Friday, July 25, 2014
My mother took an art class once, a color theory class in which she cut expensive, saturated papers into small shapes she cobbled together seamlessly.
"Look at the subtlety of that blue," she'd say, and I'd strain my eyes and tilt my head and finally just nod, seeing nothing.
Our den was harvest gold, orange, and a strange shade of green, the wallpaper in our kitchen a red, white, and blue patchwork design, but my mother stared into her little papers like they held the secrets to the universe.
"Do you see how vibrant that gray is?"
Nod, nod, nod.