As an artistic person (albeit one who cannot draw), I am mesmerized by color. I always have been. As a kid with colored pencils (I hated crayons – too waxy), I was intrigued by what colors looked good together. My favorite combo was purple and teal. I was about 7.
As a writer, I find it amusing how we use color to express ideas. For example:
- She was feeling blue/gray (sad).
- He looked a little green (sick). She was green with envy.
- He saw red (anger).
It’s funny, in writing it seems that colors, unless being used to describe a setting, clothing, etc., are never good. Why don’t we say “he was feeling orange” to mean he was happy? Or “she was teal with joy”? For some reason, it’s the negative analogies that survived.
In my mind, colors are splendid. Blue is beautiful, not melancholic. Red is stunning, not angry. Green is fresh, not jealous. And a nice splash of teal brings joy to my soul. Colors are powerful. They speak volumes without saying a word. They can express an idea or invoke a mood.
I think I’ll start using colors in positive analogies. Of course, I’ll have to explain them all, or possibly provide a key. But at least it would be a start. Maybe eventually we can give colors the respect they deserve.