Last night I painted at a French Quarter courtyard wedding that I very foolishly did not expect to be so cold. My hands shook with each stroke, and I found myself giving inner Saints-themed pep talks: What would Alvin Kamara do? Just give up? Would Drew Brees stop driving the ball just because he’s a little cold?
Let me tell you I got through the evening not just because of my tenacity but because halfway through the coordinator moved me inside where my fingers thawed and I watched the party goers through the window.
Today’s painting is a little indulgent. But I did say I wanted to do some figure studies, no? Who dat.