What Is a Painting Retreat — and Do You Have to Know How to Paint?

Somewhere in your house there is probably a set of watercolours. They might still be in the gift bag from three Christmases ago. Or the acrylics you bought during that week when you were really going to finally try something creative. There might be a sketchbook, pages still blank, sitting under other things on a shelf. You bought these with completely genuine intentions. And then real life came back and the days kept filling up and somehow the paint is still unopened.

This is not a personal failing. It is just extremely hard to give yourself the time and permission to make something when there are other, more urgent things pulling at you. A painting retreat is, at its core, a way of removing that problem entirely — because for three to seven days, the making is the whole point.

Searches for painting retreats have grown by 278% in the past three years, according to BookRetreats's 2026 State of Retreats report. That number reflects something real: a lot of people are looking for an experience that isn't just rest, isn't exercise, and isn't sitting in a seminar room. They want to do something with their hands. They want to make something they didn't know they could make.

What is a painting retreat?

A painting retreat is a residential programme that places creative art-making at the centre of the experience. You paint during the day — often with tuition, often outdoors in genuinely beautiful locations — eat together in the evenings, and stay in accommodation arranged so you're not thinking about anything else. Most programmes run three to seven days, with prices typically sitting between £600 and £2,000 depending on location and inclusions.

The majority are designed for people who have not painted seriously before. That is worth saying clearly, because it is the thing most people assume disqualifies them. The instruction tends to be focused on getting you into the experience — seeing colour, responding to light, letting go of the idea that the result needs to look a certain way — rather than drilling technique in the way an art school might.

Who actually goes on a painting retreat?

Mostly people who are not artists, is the honest answer. The typical participant is someone who has always felt drawn to making something creative but has never quite given themselves permission to do it properly. Sometimes it is a career transition moment — people between jobs, or recently retired, who want to do something that isn't about productivity. Sometimes it is parents whose children have grown up and who are figuring out what they actually enjoy. Sometimes it is people who are burned out from years of work that involves a lot of thinking and talking, and who need something that uses their hands and eyes in a completely different way.

What you tend not to find at most painting retreats is serious competition or judgment. People are there for the same vaguely embarrassing reason — they want to try something they've been putting off — and that creates an oddly warm atmosphere. Around 94% of solo participants at art retreats report making genuine connections with other guests, according to retreat booking platform data. It can turn out to be one of the more social experiences you've had in years, without it feeling like forced networking.

If you're an experienced artist looking for a serious technical workshop, some retreats cater to that too — they just tend to be smaller, more specialist, and described differently. Most of what's out there is built for beginners.

What to expect

The structure varies depending on the programme and location, but most painting retreats share a similar rhythm. Mornings usually start with some quiet time — a walk, breakfast, maybe a short meditation or breathwork session — before moving into the studio or heading outside to paint. The afternoon session tends to be the longest, and this is often where something unexpected happens: people who arrived saying "I can't draw a straight line" are four hours deep into a piece they're genuinely proud of.

Most programmes include:

• Daily tuition from a working artist, usually in small groups of six to fourteen people
• All materials provided — paints, canvases, brushes, easels — so there's nothing to buy or worry about before you arrive
• Mediums typically on offer include watercolour, acrylics, oil painting, and sometimes mixed media
• Communal meals, which tend to be the social heart of the retreat
• Optional evening activities — life drawing sessions, gallery visits, or just a glass of wine and conversation
• Accommodation either at the retreat centre itself or in nearby guesthouses

Popular locations lean heavily toward places that are beautiful to paint — Tuscany, Provence, the Algarve, the Scottish Highlands, and coastal Cornwall come up repeatedly. The landscape matters, because a lot of painting retreats involve working outdoors, and being somewhere visually rich changes the quality of what you make.

By day two, most participants describe something they didn't expect: getting absorbed. Genuinely, properly in it — not checking their phone, not running through the list of things they should be doing, just looking at a tree or a hillside and trying to figure out how the light lands. That state — psychologists call it flow — turns out to be one of the most restorative things a nervous system can experience.

The real benefits — beyond just coming home with a painting

The paintings are actually a secondary thing, for most people.

It gives your thinking brain a rest. Most demanding jobs are primarily mental — reading, writing, making decisions, managing people. Painting uses a completely different part of your attention: sensory, spatial, present-moment. A week of doing something genuinely different from your usual mode can feel more restorative than a week on a sunlounger.

It resets your relationship with difficulty. Learning a new skill as an adult is uncomfortable. You're a beginner again. That sounds unpleasant, and at first it is — but most people find that getting through it, and finding themselves capable of something they thought they couldn't do, quietly recalibrates something. They return home with a slightly different sense of what they're willing to attempt.

It creates uninterrupted time. One of the things retreats do that ordinary holidays don't is remove the decision-making overhead. You don't plan your day, choose where to eat, or navigate anything. For people who spend most of their time managing things, this turns out to be deeply, unexpectedly restful.

It offers connection without performance. Being bad at something together, in a beautiful place, with people you didn't know a week ago, is one of the stranger and more effective social experiences available. People talk about the friendships they make at painting retreats in a way they don't usually talk about holidays.

Questions people actually ask

Q: Do I have to be able to paint to come? A: No, and most retreats specifically say so. The instruction is built around helping you develop a relationship with the materials and the process, not testing existing ability. Many programmes start with exercises designed to loosen you up rather than teach precise technique.

Q: What medium should I choose? A: Watercolour is typically the most beginner-friendly — it's portable, forgiving about mess, and suited to the kind of loose, observational work most retreat programmes focus on. Acrylics dry fast and let you paint over mistakes. Oil is richer and slower, which some people love. Most retreats either let you choose or decide for you based on the programme style.

Q: How long does a first painting retreat need to be? A: Three days is enough to get over the initial self-consciousness and actually do something. Five to seven days is where most people report the experience really settling in. If you're not sure, start shorter — you can always return for longer.

Q: Are they good for solo travellers? A: Unusually, yes. Because everyone is focused on the same activity during the day, you're not dependent on finding your own entertainment or navigating group dynamics from scratch. Evenings tend to be naturally social, and the shared experience of being a beginner together tends to bring people together quickly.

Q: What happens to the paintings I make? A: You take them home. Most programmes make sure everything is dry and protected before you travel. A few people report feeling embarrassed to hang them up — and then finding, months later, that they have.

Where to start

If this sounds like the thing you have been meaning to get around to, Finding Retreats has a selection of retreats worth looking through — including creative and art-focused programmes across the UK, Europe, and beyond.

The watercolours aren't going to open themselves.