The Eyes of Texas Are Within Me

I have eleven colors of paint throughout our three-bedroom house. I’ve thrown the Pantone book at the walls, like painting the living room a dark, glossy chocolate verging on black, and a fireplace in the dining room robin egg blue. Why do I do it? Is it an intense loathing for a beige life? Yes. Is it because I believe I should embrace living my own home, rather than keeping white walls for the next person to buy my house? Yes. But where does my love, and fearlessness, of color come from? It turns out it came from Texas.

I left my Canadian home for San Antonio to study advertising (and escape the great white north) in the 1990s. I lived south for ten years, and this Christmas Ted and I headed there for the holidays. Right away he said, “I guess this is where you discovered color.” The clash of cowboys, deserts, missions, gringos, salsa and Mexico have combined to capture every possible swatch in one place. Indeed, my camera easily captured it, too.

A buttery yellow bursts from cactus, or tints ostrich leather on a mint green cowboy boot. Hand-woven blazing red blankets lay under rich blacks in the same stores that carry stunning hand-dyed Latino dresses. White stone or feathers contrast with some of the bluest skies I’ve ever seen. I guess it was more than just the yellow rose of Texas that opened my eyes to a brilliantly colorful world. Yeehaw!

Tell me, are your walls white, or has color come into your life?  Click here for more pictures, and to see Ted (my Italian from Jersey) in a cowboy hat!