nothing, or turtles

Not all sunlight is created equal. (Or equally?) Today's sunlight in the studio is the glorious, drenching kind. The kind cats sleep in beams of on wooden floors — the kind I used to lie in on the floor of our dining room when I was a kid, thinking about nothing or turtles and watching dust float around. 

I'm spending the day with Robert Wyatt's Box Set. It's not for everyone, but none of the good stuff is, right? I have it on shuffle, otherwise I'm not sure how I'll ever hear the whole thing. He is good company.

And I'm making things in this lovely soft palette that can only be called Wes Anderson ...  palest gray, muted aqua, mint green, tan, perhaps a splash of yellow ... soft, warm, just a little sentimental and of course I'll add the quirkiness myself as I build clothes out of what could get cloying. I won't let that happen, I won't!

Spring hasn't hit here yet for real - the sun's warmth I'm feeling is still supplemented by the monster metal boiler downstairs, but sometimes we have to get the magic started on our own and wait for the real world to catch up with us.