There was a girl who insisted blue was “too cold” for art. She was a young elementary kiddo, and I wasn’t sure what in the world to do about someone who held so much disdain for a color, any color. Then one spring morning I showed her a bluebird perched outside the window. She stared for a long time, almost offended by its brilliance. I was worried about what she might be thinking, to be honest.
But she painted it anyway—her first blue subject. When she finished, she said, “Blue isn’t cold. It’s brave. I believed her. I hope she’s still creating blue.
6” x 8”. Oil on 100% cotton paper.
There was a girl who insisted blue was “too cold” for art. She was a young elementary kiddo, and I wasn’t sure what in the world to do about someone who held so much disdain for a color, any color. Then one spring morning I showed her a bluebird perched outside the window. She stared for a long time, almost offended by its brilliance. I was worried about what she might be thinking, to be honest.
But she painted it anyway—her first blue subject. When she finished, she said, “Blue isn’t cold. It’s brave. I believed her. I hope she’s still creating blue.
6” x 8”. Oil on 100% cotton paper.
