Readymag Design Almanac: Color

Throughout the years, my relationship with photography has developed and matured. My relationship with the world has changed as I have learned to see, to notice. A photographer continues to photograph, even without a camera in hand. I see every day as a countless series of photographs. Color is a component of these photographs, and I act as colorist.

My relationships with color developed gradually. At first, I mimicked other creators. I love how photographers Harry Gruyaert, Esther Teichmann, Saul Leiter, Sarah Moon, Pieter Hugo and Araki Nobuyoshi work with color. Sergio Larrain, Anders Petersen and Irving Penn are very strong in black and white. Then I finally found my own photographic style, and I have stayed with it. I process all my images by combining Photoshop and Lightroom from Adobe, more or less always going through the same manipulations in the attempt to recover the sensation felt when taking the photograph.

My photographic work is less intellectual than sensitive. I like chiaroscuro. I love green forests, and I usually process my pictures by adding a yellow cast.

Julien Coquentin

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Julien Coquentin is a self-taught photographer who lives in France and Canada. He began a career in photography at the age of 34 and juggles it with a second job as a night nurse. Julien’s first photographic series, Early Sunday Morning, was devoted to the streets of Montreal and was posted on his blog. Julien’s photographs are a kind of personal diary — the main themes are childhood memories, moments of city life and reflections on the interaction of nature and urbanization.

When I work on a project, the color decision usually comes to me at an intuitive level quite early. For example, if I’m doing a customer’s project, the color decision takes shape when — or even before — we exchange references and moodboards.

I could say that each large work I undertake sums up a specific period in my life. It has distinct boundaries or at least a distinct inception. It is a kind of movie that incorporates everything that I see, hear, smell, think, all my life circumstances, including my interaction with the materials provided, the client, the references, the cultural context, etc. It’s a synesthetic experience: I perceive color as a felt characteristic of all this — along with the smells, speech, everything else. Thus color is essentially part of the overall spirit of the project.

My choice of colors is rarely made cerebrally. That happens only if the client has his own specific color preferences.

Sometimes it’s important to me that the color hex code should resemble a beautiful word, one that doesn’t contain letters and numbers I don’t like. I don’t like number 2, number 5, and letter b, yet I love number 1, number 7, letter c and letter e. Thus I’m likely to replace #15b2a6 with #17c0a7.

I long believed that a beautiful color or color combination has the nature of what Immanuel Kant called Allgemeines Wohlgefallen (something generally accepted). I believed that the beauty of color was inherent and that the ability to sense it was inborn, akin to an ear for music. I believed that people’s tastes in colors were alike.

And then I suddenly realized that people who seem to be sane in all other ways had absolutely wild and crazy tastes in colors. For example, I sincerely hate brilliant blue that has become so popular in recent years, all of its shades, from International Klein Blue to #0000ff.

I don’t understand how people love it and use it, even how anyone can touch it without nausea and pain. Blue blood oozing from eyes! Blue is bad (in Russian, the word ‘blue’ also suggests alcohol and alcohol abuse)! But adult, reasonable and sane people declare this as their favorite color and use it a lot in their work — and other people look at these blue pictures with unguarded eyes and praise them. How can this be? What’s wrong with me?

So I stopped relying on my personal color perceptions and started relying more on the socially acceptable. Take most popular color sets, from the Adobe Color site, for one.

There’s nothing special about them, but they are OK. You can adjust each set of colors to your wishes, but even that’s not necessary.

To help my students better understand color, I sometimes ask them to write an essay on why they love a certain color or color combination. I believe the ability to express aesthetic impressions in words is very important; doing so, you come to articulate the cultural and semantic echoes you find in an artist’s work and become conscious of your synesthetic experience. Or I send my students on a walk with certain specific tasks: for example, they have to look for a specific color and follow its path in such a way that every step of its path comes to constitute a coherent story.

The Art of Caring for the Dead (2009) is a joint project with my wife, the poet Yanina Vishnevskaya. The texts are mine, the black and white photos are by my wife and the whole book uses a single color. Russian political activist Misha Verbitsky wrote in 2002: “The laws of the physical world dwindle and give way as the human civilization of the time wanes. People of the Tradition had only three colors: white, black and red, and they used the same word for them all. Apparently, the breakdown of the visible spectrum of light into distinct colors was an occurrence of a subsequent epoch. The same goes for all other physical laws — all are false insofar as our world is untrue.” My book is concerned with the border between black and white and white and black; thus, it had to be achromatic. But I also wanted it to burn and Mercury to run through it. So I introduced red. But not a blatant red. I felt the red had to be unsaturated, and I was also inclined toward an orange or scarlet. For me, however orange-red was too explicit and tautological: the book talks about fire, and presenting words about fire in the color of fire would have been too much. I wanted to achieve something dispassionate: cold fire, cool red quicksilver. I found my calm in #e71937.

My favorite movie is Metropolis by Fritz Lang. OK, that’s a joke; let it be Sin City. The reason for this can be found in the quotation from Misha Verbitsky that I cited earlier. I love when the weapon of color is used only under great duress, when life itself is at stake, or to deliver the final coup de grâce on the viewer. Or when color is a poignant sauce, not the main dish or garnish. (and any of several other synesthetic metaphors.)

Truth be told, I had my most vivid color experiences in real life, not in a cinema or in a museum. These experiences were inextricably bound to their life contexts so it’s quite pointless to talk about them.

The cover of the second issue of Flat File features my beloved, rather chilly, “not exactly red.” This time it is #c51b24. There is so much of the color here that it is deafening. This is something like a zombie apocalypse: all are dead but alive. This cold red is paired with black, of course, but true black is impossible here. That’s why the role is played by blue #090e22. To some extent, in this context the blue is even more black than the stupid #000000. This color combination is morbid, but it is counterintuitively precisely right.

Over the years the colors I use in my work got more intense and more varied. When I started out, my color palette was black and white and red. Then I added two other primary colors — yellow and blue, which come from the Dutch movement De Stijl.

But I wanted to explore color. So later I moved away from this pure primary-colors approach. I began taking my own decisions to introduce new colors — lilac, purple and many others.

My use of color is intuitive and very subjective. It comes from the subject matter, like trees, color of houses, everything around me. My color comes from printed ink, which I mix with other special colors and a thinning medium. The colors are sometime mixed on the printing blocks directly with rollers and sometimes a palette knife. The inks are applied with careful rolling to again mix the colors on the printing blocks.

I was brought up with Josef Albers’ Homage to the Square. He did lots of color studies himself, and he’s really worth studying. I think looking at paintings and prints is very beneficial for a young designer. So my advice is to study the colors in the works of your favorite painters and think why is it like this, explore how the color is used and try to draw inspiration from it.

One of my favorite artists — Claude Monet — is a renowned colorist. The colors Monet used are very light and delicate. They are not dense. I love his paintings of gardens and particularly I love the purplish-lilac in his waterlily paintings. My personal favorite color is lilac, sort of a pale indigo.

Another painter whose works I admire is David Hockney: he also was a very strong colorist. He’s very different from Monet. Hockney’s colors are very vibrant and dense.

Today we see too much color on the screen, so at some point of time you get used to it. The movies I prefer are black and white — to me they look much more impressive, interesting and dramatic. That sets your own imagination to work. The films I have in mind are The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, directed by Robert Wiene, and The Third Man, directed by Carol Reed. I mention these two films because of the tension created by black and white with all shades between, to highlight the dramatic effect it brings to the visual power of the story on the screen.

I try to make the colors I use in my works speak for themselves and add to the meaning of the graphics. This work has many reasons for the colors being what they are. Hampstead Village is an area in London where very many painters, writers and musicians have lived. The streets here are very colorful and pretty, with houses colored in blue and pink and yellow. I took inspiration from the place itself — the colors for the letters were chosen based upon the colors of the houses in the streets. The circles in this poster refer to prominent people who lived in the area; each is color-coded to accord with the person it’s dedicated to. Adjacent to Hampstead is Hampstead Heath — a very popular park with lots of big, ancient trees. When I was in Hampstead doing research on the area, I walked through this park and saw how the sun was lighting up the trunks of the trees, making them sort of glow. The lit area was bright yellow, while the back was intensely green. I also used this combination in my work.

This is a quotation from Winston Churchill, a phrase he said when he became prime minister of Great Britain in 1940. It’s on a black paper. I’m trying to express what he said in color: blood — red, toil, tears, and sweat, all these different substances.

I did some illustrations for greeting postage stamps — one says, “Want to Say Thank You,” and the other says, “Best Wishes.” The “Want to Say Thank You” is basically red and yellow because these are very friendly colors. The “Best Wishes” card I colored blue, lilac and purple, so there was a kind of contrast. In October 2006 they were issued by the Royal Mail

Julien Coquentin

Oleg Paschenko