The Language of Colour

It was sort of sticking out of the ground at a weird angle, this crooked old tap. It was in a neglected part of a large garden. And that colour took hold of my attention far more than any surrounding flora or fauna. How odd that a chunk of metal could have that kind of power... nature almost always gets my heart above all other things.

I saw a picture of an artist's studio, whose walls were this shade of blue. Actually, the walls and ceiling were mostly glass... but between the small panes and on the back wall, this colour illuminated the whole room with whimsy and playfulness. How it must stir and delight an artist's imagination, to be surrounded on all sides by such a delicious hue.

I want to take a bite out of that blue. Lick it like a frozen popsicle. Swim in it.

If only I lived in a space that could support this kind of brilliance without it being overwhelming. I did paint this weekend. And there's no question this little tap played a roll in inspiring me to choose some new wall colours. I am now fully enveloped in the soft breath of powder blue and the slightest suggestion of muted green that shifts with the evolving light of day. The walls really do seem like they are breathing. So very gentle and soothing. These subtle tones speak a language my soul understands and responds to in the quietest of ways. No doubt, colour has a deep effect on our psyches.

My indoor spaces have come to life, glowing from the inside out, synching beautifully with the emergence of spring. Everything feels fresh and new again.