#ColourYourWords : BLUE: The subtle difference between Sky blue & Sea blue

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this Story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and unintentional.

“There is a difference between sky blue and sea blue” Clare exclaimed as soon as she set her eyes on the canvas that I was working on.

I had just removed the light cloth that I used to cover my canvas with when I am not working and was looking at it speculatively when she entered my flat and saw the painting that I had half-finished. She stood there looking at the painting for a long time, with a frown on her face and her small brown eyes becoming smaller due to concentration.

“It is just not right” she pronounced gravely, her face grime.

It was then that I registered that she had come into my room and I looked at her with undisguised scorn.

It is not that I did not like criticism of my paintings, but it has to come from the proper source. The fact that Clare, who was recently employed as my cook cum maid, was commenting rather than criticizing my work made me both angry and annoyed at the same time. And I looked at her with hatred in my eyes. It is not that I do not like housemaids or cooks advising me, but it better be about their sphere of work and nothing else. Like my earlier maid cum cook Rose had advised me to do away with my old sofa which could not be cleaned thoroughly and at the same time was occupying too much space in my small living room and I had obliged, though I had many fond memories associated with it, or when she advised me to buy a particular brand of oil for cooking for it was supposed to be healthier, I had agreed without another thought. Because all these pieces of advice were within the sphere of their activities.

I felt that to have someone like your housemaid-cum-cook telling you about the hues and shades of colours to be used in painting was outright rude.

Besides, I was neither a student nor a novice painter.

I had completed my Arts graduation with honors and was working as a freelance painter, totally shunning any job which offered stable income but stagnant growth as a painter. Naturally, I had refused the post of teacher in many schools and lectures in many colleges because I felt the school’s syllabus or the college’s guidelines would suffocate my freedom of expression since I will have to paint within known boundaries. Freelance painting gave me the freedom and flourish to paint as freely and randomly as I wanted. As and when I wanted.

There were the cons also, for I did not have a steady income and had to wait for my paintings to sell to earn. Naturally, there was no question of affording cooks and maids and had it not been for my excessive lethargy towards cooking and cleaning, I would have never considered hiring maids and cooks.

Though it may appear cliché, no painter can survive only on art! 

He obviously needs food to live and thrive.

So I hired Clare basically as a cook but she said that she was ready to do the cleaning of the house also for a slight increase in salary, which I suspected that she needed badly.

I agreed, thinking that it would give me more time to concentrate on my paintings, and anyway with the ‘National level painting competition’ being just a few months away, I had to complete a set of six paintings on different topics before the crucial deadline.

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“You should have used either Cerulean or Cobalt for painting sky blues; and Prussian blue or Ultramarine or Cerulean blue deep or Cobalt Turquoise for painting seas" Clare blurted out, leaving me surprised and added, "While for the sky at the horizon, a warm blue like Manganese is usually preferred since the sky gains warmth at the horizon”.

In college, while painting skies, I had been taught to use warmer blues for tropical and coastal locations, and my Professor had elaborated a bit on the shades of blues that can be used, but when I heard this advice from my maid Clare, I was flabbergasted, to say the least. This time, I was more stunned than offended!

“How the hell do you know about colours?” I asked her in a challenging tone.

“Because I am learning painting!” Clare answered brightly, a slow smile of reminiscence appearing on her face.

I was more dumbfounded than ever. Learning painting is one thing and learning about the intricates and finer points of painting is a wholly new and different thing. And I knew that no simple hobby class on painting would care to give such detailed information on such finer things.

“Did you attend a hobby painting class?" I questioned her, my eyes narrowing. For now, I was seeing a different personality. Someone who did more than mere cooking and cleaning and dusting, like attend a painting class for a hobby.

Clare nodded enthusiastically though she muttered to herself ‘hobby?’ as if she was thinking about it for the first time.

I did not bother to ask her about the teacher who was giving her lessons on painting for I knew that it being summer, there was no dearth of such ‘hobby classes’ that had mushroomed all over the place, where they promised to teach you anything from learning to paint to play the piano to salsa dancing to speaking French to learning swimming or football and even claimed to make you an expert in that respective field in as little as ‘just 15 days.

And to think that people spend their entire lives learning one art and still feel that they are mere students, not masters! I was pretty sure that Clare must have joined some such ‘hobby class for painting’ believing to learn all the styles and techniques of painting in a matter of 15 days!

“A month……….” Clare spoke abruptly “I have already completed one month of the painting class. Just one more to go” she added happily.

“Oh! So it is a 2 months hobby class!” I exclaimed, a slight amount of respect creeping up in my voice. So Clare was not that kind of ‘15 days or 7 days or 10 days or weekend class' type of person. Must be dedicated and disciplined enough.

"What more have you learned besides colours in your painting class?" I asked her more sarcastically than I ever felt I could speak.

"The techniques, of course!" Clare replied brightly, with confidence that denoted that she had 'learned it all, done it all. Before I could react, Clare moved closer to my painting scrutinizing it, and said more disapprovingly "That is why I know for certain that the techniques that you have used to paint the sky and the sea are not correct”.

I was offended, to say the least, but said mechanically and in an almost challenging tone "What techniques?” though I should not have, for the last thing that I wanted to do was to learn painting techniques from a maid-cum-cook, proud that I was that I had spent a total of four rigorous years learning the ropes and the basics of painting techniques and brush strokes in my graduation.

“While painting seascapes, the painter has to remember that since the earth is round, so the horizon where the water meets the sky has to be more convex, which is not present in your painting," Clare said and almost pointed an accusing finger at the horizon in my painting. “But while painting the sky, even when the sky is clear, there has to be a sense of depth perception, so a painter should not paint only the brightness alone, he has to paint the shadows in it to give a sense of space and depth. Also, remember that the sky tends to lighten towards the horizon. So the lightest, warmest blue usually occurs at the horizon line" she elucidated, still looking thoughtfully at the canvas.

“How do you know all these details?” I asked her.

“My teacher taught me” Clare answered jubilantly, smiling sweetly.

“Must be an extraordinary teacher” I murmured softly.

Now I had sat down on the wooden stool that I used to sit on when I am contemplating deeply on my painting or studying it critically and facing her, said to her "What more has he taught you?" and for the first time in my life wanted to be tutored by her.

My maid cum cook. Clare.

“Oh! So many things!” Clare said wishfully, sighing as she too took a break from her sweeping job and put down the broom which she had in her hand and added “So many things……….pity he teaches only an hour every day……….I would certainly love to learn more”

I beckoned her to take a seat opposite me and handed her a cup of coffee asking her to drink it with me. Usually, I give her coffee every day, but she drinks it in the kitchen, which is unconditional ‘her space’. Today, I wanted to learn. And not just about painting from Clare. But about Clare.

Suddenly I realized how little we know about the people who are so important in our lives, be it our maids, our watchmen, or our drivers. Why I did not even know the name of most of the watchmen of my society! I knew that this had nothing to do ‘with being busy or being too preoccupied. It was more than just ‘time’ that was the culprit here. We never bothered or cared enough about people who serve us and without whom we would be totally lost. Anyway, today I had determined to find out more about Clare.

So I asked Clare “What more has he taught you?” looking at her expectantly.

Clare’s eyes twinkled with brightness and brilliance and she sighed once again before proceeding “Well…he taught me that in order to make the painting convincing, especially while painting the sky, one has to remember that as the eye travels higher up in the atmosphere, the blue colour becomes deeper, cooler and more transparent as we move up. Besides a painter should never forget to add various tints and tones of various colours other than blue to build up the sky naturally and authentically. Experimenting with varieties of strokes like thick and thin always yields favourable results” she said looking disapprovingly at the sky that I had painted, even shaking her head occasionally.

“And, what about the technique for painting seas?” I asked her tersely for by now I had realized that I could expect some fresh ideas from her.

“For the seas” began Clare, reflectively “The painter has to consider the impact of the techniques of light and reflection since they are seen most prominently while painting seas. This is because the interaction of water is different with the sun, the sky, and with clouds at different times. Moreover, my teacher taught me that due to the changing motion which is an important quality of water, and its ability to be both reflective and transparent at the same time, it exhibits a range of shifting colours, so painting seas are both fascinating and challenging to any painter………….including for my teacher himself and he has told me that even he finds painting seas the most difficult and demanding task”.

I knew that no hobby class would teach a student beyond the basics of the colour blue. 

Like the colour, blue is the colour that induces calmness, relaxation, tranquillity, even inspiration maybe, or that there is a difference between sky blue and sea blue. But explaining minute details of shades and techniques of using blue colour was something that no hobby class could explain for it would simply be outside the scope of their limited framework.

“My teacher also taught me that blue is the only colour that maintains its character in all of its tones, in other words, a blue will always stay blue in all the tones” Clare explained profusely.

“What else did he teach you about the colour blue?” I asked greedily, desperate to know more.

“Well…. My teacher also remarked that the famous painter Picasso had his ‘Blue period’ between the years 1900 and 1904 for it was a dominant colour in all his works and the mood that it reflected was of profound melancholy, which must have been his reaction to his personal emotional turmoil and his financial crisis” Clare answered elaborately, sipping the hot coffee.

"He taught you about Picasso?" I asked her since even I had never heard this story about the great painter in my college days.

This was something splendid and spectacular.

This made me more curious than ever before.

“Master! Your teacher has to be a master!” I exclaimed.

“Yes!” Clare answered simply “His name is Lalit Dasgupta”

“Lalit Dasgupta!” I sprung up as if an electric current had passed through me. “THE LALIT DASGUPTA?”

“Yes! The Padma Bhushan award-winner Lalit Dasgupta. I clean his Padma Bhushan award almost every day!” Clare chuckled mischievously.

“You what?” I exclaimed, my eyes round with wonder.

“I said I clean his Padma Bhushan award almost every day because I work in his house as a maid-cum- cook” Clare answered.

I was silent for a long, long time, trying to let whatever Clare had just told me 'sink in'.

LALIT DASGUPTA!

“But why would he teach you painting?” I asked her, for everyone in the painting world knew what a great painter but a weird eccentric man Lalit Dasgupta was.

Lalit Dasgupta had outrightly refused to teach painting to anyone no matter how much people had begged him. He hated publicity, he never spoke a kind word to anyone or about anyone, never praised or motivated any new painter, and even when respectable International and National organizations had approached him with the offers of a permanent job as a Professor or huge sums of money to teach students in their reputed Colleges, he had refused curtly, stating that ‘his art is not for sale.

Moody. Eccentric. Genius. Tough master. Perfectionist. Non-conformist. Rebel.

All these adjectives had been used to describe the one and only LALIT DASGUPTA, a painter par excellence, a rare gem.

‘But why would he teach a maid-cum-cook painting when he had refused to teach even gifted and reputed painters the world over?’ I wondered bewildered.

“But why would he teach you painting?” I asked again this time more loudly than before.

“Oh, he never wanted to” Clare began decisively “but he had no choice. You see, he has no hard cash to pay me. So he offered to pay me back with the only talent he has got- by teaching painting. So he teaches me one hour every day which he hopes would be equivalent to my 300 rupees daily wages”

“One hour of painting class to pay back just 300 rupees!” I exclaimed “Why! People are willing to pay him thousands of rupees for just one hour of teaching!” I said remembering his real monetary worth, recalling all the offers that it was rumoured that he had flatly refused.

“What more did he teach you?” I asked Clare, eager to know more.

“Oh! He is a bit crazy, you see….”Clare put up her hands in dismay and said “He talks all kinds of nonsense……..like while teaching about the colour blue, besides telling me that blue colour has the potential to be either still and calming or even free-flowing and liberated and that to represent trust the colour blue is preferred, and he also told me that mosquitoes are more attracted to the colour blue than any other colour and that the bluebirds are not capable of seeing the colour blue and that the only birds that can see the colour blue are………… would you believe it ……..the night owl and …………………………" saying so, Clare started telling me one eccentric thing after the other that she had learned from the eccentric genius, Lalit Dasgupta!