Roalle

Dullish, faintish, softish. The color might have fallen into either the green family or the blue family; however, I couldn't tell. All I saw was the pigment I dipped my industrial paint brush in.

The huge blank canvas was set out before me, like a blank page waiting to be written on. Roalle was the perfect color to use in the first strokes of a painting coming into being.

But what was roalle going to make? It had a green hue that sort of transitioned into a gray throughout, and the dullness of it might have been, at its most extreme, a little bit disturbing. How dull could a color be?

It made me think of rainy days in the spring of Portland and stained overalls. It made me think of old, peeled limes. It made me think of antique picture frames and ancient door handles in a mansion. It made me think of scratchy wool sweaters. It made me think of bitter chocolate and sweet almonds. Short haircuts and sea salt. Dark circles. Smudges of light eyeliner. Puffy clouds in a gray sky. Going to the beach during the winter.

I didn't even have to think. My brush started to swipe across the canvas, making its shapes along the edges and through to the middle where it swirled around and around, creating a floral sort of pattern but a random one.

And the result of what I created was a mixture of abtract shapes and the flowery designs of my paintbrush, all done with varying quantities of roalle paint.

And let me tell you, it was beautiful.