Monday, December 11, 2006


I had survived the weight and hollowness of black and gray. When the color red saved my life, it was not just a color I saw. It was the essence of red that infused my spirit, redness itself that reached my inner being to feed and sustain me. Manlio Brusatin writes, “colors express altogether vital functions of human existence but do not belong to the pompous mechanics of the human heart. They belong rather to something more like breathing or the softer organs, which sustain life in a way nearly invisible from the primary bodily functions….Insects – creatures that seem sometimes to be all eyes, nothing but chromatic perception – seem to multiply colors according to the laws of their individual species, but their competitive economies, so to speak, are actually more simple. They use these moments of chromatic competition within their color-filled days to carry out their functions, living in color before being continuously, incessantly devoured or created anew in the form of other minuscule living beings. To believe in colors from this standpoint might mean dissolution into the dust of new lives, desires, and passions, endless disappearance and reappearance, on and on without end. Colors thus constitute the most serious deception, an adventure in dust and the habitual pain of living.”

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