As a little girl, my favorite color was red for the longest time, but then the Power Rangers came along and I switched it to yellow (because the Red Ranger was a boy and I wasn’t about to be like every other girl who liked the Pink Ranger.)
Colors are clearly emotional for me.
Yesterday I was painting a landscape for my husband (see below). He picked out the photo for me to study, and I now take a few hours at a time to layer on the colors of various sections. I was a little grumpy yesterday because I had to tint a certain ocher into a grayer, blander shade in order to match the color of the bushes.
In college, I wrote a short story about a woman who expressed how she felt through colors, and found it hard to meet people who understood her strange language. She fell in love with a man who dyed his hair a different hue every few days.
Colors speak to me on a level that many people don’t notice or feel.
The shades of green, black or gold around us all have an effect, whether or not we recognize it—at least this woman (me) who’s wearing the scarf that looks a stained-glass window seems to think so.
Does color affect your mood? Any stories about color changing your day or outlook?