Color
Monogram turned gif (before AI made art automatic and easily manufactured.)
There was something about the sky today, that sharp blue, the way the light sifted through the leaves, turning them a kind of electric green that I hadn’t noticed in a while. It was strange, the way the colors leapt at me, pulled me out of myself for a moment. I wasn’t even thinking about it; I just wanted to capture the scene on my phone, a casual gesture really, but when I looked at the image afterward, it startled me. I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t in a long time, something like relief, or maybe even joy.
I’ve spent so many years working in black and white, drawn to it for reasons that seemed clear to me at the time. It’s where I feel most comfortable, where I can strip things down to their essence. When you take away color, what’s left? The textures, the contrasts, the stark play of light and shadow. I’ve always believed that black and white photography forces you to look more closely, to pay attention to the essential details of a scene or a person. Without the distraction of color, the world becomes a series of shapes and lines, of forms that speak to you in a quieter, more intimate way.
And there’s a kind of purity in that, isn’t there? The idea that you can find the heart of something if you remove all the noise, all the excess. I’ve always found that compelling. It’s why I’ve stuck with black and white for so long, why I’ve been hesitant to stray from it. It’s a way of seeing the world that’s become second nature to me. But then there was today, that quick snap of the sky and the trees, and suddenly, color was speaking to me in a way it hadn’t before.
It’s funny, because of course, I see in color. We all do, unless something has gone wrong with our eyes. But metaphorically, I’ve always thought of myself as someone who views the world in black and white, who reduces things to their simplest form, who seeks out clarity and structure in a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming. Black and white photography has been my way of making sense of it all, of focusing my attention on what really matters.
But what if color isn’t just a distraction? What if it’s something more, something that can add layers of meaning rather than obscure them? I think of William Eggleston, whose work I’ve admired for so long that I named my dog after him. There’s something about the way he uses color that’s always fascinated me, the way he can take the most mundane scenes and infuse them with a kind of quiet significance. His photographs are full of these ordinary moments that become almost transcendent through his use of color. The reds and blues and greens in his work aren’t just there for decoration; they’re integral to the story he’s telling, to the mood he’s creating.
Eggleston’s photographs remind me that color can be just as powerful, just as essential as any texture or line in black and white photography. It’s not about one being better than the other, but about what each can offer, what each can reveal. And maybe that’s what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been too stubborn to see. There’s something about color that can make you feel in a way that black and white can’t, something that connects you to the world in a different, perhaps even deeper way.
When I looked at that photograph today, at the vivid blues and greens, it felt like a shift inside me. Maybe it’s just a simple thing, just a photo, but it felt like more than that. It made me realize that maybe I’ve been seeing things too narrowly, that I’ve been limiting myself without even knowing it. Maybe, after all this time, I’m finally ready to start seeing in color again.
And maybe that’s a metaphor for how I’ve been feeling this past year, or maybe it’s just about photography, but either way, I think it’s time to start exploring what color can do, what it can bring to my work, to my life. I’m not saying I’ll abandon black and white altogether, but I think I’m ready to open myself up to the possibility that color has something to offer me, something I’ve been missing without even realizing it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that it feels like something is changing. Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s just the way I’m seeing the world, but either way, I think it’s time to embrace it. To start seeing the color again, in my photographs, and in everything else.
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August 17, 2024
I’ve spent so many years working in black and white, drawn to it for reasons that seemed clear to me at the time. It’s where I feel most comfortable, where I can strip things down to their essence. When you take away color, what’s left? The textures, the contrasts, the stark play of light and shadow. I’ve always believed that black and white photography forces you to look more closely, to pay attention to the essential details of a scene or a person. Without the distraction of color, the world becomes a series of shapes and lines, of forms that speak to you in a quieter, more intimate way.
And there’s a kind of purity in that, isn’t there? The idea that you can find the heart of something if you remove all the noise, all the excess. I’ve always found that compelling. It’s why I’ve stuck with black and white for so long, why I’ve been hesitant to stray from it. It’s a way of seeing the world that’s become second nature to me. But then there was today, that quick snap of the sky and the trees, and suddenly, color was speaking to me in a way it hadn’t before.
It’s funny, because of course, I see in color. We all do, unless something has gone wrong with our eyes. But metaphorically, I’ve always thought of myself as someone who views the world in black and white, who reduces things to their simplest form, who seeks out clarity and structure in a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming. Black and white photography has been my way of making sense of it all, of focusing my attention on what really matters.
But what if color isn’t just a distraction? What if it’s something more, something that can add layers of meaning rather than obscure them? I think of William Eggleston, whose work I’ve admired for so long that I named my dog after him. There’s something about the way he uses color that’s always fascinated me, the way he can take the most mundane scenes and infuse them with a kind of quiet significance. His photographs are full of these ordinary moments that become almost transcendent through his use of color. The reds and blues and greens in his work aren’t just there for decoration; they’re integral to the story he’s telling, to the mood he’s creating.
Eggleston’s photographs remind me that color can be just as powerful, just as essential as any texture or line in black and white photography. It’s not about one being better than the other, but about what each can offer, what each can reveal. And maybe that’s what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been too stubborn to see. There’s something about color that can make you feel in a way that black and white can’t, something that connects you to the world in a different, perhaps even deeper way.
When I looked at that photograph today, at the vivid blues and greens, it felt like a shift inside me. Maybe it’s just a simple thing, just a photo, but it felt like more than that. It made me realize that maybe I’ve been seeing things too narrowly, that I’ve been limiting myself without even knowing it. Maybe, after all this time, I’m finally ready to start seeing in color again.
And maybe that’s a metaphor for how I’ve been feeling this past year, or maybe it’s just about photography, but either way, I think it’s time to start exploring what color can do, what it can bring to my work, to my life. I’m not saying I’ll abandon black and white altogether, but I think I’m ready to open myself up to the possibility that color has something to offer me, something I’ve been missing without even realizing it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that it feels like something is changing. Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s just the way I’m seeing the world, but either way, I think it’s time to embrace it. To start seeing the color again, in my photographs, and in everything else.
August 17, 2024