Pleasures - A Life in Colour

Inspiration from JB Priestly's book "Delight"

All photos author’s own.

This was one of those weeks when despite having a hundred and one things I could have written about, for some reason my eyes just kept staring blankly at the screen and my fingers kept wandering off to the kettle and the now empty packet of Kitkats instead of behaving themselves on the keyboard. No words it seemed wanted to venture out onto the page.

And then one of those perfectly timed instances happened when a reader left a comment and inspiration came out of the blue. “Being connected” was duly noted and has been added to my list of pleasures.

Pleasures, my last post, included a few lines written in response to the poem of the same name by Berlolt Brecht, basically a list of just some of the things that bring pleasure into our daily lives.

In response to that post I received a comment from

lizwood

suggesting I may like JB Priestly’s Delight, a book containing a series of short essays on the many things from Priestly’s world that brought him joy. A book new to me, I ordered a copy which arrived quickly and I can concur, it is indeed a delight. Over one hundred short essays on everything from orchestras tuning up, meeting a friend, smoking in the bath, waking to smell bacon, answering back and the humorous preparing for old age.

Written in 1949 and with references to life in the preceding decades, some of the events and objects are very much of their time (although “Making a Stew” could have been written yesterday) the book nevertheless offers a fascinating glimpse into the world he inhabited and his life on a personal level. I am enjoying picking it up and reading a selection of chapters at random, one of my favourites so far being the joys of “Cosy Planning” - warm nights by the fire with a loved one, pencil and paper in hand, planning a future event:

“…but through all the pipes and channels of the plan there flows the warm current of your feeling for each other, and the whole business is securely and nourishingly rooted in a deep personal relationship.”

I wish I could find the words and put them in the right order to say something so expressive about something so mundane.

Reading Priestly’s short essays gave me the idea of expanding on some of the things I included in my poem in the post Pleasures. I have chosen “colour” to begin with. Such a significant and essential part of my life, woven into everything I do from painting, photography, cooking, decorating and now writing. So easily taken for granted as we go about our day to day routines but in my opinion colour should be on everyone’s list of things they wouldn’t want to be without.

COLOUR

I have tried to live in a house painted with white walls. Modern country cottages so beautifully photographed in design magazines with perfectly plumped cushions artfully placed on unmarked cream sofas do appeal to me visually, they appear so calm and serene. Quiet, colourless rooms, soft on the eye and always with a comfortable chair, carefully placed to sit to read a book in peace.

Then I jump back to reality as my mind pictures the muddy dog bounding in, leaping up on the pristine sofa, knocking mugs of tea over the white linen cushions, followed closely by Michael plonking himself down, spilling red wine and putting his booted feet up on the white upholstered foot stall.

Don’t get me wrong, I love white. I appreciate the messages it conveys to the brain: cleanliness, purity, innocence, even a sense of spirituality. Some of my favourite flowers are white, white gardens are always a joy to behold, tranquil and peaceful, often places of reflection and contemplation.

Of course there are times when like everyone else I find myself wanting a quiet moment or a place to be mindful and relaxed. For me that doesn’t mean sitting still in a colourless room. For me that means a walk in the forest, a long bath, five minutes with my eyes shut, some gentle gardening or finding a creative outlet to quieten the noise of the day.

But for sheer joy, for making the heart sing and the soul soar give me colour.

I would wither in a world without colour. Sitting here I am looking at the countless colours peppering the garden, the verdant emeralds and jades of the Summer greens sliding into the siennas and saffrons of the Autumn. The colours of the birds flitting to and from the bird feeder and scuttling in and out of the bushes, not just the bright blues and yellows of the tits but the different browns of the wren and the delicate soft pinky greys of the collared doves. The fading remains of the apricot roses, dark red sedum flowers, the brilliant yellow of the decaying hostas, now over for another year.

Seascape - Lindsey Dickson

Watercolour sketch - Lindsey Dickson

I often wonder how difficult it would be to describe the vibrancy and energy of a bright orange to a blind person. The positivity of green, colour of nature, growth and fertility. The rich, luxurious hues of magentas and maroons, plums and purples. All this colour everywhere we look, to excite, to mesmerise, to inspire, to make us feel alive. White, while it can be inviting, tempting the artist to make a mark, does not motivate me to be creative, which is why my studio, horror of horrors to some people no doubt, is painted blue.

My old art teacher said to me many years ago, “The trouble with people, they look but they don’t see.” I honestly do not think he expected me to remember his wise words 50 years on, but I do. I make a point of seeing there is not one pink in a dahlia but more than I can count, the different shades of blue in the sky, the intricate brindle of the dog, the colours used with such spellbinding effects in works of art, eggshells, mackerel, eyes, skin, a single tomato.

There is nothing like colour, it is the perfect gift, to be treasured.

Thank you Liz (and JB Priestly) for the inspiration.

Lots of love,

Lindsey x