Featuring: Lydia Andersen's Painted Paint Chips

One item of constant fascination for me is how colors are named. The more I learn about color, both historical and contemporary, the less I'm convinced that there was ever a single way of naming color. On many occasions, I've mentioned the naming of colors after the material used to make the dye or paint. We've also seen times when we called colors based on materials source of origin, like ultramarine blue or Tyrian purple. And let's not even start with indigo.

Other times, we've found that colors are named after things to which they are similar. The color banana mimics the banana at perfect ripeness. The 15th century Italian paonazo, just meant that it was blue like a peacock. The dye used to achieve that color would have been guado, or Italian woad.

When we say that wine is either "ruby red" in English or lâl (tulip red) in Farsi, we are saying that the color of this wine is similar to this other treasured item. When we use the word merlot or cabernet to describe a red shade, we are comparing it to the typical hue of the varietal. And when we call something champagne- or burgundy-colored, we mean that it is the typical color of the wine produced either in the Champagne or Burgundy regions of France.

A few months ago, when I was exploring the origins of Web colors, I came across the Sinclair Paint color swatches which one of the researchers used to name a slew of colors to the X11 list. On the array of names chosen by Sinclair Paint, I commented "There is something beautifully human about this." They used references ranging from forgotten historical fashion to ice cream.

Sometimes, as I look through the names of many modern paint swatches, I am reminded of the words used by the ancients to describe the three (or four) colors of the rainbow. They were all expensive or mythical items. Even the word used to describe a rainbow by many, Iris, was a goddess with a whole backstory. Any discussion of the rainbow would effectively be cosmic storytelling.

And then I spent some time looking through Lydia Andersen's paint chip artwork portfolio, which gives a completely different quotidian, even fun, take on the functional use of using paint chips to decide which colors to paint your home. In her art practice, Lydia takes paint chips from hardware stores and creates tiny paintings of everyday things.

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I'm just really a fan of Lydia's work.

Meeting Lydia

Several years ago, I went to an art market in Chicago and discovered a talented artist Lydia Andersen from Appleton, Wisconsin, whose booth featured tiny acrylic paintings on paint chips, with "the subject matter directly influenced by the name and color." Over the past decade, she has estimated to have painted more than 1000 of these paint chips. I have loved seeing her work on Instagram ever since.

Lydia's work is such a delightful example of combining creative constraints and unadulterated whimsy to create tiny works of visual storytelling.

Couples' Conversations

Considering that these are names of colors people would ostensibly be using to decide the color palette for their home, it fascinating me that someone would decisions that they would have to live with every day using some of the names of these colors. These are some of the conversations I imagined:

"Sweetie, should we paint the breakfast nook 'Peeps', 'Nacho Cheese', or 'Golden Nugget'?"

"Honey, should we go with with Mayonnaise or Marshmallow in the guest bedroom?"

An over-caffeinated couple debating about the perfect coffee shade, and then wondering if the "cappuccino" is actually the color of a cappuccino.

However much I love the painting, and even the paint chip color, I cannot imagine someone telling their spouse:

"Darling, let's go with the Raccoon Fur in the living room!"

Appleton, Wisconsin

Lydia is an artist who celebrates both color and (oftentimes truly bizarre) color names. But she also celebrates where she lives.

In a recent collection commemorating Erich Weiss' upcoming 100th yahrtzeit (100 years since Harry Houdini's tragic death) for the Society of American Magicians' convention in Appleton, she chose six paint chips with names like "Magical", "Marvelous Magic", "Mystére", "Show Stopper", "Mesmerize", and of course, "Abra Cadabra". When the Weisz family fled Hungary, they first moved to Appleton, Wisconsin, where his father was the rabbi of the Zion Reform Jewish Congregation for a brief time.

Last week, the greater area where Lydia lives was struck with a EF3 tornado, while her home was thankfully spared, several of the nearby towns suffered "catastrophic damage". In order to help her neighbors, she is donating 100% of the sales for her $20 6x8" Wisconsin Print to the United Ways Fox Cities to aid in rebuilding efforts. It obviously includes "Sharp Cheddar".

Colorphile

While I would suggest purchasing any of her very affordable art, as this is Colorphilia, I am (probably) legally required to recommend her various 8x8" color-centric montage prints for $35 each.