18"x 24" mixed media on watercolor paper.
I read an article recently that talked about how blue as its own color was a relatively new concept. In ancient texts all across the world there was no specific word for blue; in fact blue is often described as another color, such as "the wine dark sea." The article said that in order for humans to recognize something, we need to give it a name.
It got me thinking about how we carry past wounds and experiences with us throughout our lives, without recognizing or acknowledging these things for what they are despite they way that they shape us and how we interact with the world. How we have trauma, joy, and sorrow coursing through us and acting as a lens without us realizing it. How blood is blue until it is exposed to the oxygen of the outside world.
Sometimes I think that our experiences are like invisible tattoos intricately curving up our body. Unseen armor, stories, and vulnerabilities that we don't acknowledge but are there all the same.
