It's May, and it's still dumping in Crested Butte. We're talking puking snow. My arms are tired from shoveling, and my legs are burnt from backcountry snowboarding-- skinning up a mountain on my splitboard, and so, I am happy. And my dog is even happier-- rolling in snow like a polar bear. I guess that means my activities for the rest of the day include drinking coffee and finishing that canvas I had relegated to the corner of the studio for most of the winter! Ah, mountain living. Gotta love it.
as far as thinking spots go, this is a pretty good one.
It might sound kind of bizarre, but I am obsessed with colors. I see everything in colors. I think in colors, and a colored lens filters each memory between my ears. For instance, goodbye memories are typically coated in smokey gray and childhood memories of riding a bike are streaked with purple, yellow, and neon orange. In my mind, everyone I meet becomes associated with a certain color. My sister is yellow. My best friend is burnt orange. I feel in colors– feeling blue is not a hollow expression. And happiness feels undoubtedly golden. Hues and tones are simply an inherent part of my life.
Sometimes finding inspiration can be difficult in a creative industry. Sometimes it seems as if it’s possible to run out of colors for every project. But it’s not. The best proof of an endless color pallet is this beautiful planet we inhabit. I started thinking about the notion of color and looking through some photographs I took over the past year, only to discover that as far as colors go, Mother Nature has Crayola beat any day of the week.
Wheelie Deep Thoughts
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