A whole town agreed on a colour. Nobody can tell you when.
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500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Colors of the World series · 3 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 011 of 100.
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Some decisions are made by no committee and kept by everybody. The kitchen your grandmother painted yellow because her mother had kept it yellow. The village church repainted the same chalky blue every twenty years and nobody can remember signing off on it. The neighbourhood door colour that started by accident on one house and is now on every door up the road. Nobody chose, exactly. Nobody undoes it either.
In northern Morocco, a single town has been painting itself versions of the same blue for several generations. Down at street level, the blue is on the steps, on the walls, on the door frames, on the stone troughs holding red flowers and rosemary. A green-painted cart leans against a wall. The shade above the door is cooler than the shade across the street. The blue does most of the work.
Goes well with In Arabian Nights by Tahir Shah, Hideous Kinky by Esther Freud, or any book read on a stranger's doorstep while you wait for somewhere to open.
Some places choose colour the way other places choose silence. A wall is blue because somebody, generations ago, decided blue was the right answer and nobody has been able to argue since. A field is purple because of a plant. The sea is turquoise because of light passing through three metres of water and stopping on white sand. You arrive, you take off your sunglasses, and the world is louder.
