Colour, Found & Felt

Colour is everywhere, yet it often slips past unnoticed—a quiet backdrop to our lives, unexamined and underestimated. But when handled with care, colour can shift our mood, alter the atmosphere of a space, and speak volumes about who we are and what we value. It can whisper or shout, soothe or provoke, and its nuances carry meaning far beyond the surface.

For me, colour is a constant preoccupation. I collect it like others might gather objects, beginning with a combination I’ve seen in the world around me—a fleeting arrangement of tones that lingers in the mind. These chance encounters become the seed for my palettes, grounding them in something real, something felt.

Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to fly curtains, those humble strips of colour you’d once seen hanging in the doorways of old butchers, newsagents, and betting shops. There’s something wonderfully utilitarian about them—unpretentious and honest, yet unexpectedly beautiful in their simplicity. I couldn’t resist bringing that charm closer to home, fixing one to the shed. It keeps flies at bay, but it’s also become an impromptu backdrop for some of my work—a small triumph of function and beauty.

In this journal series, I’ll share these colour finds—moments plucked from the every day that quietly shape how I see and create. Colour, after all, is never just about what meets the eye. It’s about what lingers beneath it.