Colour My World: Grey

I keenly feel for my friends back home this week, after our crocus sightings and then when daffodils started popping up in our garden. Living “up north” in the United States can be brutally beautiful. The prospect of several more months of bleak skies and cold temperatures is daunting for many. So I wanted to highlight the color grey in my color inspiration series this week, as an ode to Minnesota’s winters, as it were.

Because we work in a fairly industrial French city, there are a lot of examples of grey brickwork or grey sidewalks as well. For this post, my mind was stuck in Minnesota, so I chose mostly photos from “back home” as examples.

It’s more difficult for me to find examples of grey as an accent color in my photo collection. My eyes naturally get drawn to the brightest in the photos–much like when I wrote about brown here.

I’ve made 10 or 15 blankets with grey as a primary color in them. Grey always seems to set off the colors around it beautifully, like a best friend highlighting your “good bits” and smoothing over your failures for you. But grey as a solid (like the solid grey celtic blanket I made here) is lovely and cosy as well.

I wonder if you can find an instance of grey and focus on it as a beautiful piece of art this week. It might be difficult, but it may also help shift your perspective from “endless winter” to “understated elegance.”

Colour My World: Brown

My favorite colour was brown for a few years, until orange burst on the scene. But I’ve been thinking about doing a little colour play with brown. Here are a few bits from recently.

What I like best about brown is how it hides its beauty. Your eye is drawn to the objects with the brighter, flashier colours, and you really have to LOOK to see the browns. Nature’s own form of modest beauty.

And brown brings with it so many thoughts and memories. Flavors of cinnamon, chocolate, coffee, ginger. The smell of fresh dirt and spring. What does brown mean to you? What memories does it evoke for you?

Fresh bread baking?

Dirty toes?

Your grandma’s old shag carpet or 1970s wallpaper?

That fancy swirled design on your cup of coffee in a touristy spot?

The mud on your uncle’s boots as he came through the door?

The tree stump you sat on and watched the river go by while you wrote beatnik poetry?

Brown has such potency. It’s everywhere, but we need to open our eyes to be able to see it.