Sunday, April 17, 2011

reading in grey

When I exit the studio building, the sad green colors of emerging grass surrounded by all those dead greys and browns looks more intense than any colors people often moon about during summer. If exclamations of the color of nature aren't put into some kind of human-scale life context, I'm absolutely bored (this may be because I'm an indoor type, unless there are woods and fire-pits involved, because it's all about the smells and sounds). I've been using my laptop in the kitchen where I can see more of those beautiful greys out the window. I love the greys for several reasons: they signal a weather which isn't out to oppress and drain all signs of life-force, and they signal a muddiness visited and warmed by subtle shifts of light, rather than blasted by an indifferent constancy of light and its alien rays; in order to keep a good working schedule, it's easier to regulate light through greys rather than the relentlessness of light regulating me. And it's all about keeping a good work schedule.

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