Mood dictates color preference. Such an obvious thing, so easily forgotten. In Mexico, aqua blues last week were a delight. Then, when we went inland, I could not get enough of crimson. A commenter noted after one Valladolid post that all my photos that day were yellow-themed. I never noticed! I was ablaze!
There are times and places where black and white feel poignant and just right. Sharp with contrast or muted in dreamy tones of gray. You can pick up the sultry romance of it -- the Parisian insinuations, the scorched Badlands of South Dakota...
But I have to say this: I have not seen any color since I stepped off the plane from Atlanta on Wednesday; my overall appreciation for black & white is waning.
It has to do with the mindset, of course.I get up at 5, hit the books and pause only to go with Ed to Woodman’s (Woodman’s!). I noticed that some of the trees have a delicate white coating of frozen mist. At another time I might regard that as actually quite pretty. Today, I see it for what it is: bare branches, failing to hide the strip mall (and another) behind.
Finally, around the bend, I see something worth pausing for: a tree, two trees actually, coated in white delicateness, with nothing but sky behind.
You’d think I’d find it just too perfect. Hell no! I think instead -- how dreary. Not a spot of color. Almost like Warsaw in December.
In that kind of a mood, you may as well retreat inside and resume working. Which I did.