David Murdock Column: On seeing colors for the first time
So, the other day, I was driving alongside the Coosa River over in Gadsden. At that section of road paralleling the boardwalk, I just happened to glance over at the water — it was fortuitous. The river is such a normal sight in my everyday life that I usually don’t really notice it, at least certain aspects of it. Sure, I’ll notice if the water is rough or something like that … but what drew my attention that day was the color of it.
The Coosa River is a typical Southern river — it’s muddy. Therefore, its color is usually brown. So much so that I clearly recall seeing “blue” water for the first time when I was a kid. I had sorta always wondered why bodies of water in artwork were always rendered in blue. Deep bodies of water were always brown, in my experience.
It’s not just me: “brown-water” used as an adjective means inland rivers with silt of some kind. On the other hand, “blue-water” is used for the open ocean. There are deep, clear bodies of water inland in Northeast Alabama named “Blue Hole Lake,” or something similar — including one nearby — but I’d never been to any of them before visiting the Gulf of Mexico.
Glancing over at the Coosa the other day, I was almost shocked to see that it was blue. Not just any blue, but a deep, dark shade of blue — one that I was sure that I’d seen before. Just not here. Not only that, but the deep blue of the river was highlighted in the usual brown. And, there was enough of a wind that it the waves were “white-capping,” as we used to call it. It was a striking color combination.
Had I the time, I would’ve stopped at the boardwalk and watched it a while. That day was tightly scheduled, however, so I had to go on. That shade of blue, though, I couldn’t get off my mind. There were two questions.
First, what is the word for that shade of blue?
Second, where had I seen it before?
When I got home that night, I searched the internet for “shades of blue.” That was a mistake — I spent quite a while looking through different blues, and I’m fairly certain Google thinks I’m repainting my house.
Long story short — and one that involves the help of a friend who is a visual artist — the closest descriptive terms to describe that blue are “cobalt blue” and “Prussian blue.” However, neither is quite right. So, as is usual in situation like this one, I made up a word and went on — forever and ever, that blue will be (for me, at least) … “Coosa blue.” The phrase even has some music to it.
But where had I seen “Coosa blue” before? Finally, it came to me, and I’m sorta embarrassed by it. Every day of my life, I glance at a print of the painting “Starry Night,” by Vincent Van Gogh. It’s on the wall of my bedroom. It’s one of the first things I see when I get up, and one of the last things I see when I go to sleep.
Honestly, I haven’t really looked at it in a long time — I mean, really looked at it. “Coosa blue” is the shade of blue Van Gogh used at the top of the painting, especially toward the left side. Before too long, I was reading articles about all the shades of blue Van Gogh used in this masterpiece — shades I’d never really noticed before. Finding a version of it on the internet that had enough resolution to zoom in and really see the shades, I was astounded by this painting … again.
That print has gone everywhere with me since I bought it back in my college days. It’s almost a cliché that all college students buy the same art prints for their dorm rooms, Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”being one of the most popular. That’s when the memories really started flooding.
Another art print that’s accompanied me almost everywhere I’ve gone since I bought it, for example, is by the Japanese artist Hokusai — “The Great Wave off Kanagawa.” The “great wave” of the title is “Coosa blue” … and it’s white-capping. I pass by that print every day, too. And Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist,” as well, another one that I pass by every day. That one is sometimes referred to as “The Blue Guitarist” because — y’all guessed it — it’s mostly in shades of blue.
Blues, blues, blues everywhere! “Coosa blue,” though, is gone. It lives now only in a memory.
Don’t even get me started about trying to find the exact shade of brown I saw on the Coosa River that afternoon — I’m simply going to say it is “Coosa brown” and let it go. That brown is everywhere, too, including in the foreground of “Starry Night.”
When I found time to stop and take a note that afternoon, I jotted that the blue and brown shades I’d seen were “vibrant,” “rich,” and “alive.” I’ll never be able to describe them adequately. It was as if I were seeing those colors for the first time in my life, even though I see them every day.
Sometimes, you just gotta see what you’re looking at.
David Murdock is an English instructor at Gadsden State Community College. He can be contacted at murdockcolumn@yahoo.com. The opinions expressed are his own.
This article originally appeared on The Gadsden Times: David Murdock looks at the colors of water
