Tag Archives: colours

166. Grey (colour 11)

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Grey can seem to some like a boring colour. We say a day is grey when it is overcast and the weather feels heavy and dull. But for me, it is the colour of storms, of change coming, and of the soft, velvet fur of a Persian cat. Rumbling of thunder, thunderous purring, rolling clouds, undulating feline fluffball. Both hold potential, of rain and affection, both might give instead, a fearsome show of growls accompanied by static electricity.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

 

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165. Pink (colour 10)

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Pink for me is the colour of vulnerability, of flesh and newness, of wounds that are just beginning to heal over. It reminds me of small animals’ noses, of tiny toes, of the softness of beautiful, open palms. It’s a colour that holds itself up and welcoming, hoping for love.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

164. Black (colour 9)

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Black is so beautiful, a contradiction as it simultaneously hugs all the light into itself and yet is also the shiniest colour there is. I can never see a black beetle without thinking of Small in Winnie-the-Pooh and how everyone went looking for him when he was lost, even though he was so tiny. Poor Eeyore was looking for an extra two days as no-one thought to tell him the little insect had been found. “That’s just what would happen,” he says.

Black is often used to illustrate what it missing, maybe because it can seem like emptiness, the space between stars, the depth of depression (something else Eeyore knows about) and the background to everything light. To me, black is a generous colour, because it makes the light brighter at its own expense, and it is kind to everyone. Who doesn’t look good in a little black dress or tuxedo?

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

163. Gold (Colour 8)

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My wedding band is deeply precious to me, for obvious reasons, but the way the light glints off the metal is a beautiful thing that often makes me catch my breath. I remember once giving a word from prayer to a lovely lady, which was to let her know that God appreciates her like a beautiful ring. He is always looking down and smiling at the sparkles and shine that she makes, and twiddling her around on his finger to show the facets of light.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

 

162. White (Colour 7)

 

 

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So many flowers are white, aren’t they, which seems odd when they are meant to attract insects. Most white blooms have a strong fragrance instead of a deep colour. Lilies especially make us think of purity, and yet have a heavy, pungent aroma, and their pollen stains dreadfully. I love white petals that have a translucent quality, ones that let the light shine through. They remind me of bridal veils and the robes of Ascension, whose dazzling whiteness would have made soap-powder companies weep.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

 

 

161. Orange (Colour 6)

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Orange seems a colour saturated in life, full of zest and cheerfulness. I always feel it’s a colour I can’t quite live up to, as though if I wore it, I would be living a lie somehow, being quite a serious introvert living with an energy disorder. And yet, this is hue that keeps on giving out its brightness, a concentrated juice that never stops flowing, and brings us the Florida sunshine and the Californian sky, spanning a continent coast to coast, and saying, “Yes, you too can guzzle down the dream!”

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

160. Purple (colour 5)

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Today’s piece is an excerpt from my book of devotions “Garden of God’s Heart” because I always think of azaleas when purple comes to mind.

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“Like an alien welcomed onto English Victorian soil where most foreigners were spurned, your exotic blooms made their home here in the grey and green, shivering despite wearing your bright, crinkle-edged shawls. Whenever I turn a garden path and see you I am back at Manderley again, down by the Cornish shore, on high, blustery pathways looking out to Smugglers’ Bay, feeling mysterious and windswept.

Your Eastern hues confound us; saffron and amethyst, spice and depth that intoxicate and cheer those of us used to smaller, more subtle (more Anglican) displays of glory. We are learning to see this is not ostentation, but your own natural way, free from artfulness, not tightlipped or anxious like us, but careless, unconscious self-abandonment, true liberty despite edging a rectangle of manicured green; caged and domesticated, but free in your colour-saturated vivacity.”

 

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

Garden of God’s Heart is available on Amazon, Lulu, and the Barnes and Noble website.

 

189: Gallery

189 Gallery photojock MF

Tucked away treasures, walls dripping with gems in slow oil and running in watercolour. Tints mixed with time and talent, hidden under this bushel. Find us then, and carry us home, gaze on our given glory. But do not keep us under wraps, gathering no dust in your collection box, pinned like butterflies, paralyzed by formaldehyde frames, never to breathe the free air again. For to live we must dazzle you with the subtle play of motes in the sunlight bouncing off our surfaces, moonwalking in the craters of creation, and like you, we must sing the songs we were given.

 

 

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from morguefile.com

 

142: Dancing on the Beach

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Stepping forth from the thawed crest of a frozen wave, I stand gazing, immobilized by the strangeness of the sand, and the space so alien before me. Born from the belly of the whale, my cell now turned and gone with a splash and a dive; I know myself, but not what to do or how to tread, nor even yet how to breathe this fresh air, free from the smell of stale shrimp.

And the grin that breaks forth, as I have, when I see your face, your smile, and how you throw your head back joyously and reach out for my hands! And so I am pulled into the dance and the spinning, whirling colours are intoxicating, I cannot breathe for the air rushing into my resurrected lungs. So we turn, pirouetting, and we catch each other’s laughter, like a bouquet constantly thrown back and forth. And the waiting welcome committee in their terribly straight line, stand and fume, as we play and delight in this New Thing.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

 

NB Photo is a placeholder whilst my copyright free reference library seems to be down! Will amend asap.