Apologies to Otis Redding for the title of this post. But it describes pretty well a morning I had at the latest Artistes dans les parcs event. It was all my fault. Sometimes I forsake rational thinking while choosing a sketching subject.
This event took place at a spiritual retreat site that looks like it has its roots as a home for the upper crust. The grounds are huge and high on a hill that overlooks the St. Lawrence River. Almost all of the participants set up easels in a shady area so they could paint the coastline. Those were the smart ones because we were in the middle of a heat wave with pressing heat and humidity.
Me, I took a different approach. I decided to sketch a bunch of stairs. My thinking was simply that I needed practice sketching stairs. I didn’t think about the fact that to do so required that I sit out in the open, in bright sun, and that I would sweat myself to become ill from the process. I cooked, and cooked, and cooked, more concerned about lilies and concrete than how I was feeling.
When I came out of my sketching fog I realized I wasn’t feeling that great. Only then did I realize that I was light-headed and dripping with sweat. I headed for some shade. Then I realized that I had forgotten to bring a waterbottle. All I had to drink was my back up water for painting, all 30ml of the stuff. I drank that and then waited for the little bit of breeze to cool me down. In the end I was fine, with only a hint of stupid to chew on. I did go home early, however. It was just too hot to be out without water.