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  • Writer's pictureBrian Martin


May 28, 2020:

Do you know the colour of your front door? Without looking? Is it a colour that you chose, or even one that you wanted? Suppose it’s not your home. Say instead, it’s the entrance to heaven. You suddenly find yourself standing in front of those impressive ornamental iron gates (I’m guessing that’s what they're made of, I mean seriously, who the hell knows).

What colour would you expect them to be? Pearly white is the common fable. Afterall, it is a very hospitable tone, the kind of welcoming colour you might expect in a place where you think you belong. You promenade through the entry looking forward to meeting the supreme divinity.

But what if the gates are black instead? The exact opposite of white. Does it follow suit then that you may be standing in front of the entrance to hell. Black does, in some cases, symbolize a world of order and control, and yet also elegance and mystery. Perhaps, you don’t belong here, but maybe you’d like to know what’s inside anyway, so you’ll proceed cautiously.

The front door of my house is a charcoal grey. The kind of colour (according to the people that apparently know about such matters), that is indecisive. When I think about it, it makes perfect sense. A hue between black and white, a compromise that gives equal weight to both sides of the equation. The middle ground. A safe place to be, right? The problem, well…for me anyways, is that it’s not very definitive. It's just an easy space for one to get lost in.

But what if there was a fourth option. One where the gates to the celestial Xanadu represented instead the colour of who you predominately were, throughout your life. Sure, you may show up to the entry and think, “This is not my colour. I must be in the wrong place”. Then again you may be pleasantly surprised, “You know, I always knew I was that colour, but I never really got a chance to bring it out”. Probably from living in the grey zone of safety.

For me though, I’d most likely be the kind of colour that would have to talk its way in past the iron rods because the proprietor’s not so sure that I’m a proper fit for this most exclusive club.

Like the colour Purple (not the movie) for example, a tone that declares an affection for risk and an aversion to the limitation's others might try and set. Also, a favorite colour amongst most women. Maybe, that’s why they prefer daring men. (Don’t they?)

Or how about Yellow. No, not yellow like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz, but more like a yellow with curb appeal that screams “Hey, I’ve had five cups of strong coffee, let me light up your life!” Bright and cheery, just what you want first thing in the morning, right? Or maybe not.

Then there’s Orange? It has the optimism of yellow, but don't overlook the fact that it was the predominant colour of the seventies. Yikes! Okay, some of you may not have been around back then, but if you were you most likely weren’t cognizant anyway (#Studio54 anyone). Besides, orange is hard to get along with as it doesn't rhyme with anything.

Then, of course, there’s Red. Oooh…bold and dangerous! A bloody colour that symbolizes sexuality, confidence and the inherent need for attention (don't all actors need attention). It is also an energizing colour. This might explain my appetite for invigoration.

Brown? Hmmm…organic in nature, wholesome and grounded. Maybe a bit too down to earth for me though. It probably doesn’t help much either that my wife compares the colour of my brown eyes to that of patties in a cow pasture. She doesn’t mean it though. Does she?

I almost forgot. What about Pink? I am a hopeless romantic after all. It’s light and calming in nature. Could this be the one for me? From what I'm gathering it’s also a symbol of immaturity and silliness (oh yeah, that’s definitely me).

The colour palette has a long list of possibilities, but I’m betting most people don’t want to stand out as being too bold or too bright. How about it? That’s probably why most of us stay hidden in plain sight, remaining as grey as we can. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’d like to think that when I happen upon those hypothetical ornate iron gates, I’m greeted by a kaleidoscope of colours that symbolizes, my attempt anyway, to break free from the grey zone of safety and colour my world. I could be here a while.

Until next time.

P.S. Thanks for reading.

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