But don't take my word for it. Color, demystified

Hello.

My name is Sharon. Some people call me Yarnista.

Either is fine, but you should never call me late to dinner. I get cranky when I don't eat on schedule.

Today, I would like to talk to you about colors.

Colors are good. Colors add beauty to the world. They make our lives more enjoyable.

Some people are scared of colors. They think certain colors will make them look like they belong on the cast of Jersey Shore or Masterpiece Theater. (Or Masterpiece Theatre. The characters are equally pasty.)

I get many emails every day about colors. Which are a match made in heaven? Which are emissaries of the devil?

This leads me to believe that you may have questions about colors.

I am here to help.

Me, Sharon.

I am on the left.

That's pretty much what my hair looked like today. I tweeted about it, in fact.

So, color is too broad a topic to cover in one eensy blog post. Today, we'll talk about two things.

The first is that colors do not need to match.

Let me repeat that. Colors that look good together do not have to match.

As Stacy and Clinton would say, outfits don't need to match, they need to go.

There is a difference.

Let's get over the idea that we need to find yarn colors that match each other for our projects. Instead, let's think about how using a different color, a color that enhances has a much greater visual impact than something that matches.

I teach a workshop on the Psychology of Color. Some of you may have taken it at Sock Summit. I'm teaching it again in October at Amazing Threads in the Twin Cities of Minnesota.

One of the first things we talk about is using complementary colors -- colors that are opposite each other on the color wheel.  Red and green. Blue and orange. Purple and yellow. Complementary color pairings are bold and dynamic. The colors bring out the best in each other. Opposites attract and all that.

These pictures that I'm showing you -- all badly photographed by yours truly at the Chicago Institute of Art -- all use complementary colors.

In fact, they all use the same combination of complementary colors: blue and orange. (Keep in mind that in color theory, brown is actually dark orange.)

And to great effect. All of these paintings, except maybe for the one of me above, use a rich blue with green undertones (I might describe it as a spruce color. But I'm from American Siberia, where we have a lot of spruce trees. Someday I will develop a class on the geography of color.)

(Someday, I might develop classes on all seven social sciences and their relationship to color.

Imagine opening your next Stitches booklet to the following listings:

Anthropology and Awesome Color 4U!

Coloronomics: The Hidden Side of Everything

More than Maps: The Geography of Rainbows

History's Color Mysteries

The Dude in the Red Tie Wins: Color in Politics

Knit Happy: The Psychology of Color in Knitting. [Wait, I've already done this...]

Sociologically Speaking: Pantone's Plot to Get Everyone to Wear the Same Thing [it's working...])

The orange that's used in these works varies from chestnut brown to fire red. It doesn't match the blue-green.

Notice how the Madonna's robes don't match the swaddling cloth. (In fact, look at the clothes that Mary's cousin Elizabeth is wearing. Complementary purple and yellow.)

One color sets off the other. The bright orange makes the blue richer. The blue makes the orange seem more regal, less jolting.

They don't match. They go.

 These artists are some of the best the world has ever seen. Their work spans millennia. No one here is using matching blues or matching oranges. These artists didn't shy away from complementary colors because it might not match the interior decor of a benefactor or a pyramid.

Their use of color is what makes them the masters.

Are you feelin' what I'm sayin'?

Dynamic color choices separate the mediocre from the great. Why spend time knitting something mediocre if you don't have to? Why plan outfits -- or paintings, or anything, really -- that are just OK?

Forget "neutral" goes-with-everything beige. Beige is the antithesis of interesting. Stop knitting with beige. There's no reason for that.

"But I want a sweater that will match everything," you say.

And to that I reply, "Poppycock."

Poppycock because beige doesn't actually look good on anyone. Show me one skintone that is enhanced by beige.

Poppycock because the artists whose work hangs in world class museum collections were not painting subjects wearing beige clothing. (They might wear no clothing, but that's a different topic for a different day.)

Poppycock because if you knit one sweater that goes with everything, then you never need to knit another sweater. And what are you going to do with your time then? Read blogs?

Try the color combination of deep blue/green with orange, brown, or red.

But don't take my word for it. I am but a lowly Yarnista. If you won't listen to me, perhaps Renoir can be more persuasive.

Here are some yarn ideas to think about:

Ian:

Eavan + Flannery

Eavan + Brannagh

Rhys + Chocolate Cherry

  

Bayside + Cameron

  

Carson + Kieran

   

And you could come up with many more possibilities.

Stop thinking about matching, and start thinking about what enhances each color you're working with. Very often, it's something on a different part of the color wheel.

P.S. This is part one of a new ongoing series about color. Leave your questions for me in the comments, and I'll give you my $.02.

I'm a wild and crazy gal

Clue #1: I used the word "gal." The fact that I used that word means that I am becoming, incrementally, more like my mother, who uses the word all the time.

Which is not a bad thing, not at all. My mother is a wonderful person.

But y'all, she goes to bed at 6:30 pm. SIX THREE ZERO. It's just a matter of time before I'm eating dinner at 4:45 and in my nightgown by 6:15.

What am I going to do with an extra five hours of sleep? I think I might feel too rested. Is there such a thing? Mom, what bad things will happen if I suddenly start getting too much shut eye?

Clue #2: When I travel, I love to sit alone in my hotel room with a chocolate delicacy of some sort, noshing, knitting, and watching Netflix.

Even when I'm visiting a big city with a plethora of entertainment options, this is always what I pick to do.

And that is because I am a very wild and crazy gal. Almost Katy Perry-esque. Nearly Lady Gaga in my wildness and my craziness.

Clue #3: I'm doing a trunk show in my hometown of Duluth, MN this Saturday. When I'm done, I fully intend to get into some yoga pants, plant my behind on the sofa, finish season one of Mad Men (OK, so I'm behind the times), and eat a pint of Haagen Dazs.

While not knitting.

I just heard the collective gasp of the interwebs.

Watch TV and NOT simultaneously knit?

What will happen, interwebs?

Will the knitting police arrest Yarnista?

Will a meteor destroy the earth?

I honestly don't know, but I intend to find out.

See? Always pushing the envelope, I am. One of these days I'm going to show up at an event in a dress made entirely of... yarn.

What other wild and crazy mischief can I get myself into? I'm open to suggestions!

my kind of town, Chicago is

Look! Here I am, with my hair all whackadoo and my makeup askew!

How is this different than any other day, you ask?

It's not, except for the fact that I was wearing heels and a dress. And I was near a different Great Lake.

I visited Windy Knitty recently, and was really impressed with the airy space, the yarn selection, and the friendly people. (And check out the custom cabinetry throughout the store. It's gorgeous.)

Let me start out with the answers to some very pertinent questions.

Q: Does Windy Knitty have any yarn?

A:

Hm. Tough to say. I'll have to study the pictures more closely.

Q: Does Windy Knitty have any good yarn?

A: It's ALL good. There is no crap yarn here. In fact, there's a large selection of really really awesome yarn. Several lines of indie dyers (ahem). Harder to find European brands. Noro. And it's plentiful.

The store is in the Andersonville neighborhood of Chicago, which is adorable, walkable, and worth a drive to see. Tree-lined streets, cafes, boutiques. Parking is easy and affordable compared to other parts of the city.

I brought a moderately ridiculous amount of yarn with me, which will be there through Sunday the 25th. (Yes, there is a ton of good stuff left, including our new cotton yarns and Windy Knitty's exclusive colorway.)

What a fun group to teach, too -- I enjoyed every second of the class, and hope I get to meet you all again.

Thanks for being a cool city, Chicago. Thanks for being nifty people, Illinoisans (and Wisconsinites, and Indianans). Thanks for having me, WK! I would love to come back someday!

dioramas.

I love them.

Love them a lot.

Love them enough to get up really early in the morning, fly to Chicago on an airplane, brave Chicago traffic to drive to a museum, pay $45 to park and gain admission at said museum, haul a heavy camera around to take pictures of the dioramas, upload them, edit them, and post them here.

I understand that this will not likely garner me an early admission invitation to the Girls Who Are Popular and Not Weird Club.

And that is OK. Those girls will probably work for me someday.

Yes, I said it.

The nerds rule the world in the end, haven't you heard?

I just returned from a lovely trip to the fair city of Chicago, where the weather was cool, Lake Michigan minty green, the students fun, and the yarn plentiful. (Thank you, Windy Knitty, for inviting me.)

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to visit The Field Museum of Natural History, and the Art Institute of Chicago.

I do like me a good museum. Probably because they have dioramas.

Of buffalo.

And mummies.

Oh, look. Someone's entrails are being removed so their body can be preserved forever!

Sign me up.

The dioramas at The Field Museum are some of the best miniatures I've seen. (Some of the best life-sized dioramas are at the Royal British Columbia Museum, if you're a nerd like me.)

Why do these give me such a thrill?

Hard to say. It probably has something to do with my eye for detail and my childhood aspiration -- heck, my adult aspiration -- to be a museum curator. Who gets to create these? Who? I've never met a diorama maker. Are you out there?

I even like the life sized dioramas. Although this really could have been taken in any one of 60 places in my hometown. (Are deer that rare in Chicago? They need to be preserved in a museum?)

Heck, I've seen about ten of these in my very own yard.

Oh, hello. Yes, go ahead and sleep in my yard again. Don't let the dog bother you. She only comes up to your shoulder and has sharp incisors.

Oh, you won't? Well, that's a huge relief. I was just thinking that what my life is suffering from is a dearth of deer.

Especially of the largest deer that ever lived.  I'm really quite surprised there's not a herd of them living behind the garage.

Do you know what the largest deer that ever walked the earth are called?

Irish.

I can't make these things up. Of course the largest deer that ever lived are called Irish deer. Of course.

Who gets to name these things? Who? I've never met a deer namer. Are you out there?

I think I need to just get on the ball and become a diorama maker/deer namer.

Sitting around waiting for these opportunities to come to me is not very efficient. I've found that things actually happen when you make them happen. Much like the yarn actually looks much prettier if I dye it rather than sitting around wondering why the yarn is not pretty.

(I have found the cure for inertia! Do something! Do anything! Even if it's the wrong thing. Even if you don't have every square centimeter of a plan mapped out. The way to get unstuck is to move in any direction at all. The worst that can happen is that you realize your mistake and move in a different direction.)

So, diorama. Done.

And the deer is named...

Bob.

And that, my fellow Office fans, is what they call, Boom. Roasted.

au revoir!

Hasta Luego, new baby colorway.

See you again on Saturday, when I get to visit you in your new home, in a different city by a different big lake.

Auf Wiedersehen. Adios.

Be a good new colorway.

Say hello to everyone at Windy Knitty in Chicago for me.

Mind your manners.

Enunciate.

Say, "Hello, my name is City by the Lake."

Wash your hands.

Sneeze into your elbow.

Comb your hair.

Say the magic word.

Make mama proud. I'll be there soon.