I was sitting by the window of our living room this afternoon enjoying an afternoon cup of tea. The sun was beginning to set and there was a warm light over everything. Right outside the window stands a large Japanese maple, which at this time of the year is showing to the maximum its autumn colours. As the leaves are dropping at the moment the ground was covered with a layer of the most brilliant amber, matching the canopy of leaves which have still not fallen. I think that it must have been a consequence of the slightly misty atmosphere, but it seemed to me that it was not question of naming the colour of particular objects. The entire world was suffused with the same rich amber, which appeared to emanate from within objects rather than to colour them from without. At that moment I felt sure that things in the world do not “have” colour. They are colour. How ever might it be possible to communicate that sensation in paint?
I have to admit that in the past I have always thought of myself of having a relatively weak appreciation of colour. Perhaps now I will find myself attending to this aspect of our world much more carefully.