Blue!

The color blue has always held a strange power over me. It’s not just a color—it’s an experience, a feeling, a presence that stretches across time and space, deeply embedded in the human psyche. I’ve come to realize that blue isn’t merely about the visual—it’s about what it represents, how it speaks to us. From books to paintings, blue is omnipresent, a thread that intertwines stories and images, ideas and emotions, through the centuries. Let me take you on its journey, as I have experienced it, learned it, and heard it speaking to me in art.

I remember the first time blue left me without words—it was standing before a painting in a museum, Yves Klein's International Klein Blue. The intensity of that ultramarine seemed to emanate from the surface, enveloping my senses. It was boundless, endless, as if staring into the abyss and the skies simultaneously. Blue was used by Klein to convey the immaterial, the sublime, and he succeeded in creating what he termed "zones of immaterial pictorial sensibility." I felt small, insignificant, a tiny speck in the grand scheme of the universe when I gazed upon it. Blue, I learned, was not just a hue—it was an invitation to gaze within and ponder our place in the universe.

In literature, blue is also commonly used as a symbol of longing, loss, and reflection. I can't help but think about F. Scott Fitzgerald's *The Great Gatsby* when I think of blue. The blue infiltrates, from the blue lawn of Gatsby's home to Dr. T. J. Eckleburg's eyes in the billboard advertisement—a ghost hovering above the desert of ashes. Blue for Gatsby equaled the desire for something unreachable, the disappointment at chasing after aspirations that dry as soon as they are planted. When I initially read the book, I had underlined all instances of blue, feeling the desperation of its sadness with Gatsby's fated dream.

Blue is more than a hue of sadness, though. Blue expresses calmness and a tranquil-strength. I've been impressed by the use of blue in Japanese artwork several times, particularly with *ukiyo-e* woodblock prints like Katsushika Hokusai's *The Great Wave off Kanagawa*. The blues of the ocean waves are mesmerizing, both catching the raw power of nature and its serene loveliness. I remember being struck by a reproduction of it in a small shop and remaining there immobile. That blue became a meditation, a reminder of the contrasts of life—the calm and the storm, the transitory and the eternal.

Blue's ability to be versatile in art does not stop with traditional art. Among my own highlights was strolling through an immersive light installation by James Turrell. The room was filled with pale blue, and the air itself felt like it had a texture. My mind wandered as I stood there, surrounded by that calming color. It caused me to reflect upon how blue in contemporary art is wont to stand for a focus on the intangible—light, space, and the emotions they evoke. Blue in Turrell's art was not simply color but medium, lens through which I could encounter my own sense of presence and self.

Blue is also, in fiction, a sign for mystery and the unknown, traditionally entwined in the depths of water or the vault of sky. I think of Toni Morrison's *The Bluest Eye*, that haunted novel on race, beauty, desire. The title itself is a statement—blue used to symbolize unreachable ideals, the demands of society that consume Pecola's life. When I read it, I was reminded of the way in which blue, that most traditionally associated color with peace, was turned into an instrument of unreachable expectations and painful self-consciousness. It showed me the richness of meaning in this color, how context might shift its meaning.

I've found blue in areas I would never have dreamed of in my own art. I was once painting and, in a mishap, dropped cobalt blue on the canvas. Instead of destroying it, I worked with it, letting the color lead the way with the piece. From it, I created a whirling, dreamlike landscape that was otherworldly. It was an experience that taught me that blue is a color with a personality of its own—it leads, it inspires, it reveals. It's little wonder that artists and writers of every stripe are drawn to it. Blue is both anchor and compass, grounding us even as it beckons us on to new horizons.

Ultimately, blue is more than just a color—it's a metaphor for human emotion and existence. It represents depth, contemplation, and infinity but can also instill coldness, sadness, or a sense of remoteness. From the novels of Klein, Fitzgerald, and Morrison to the tranquility of Hokusai and the enveloping artworks of Turrell, blue has proved to be an icon of all things deep and ineffable. To me, blue will always be a source of marvel—a reflection of the soul's desire and a witness to the beauty of both what we know and what we can never fully know.