessons learned" are an essential part of growing as an artist. If you have a story of your own artistic discoveries or an "oops!" moment that turned into a valuable insight, I'd genuinely love to hear about it. You can share your experiences via my Contact Page.
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