Rain poured down in Southern California for two days.  My studio door was open for the light, letting in every extra ray I could seduce into the room.  It was grey, blue, wet and dark, heady with muted colors and penetrating dampness.  Outside my door, the only color visible was red tail lights of cars maneuvering down the street trying to avoid fallen palm fronds.  A song played repeatedly in my head: 

"Seems it never rains in southern California

Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before

It never rains in California, but girl, don't they warn ya?

It pours, man, it pours"

Every piece has a narrative...