Everything I do begins with color. My very thoughts are infused with them. My clothes reveal color fixations; my garden endures color experiments. In my mind each day of the week has a color. My memory is less about what I did than what color I remember: the pale blue staircase to my great-grandmother's attic. The red rock cliffs of Mauritania. That puce green cardigan I wore to the coffee shop in college.
All my projects begin with a color that indicates emotion and purpose to me.
When I was a letterpress printer I used the Pantone color book to mix ink for the press. Now I'm a mother, and no longer a printer. But I still need to work with color, in whatever form I have time for.
I was thinking about the coming year and the things I want to create, and the first thing I decided to make was my own version of a color book. Mine follows the logic of how I see the seasons in my part of the world (and in my own brain), with each leaf representing one month. In this photo above you see January, February and March.
January for me is a month of blue and white, grey and black, sparkle and dullness. For my January color strip, I painted two shades of blue and one of charcoal. My projects for the month, both with the kids and for myself, will involve things related to the winter sky. I'll be sharing them with you in the coming weeks.
If you want to make your own version of this little experiment--call it a color book, color wheel, or paint chip collection, as you like--just find some scrap paper and color. I used handmade paper and watercolors, and I painted my little squares without much concern for exactitude. My leaves are approximately 6 inches by 1 and 3/4 inches, and the size was dictated in part by the scraps I had available.
I hope everyone is enjoying the new year, with new projects and new beginnings.
