Nothing Rhymes

It can be the color of the start of a golden day, it can be the color of the October moon…it is the color of a winter’s fire, it is the last color of an ember.

It is the color of honey, it is the color of the horizon on a flight at 35,000 feet sometime around dusk…if you’re heading west.

It is between the angry red and the mellow yellow.  It is associated with the unconventional, amusement…like cut flowers. It is associated with danger, aroma, taste…Autumn.  

The beauty of a  tree on fire with its leaves in full death-bloom.  Fleetingly fast…before changing to simple browns and falling.

Turbulent blues offset the fineness of the color, the straight contrast.  It is heat against cold.  It is day versus night.  It is a beginning…the color of something starting, alighting, catching flames…it is the color of smoldering.

It is van Gogh in a letter to his brother:   "searching for oppositions of blue with orange, of red with green, of yellow with violet, searching for broken colours and neutral colours to harmonize the brutality of extremes, trying to make the colours intense, and not a harmony of greys.

Monet’s painting, Impression, Sunrise coined an entire art movement.

It is a difficult color, it is sometimes maddening.  The sun only stays in that mood for just a bit, usually earliest in the morning.  The moon?  Only in certain times, and only for a bit. 

You have to capture it, remember it…try to keep it in your mind’s eye.

Broken colors…I like that…they imply disrupting…upsetting the normal…uneven keels…slippery slopes…some danger perhaps…willingly going along anyways.

Starting a day with a hint of it…finding a blue evening with just a touch of it…

 I like to think that you are like that…stunningly stark against the grays of everyone else…enough to inspire your own art movement.

Cold. Dark.  Gray.

Warm. Orange. You.