Writer’s block don’t tend to affect me much since I write in a bizarre way even when I try to write in a bizarre way. But I do suffer from colour block from time to time, i.e. the inability to not turn everything into a monochrome picture. The most ridiculous manifestation of this syndrome came recently when none of the pictures I took at the Golden Gate bridge turned out red… it’s a sign.
To cure this worryingly all-consuming monochromaticism, I took an entire fortnight’s worth of photos sans colour, a palate cleanse (or exorcism) if you will. It was certainly an interesting experience, for there’s nothing like having to visualise the world without colour in order to see much more clearly and there is nothing like having to compose a photograph when one cannot hide behind a convenient facade of colours. It’s almost as if its absence removes a veil shrouding one’s consciousness and allows a direct peak into their thought process. One can conclude that if a colour picture is merely a thought translated into appreciation, catalogue, likes, or even a modicum of expression, then a monochrome picture is most indubitably the food for thought.
I then woke up without a start but definitely an end, and it was all a saturated pigment of the imagination.. imagine that.
Here is a selection of recent colour selections, not much to say really. (“I see hat people” is a fav.)