a morbid tale becomes a comfortable dress

I had a picture book when I was a kid that has stuck with me, in ethereal ways, for decades. I remembered inky dense speckled eggs on matte paper, a snake and something about a chimney.  And the snake, all logy, with bulges in it from eating those eggs.

Fast forward to these internet times, and it turns out to be "The Crows of Pearblossom" - one of two children's book written by Aldous Huxley - well, wasn't I a fancy child?  And the eggs, snake and chimney were Barbara Cooney illustrations.  I am not surprised to hear that it is a morbid tale, and I look forward to reading it again.

In the meantime, here is a dress inspired by those dense speckled eggs:

Secret Lentil, now for your coffee table.

my stuff, in a book

Three of my pieces (Ethella, Mythical Katamari Cousin tunic, Faux Faux Bois dress, Homage to Doctor Zoidberg sweater) have just been published in the book 1000 Ideas for Creative Reuse: Remake, Restyle, Recycle, Renew.

I'm thrilled for all obvious reasons, but also because the book is designed really well and my work is in exceptional company. If you click on the link you can browse the pages. It was written and edited by the extremely enthusiastic Garth Johnson of Extreme Craft.

luxe-y me

Today's dreaming ... I got to the studio before sun-up today, did a lot of work and now I get to play. I'm going to see if these colors are willing to become a coat. It's been a while since I made a "Secret Lentil luxe" piece and I'm getting requests. I hope these will cooperate.

oh it's YOU.

ummm, the dressing room is not in this picture ...

Yesterday Mr. Lentil and I finished making the new dressing room in my studio. Come in and try things on! (I'm in The Delavan Center in Syracuse NY. Here's a map. ) The mister and I are at our best when building things out of nothing. We made this from old weathered wood that we found, a dropcloth that someone left in the grab pile in our warehouse, and the chartreuse ties used to be a tablecloth.

It's great meeting some of the lovely humans I've met over these internet tubes. I'm having a guest in from Toronto next week, a friendstomer I already love though we've never met in person. I'm a bit giddy about it, although I don't know how to tell her that I've never finished a Jane Austen novel. *cringing* I hope she'll forgive my literary transgressions.

You can call me (315...380...9610) or email to set up a time to visit.

names make all the difference

"glompod? is that you, boy?'

There's a word for it.
Words don't mean a thing.
There's a name for it.
Names make all the difference in the world. - David Byrne

A friend, who shall remain nameless for her protection, lives in one of our country's liberal hubs. I am jealous of the good restaurants she has access to, and the good shoes for sale, but mostly I marvel at her stories of the uptightness necessary to keep a place liberal. There are more rules there than at your average military encampment, but many of them are unwritten. It would prompt me to misbehave mightily, I fear.


It's better to visit once in a while, but mostly I just listen to her tales. The latest involved a woman who has eschewed a name, settling on a sound in its place. I don't know her reasoning, but it sure seems like it would just muck a lot of things up. Your attempt at becoming egoless, for instance, could make you bitter after you've explained it for the 12 thousandth time. I picture a sort of karmic "Wuh's on first" routine.

This is all to say: here is a sneak peak at a new bag I'm making. It needs a name. The good news is that I enjoy naming things. For some reason I want to call it Glompod, but that seems a bit gloomy.  But it's kind of a pod you glom on to. I promise I'll make a choice though, and not name it "That sigh that you sound when someone is slow at the register in front of you."