Creativebug How did your first week of foraging and capturing color go? Some days, when the light is right and the colors flow, are delightful. Other days — not so much. But there’s always tomorrow, that’s the constancy and forgiveness of a daily practice. Maybe it’s because I’m a writer, but I’ve found that naming colors helps me to distinguish nuance and see more. Have you ever tried to remember a color? It’s nearly impossible without language.
As I mentioned last week, my Pacific Northwest winter garden is filled with quiet colors: grey, brown, white, and deep green. But if I stop there, I’ll miss out on subtle but rich colors that connect me with nature.
Noticing reveals the invisible. Select a botanical or a scrap of nature that at first glance is all one color but on closer examination reveals a multiplicity of hues. Suddenly, every fallen leaf is more interesting.
Naming colors expands and specifies our observations. And it’s fun! What’s more, naming colors puts us into a conversation with others by tapping into our shared experience. When color, memory, and association collide, our fluency with color improves. Flex your perception and try to look beyond “brown” leaves. Naming coffee, caramel, bronze, rust, and amber helps to identify and describe various expressions of brown. Suddenly, you’re seeing more than you did at first glance.
I collect colors. I keep a running list of color names that I refer to often, especially when I’m feeling depleted and my colors are dull. Another way to describe a grey pebble or cloudy sky might be silver, ash, or pewter. I’d rather look at silver skies than grey clouds any day. Likewise, routinely painting my shell collection challenges me to interpret different shades of white, like oyster, linen, chalk, snow, opal. You probably get the idea, but I could go on all day.
Life can seem colorless and blah at this time of the year. Yet winter has its own, however subtle color palette. This week, as you’re casting about for something to paint, look for the soft colors of the season, bleached driftwood and shells, a sprig of evergreen, or even a study of the gravel in your pathway. I dream of creating a snow color study, but those weather conditions are rare in my place.
In addition to capturing the colors of your piece of nature, create a list of names for the hues as you’re mixing them. Naming colors opens our eyes to more of the same.
This is the second of four weekly blog posts to encourage you to develop your own color practice. For more inspiration and daily prompts, check out Color In and Out of the Garden. All 31 lessons are free to watch this month.
Lorene Edwards Forkner is a gardener, author, artist and teacher. She lives a garden-based life in the Pacific Northwest, specifically in an old house near the beach in West Seattle. This tiny plot is her living workshop and testing ground where she pursues seasonal pleasures, delicious flavors, and creative experimentation. She is the author of many garden-centric books including her newest, Color In and Out of the Garden, published by Abrams.