Today, while at lunch, we both (Gabriel and I) saw Ive sitting in the great room, after we had wandered around the Cloisters all morning. He was sketching a cloister-garden (with quince trees, lace maple and dyer's herbs) on a pad in his lap. Tiny pots of watercolors were open on a table by his knee, and he dipped a tiny, delicate brush into one and started to touch color to a small patch of flowers.
He was wearing soft grey pants ("Yoga pants." Gabriel says.) and his feet were bare, bouncing idly.