
"I squeeze the tubes of oil paint on to the palette, one by one.
I love the colours and their secret singing.
Aureolin, a gentle golden yellow that is soft and hums, and high-pitched lemon yellow, sharp and startling, then the low velvet tone of alizarin crimson, and the seductive cobalt blue. It fills me with longing, if cobalt blue was a man I'd run away with him. He calls with a longing to far away. Blue is a calling-away colour and its sound is a sound so beautiful it makes you want to leave the earth. Not red though, red pipes up, especially cadmium scarlet. 'Do-do-doooo', it says like a trumpet, it runs in your blood the same sound, 'yes, this is life!' It gets hot and passionate. If you put it in a painting it jumps forward, 'I am here!' it says, 'right here, ME!' and I love red for that. Then the beautiful violets, half red, half blue. Cobalt violet, singing in the range next to pink, but with more majesty, more mystery, and ultramarine violet, gentle, tender, like the shadows in the twilight, but deep, with dignity and a hidden depth, like someone who walks among people but knows they are really a seraph.
Then translucent golden green that is like the sun shining through the leaves, cinnabar green, spring leaves unfurling in the new light, chrome green, heavy like a green stone washed by the waves...
The rose doré ground is ready. Orange pink. It is a small canvas, a foot square, but big enough for a world. I put some cinnabar green, some rose pink mixed with white, some royal blue. The colours sing together on the surface and already there is a space and a distance, a place for something to arrive."
From Invisible River
by Helena McEewen.