Walking at lunchtime, working out the ache after sitting too long in a long (but interesting) meeting, I became aware of the colours around me. I decided the colour of our city was terracotta (and shades thereof) and blue. Cerulean. Like the colours of the kotare – the kingfisher. I really like the colour combinations, especially when blended nicely with the pearl coloured light we sometimes get here.
I lived for a while in London and I think the colours of London are red and black. Not everything in London is red and black, of course, but to me there is a recurring theme – a kind of musical beat of red and black, with other colours playing their role in the orchestration.
I think Umberto Eco would try to convince me that this day dreaming in a haze of colour represents a subconscious attraction to the medieval – a quest for our roots. He argues we’ve been questing for the Middle Ages since the late fifteenth century. That’s when they ended. I think the middle ages start the day you turn 18, but then I don’t have a book about medieval monks to try to sell. Yet. I think Umberto is stuck in a eurocentric time warp – out here on the rim I’m more worried about fire and ice, terracotta and cerulean.
What colour is your city?