Slip Light Blues, 2015 – Michaela Harlow – 24″ x 24″, Oil and Oil Bar on Panel
I listened to a discussion about the perception of sky color on Radiolab the other day and suddenly found myself in tears. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what caused the reaction. Color perception is a loaded issue for me, but still …Tears? Maybe I’m just more emotional than usual lately. The trigger had to do with a little girl named Alma being told that the sky is blue, when she previously had no color assigned for the heavens above her. She refused to accept her father’s description at first —defining the sky as “white”— but eventually she acquiesced. It was the moment of accepting another’s reality that caught in my throat. Was it the loss of innocence?
I stepped out into the driveway and looked above me, then down to a melting pool of ice at forest’s edge. I felt shaken. Blue was the last color to be named and perhaps even the last perceived; rare, luminous and pure, with a touch of melancholy.