One of the most awesome things about having a brother in art school is gaining insight on something I used to be blind to: color. All these years, I’ve been ignorant to what color is capable of in the things I craft.
Through many conversations with my Manong (big brother), I’ve come to realize that most of what I know about color relationships is based on memory: If I’ve seen a combination of colors used in a pleasing way, then I know those colors go together. Which is why, for many years, I knew pink and gray worked, but only because the curtains in my aunt’s office were a soft dove gray with a pink sash. My aunt was our guidance counselor in high school, and I would sit in her office to wait to walk home with her and my cousins, and stare at those curtains, loving the way they looked in the open window.
All I really knew were standard, utilitarian color combos. Like yellow and blue, because in grade school we wore navy blue culottes and schoolbus-yellow t-shirts in P.E. class, which I always thought looked kind of retro-athletic chic (except I was never athletic and always sat on the sidelines with the water jugs).
In the same token, if I’ve never seen a color combination in use before, it will never occur to me. A gifted eye, of course, will not just see color relationships, but will also understand them. How one hue makes the other either more stark or muted, how a palette’s visual weight lacks one color or two to make it truly appeal to the senses. My brother has this gift. I ask him his color opinions with almost every craft project I do. He’ll look at what I’m working with, do this squinty thing with his eyes, and tell me what he thinks. It’s never what I expect, and his suggestions always work.
I’m fascinated by the way Manong understands color, and after many questions about what works with what and arguments like my old dislike of the color purple (His words: “You should be color agnostic.”), I got this as a Christmas gift from him last year: a pocket color wheel.
He explained to me how it works, and I nodded along. I felt kind of silly about it at first, because the only time I ever studied a color wheel was in art class in grade school. So, honestly, that’s what I thought about this new toy—elementary. How could I need and use a thing I learned about in finger-painting class? In my arrogance, I didn’t use that thing for months.
But then one day a couple of weeks ago, I wanted to make some jewelry and was tired of all the usual things I put together. You know, like yellow and pink (from a copy of this Degas painting that hung—and is still there—in my bedroom when I was growing up)….
…red and black (from this snapshot in my head of Audrey Hepburn wearing a black dress and hat, holding a bunch of red balloons in the movie Funny Face)….
and green and pink (from some Amy Butler fabric I really liked).
I had suddenly run out of memories to get color ideas from. I needed inspiration, and I spied my color wheel tucked in between random stuff next to my sewing machine. I fished it out and decided I would see if the thing really worked. Manong had explained that the wheel can pick out triads of colors (among other combos) that worked pleasingly together. I decided to see if it would work on my gems.
The wheel said if I worked with purple, green and golden yellow that they would complement each other as they were split complimentary colors. Ew, I thought, that sounds wrong! Ignoring the haughty voice in my head, I scanned my gem trays, pulled together the three colors suggested by the color wheel and set to work.
After I tightened the last knot on the second piece and hung it with its pair, I was nothing short of amazed. Look how cute!
I mean, honestly, I would’ve NEVER used those colors together if not for the color wheel. Separately, they’re nothing to write home about, but together, they play off against each other and show each other up. They just WORK. I was floored. The color wheel does not lie!
Manong once told me that color is a language. And like any language, you have to learn enough words in to convey something understandable. The more you know about it, the better you’re able to express yourself with it. I know I don’t fully understand color, and I doubt I ever will to the level that he does, but now at least I’m curious and interested and excited about learning more. And I think for my brother, that’s all that really matters.
I sent him a picture of what I made and told him, “I wouldn’t have picked those three colors out! They don’t make sense!”
“What do you mean?” he said. “Violet and yellow and green? They make TOTAL sense.”
Right, Manong, and thank you. 
By the way, a pocket color wheel only costs $3 bucks. Worth its weight in gold (and red, and blue, and pink….) 
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This post isn’t just about encouraging you to be open to new things, or to try truly exploring color in your crafting pursuits. It’s also a tribute to my brother, to congratulate him for his biggest art installation yet. Last week six of his large-scale pieces went up in the lobby of the Theater Arts building of Santa Monica College. He didn’t get enough (or at all?) sleep to do this, and I hear his girlfriend Anajay was right there in the trenches with him, with input of varying degrees from my mother on the virtues of fusible interfacing. Congratulations, Manong. You are awesome. Commence world domination!
J. | 
11 10th, 2010| 
