by Carl Moore
AS A WOULD-BE ARTIST (my brother Roger succeeded), colour has always fascinated me. I remember one evening in 1979 when a spectacular sunset appeared south and west of Barbados. I had never seen anything like it before, or since. The colours were blood and charcoal. I rushed home for my camera, but got there a little too late.
Anglican Dean Emeritus Harold Crichlow, in his thoughtful radio series of many years ago, For Love Of Country, sharpened my interest in colour when, as a keen photographer, he observed that one of our many blessings was the sheer brilliance and brightness of our sunlight.
We take these things for granted. I did too, until I spent a week in Norway, Sweden and Denmark in 1969, without once seeing the sun. As the Scandinavian Airlines DC-8-62 jet climbed and climbed, penetrating that dense canopy of cloud that sat over Europe, the sensation was orgasmic when, suddenly, at 20,000 feet, there was the sun awaiting us, as we headed back to Barbados.
Some 35 years ago, in an article titled The colour currency of Nature, Nicholas Humphrey observed: “Before life evolved, the drab landscape of the earth may have been relieved occasionally by, say, a volcanic fire, a rainbow, a sunset, perhaps some tinted crystals on the ground. And before colour vision evolved, some living tissues were already fortuitously coloured: blood was red and foliage green.
But the most striking colours of nature, those of flowers and fruits, the plumage of birds, the fishes of a coral reef, are all deliberate evolutionary creations which have been selected to act as visual signals carrying messages to those who have the eyes to see them. The pigments which impart visible colour to the petals of a dandelion or a robin’s breast are there for no other purpose.”
Yet, in our daily occupation of this planet, not many notice these things. We seem to leave such trifles up to the artists to enjoy and interpret for themselves.
Mr. Humphrey made another telling point: “Mankind as a species has little reason to boast about his sensory capacities. A dog’s sense of smell, a bat’s hearing, a hawk’s visual acuity are all superior to our own. But in one respect we may justifiably be vain: our ability to see colours is a match for any other animal. In this respect we have in fact surprisingly few rivals. Among mammals only our nearest relatives, the monkeys and apes, share our ability. All others are nearly or completely colour-blind.”
Recently in Barbados, there has been a sudden explosion of colour in architecture. Some of the gaudiest arsenic greens and curry yellows assail the eye. We are not content with the enchanting flamboyants in June: admire the red and yellow on the premises of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital.
Harry Husbands, in one of his last newspaper articles before moving on to higher senatorial calling, painted a picture of the bougainvillea from Sandy Lane, up past Molineux and on to the Ronald Mapp Highway.
Frangipani, ginger lily, hibiscus, croton, orchid, heliconia and ixora all enrich the delicious buffet of colour around us. Last month – for the umpteenth time – Barbados won gold at Chelsea in England, as we exhibited our natural colours to the world.
Yet, with all that, we still adorn so many homes and commercial buildings in those loud and ghastly colours – like the soon-to-be-opened Country Park Towers – all four storeys. They’re not going to need any Christmas trees at that address! By contrast, the Errol Barrow Centre employs more Creative Imagination.
I won’t suggest Town and Country Planning regulation; aesthetics cannot be legislated. I doubt if any artists are involved in this confused quarrel of colour across our visual landscape. If we defer to them we might learn a thing or two.
Have no fear, that same bright sunlight will eventually tone things down.
* Carl Moore was the first Editor of THE NATION and is a social commentator.
