My favorite color...

I.

Cornflower Blue. Such a complex combination of a savory, fragrant, sight rarely seen and rarely used. You won't find it on parking signs, or in the morning sky. It isn't a shade often used in clotheslines, or found in the iris of someone's eye. It can be briefly captured when night begins to devour day; when the two halves meet, and in their mingling tinge an arc of gray cupped across the sky. It's deep, beyond the basic lip of an island beach; found in the watery depths that only mechanics can allow man to experience. Even its name feigns in describing its hue accurately. Instead, imagine it wet, mushed together in your mouth, filling it with its thickness, and graininess. That is Cornflower Blue. That is the fullness that I experience when this rare gem catches my eye. 

II.

She, for I often imagine this color as feminine, catches the corner of my eye quite frequently. Not because she is laced abundantly in natures color palate, for sadly she is not, but because as an artist I seek her out: In paint swatches, in interior decor, down fashion runways, on every shelf in bookstores. Any tint, shade, tone, purity or dreariness she wears, I am entranced. Only man has captured her so frequently, though she is left unnoticed by the 'common man'; those who bustle to and fro, trapped in their unimportant desires and unimportant fears, too busy to give her a piece of their mind. But I do. 

III.

In my mind, she touches a sadness that is held deep within me, and places a veil of melancholy over my days, and yet I crave her presence. To me, she is my reality, my muse, my shade of rose-colored glasses. With her I am lost in foggy streets, and hidden passageways, drowning in seas of silence, and the absence of doubt. Wrapped within her beguilement, whisked into slumber, or shielded in her confidence stretched out over my fragility, I am in adoration to her ever-giving nature.

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Cornflowers (Centaurea cyanus) are among the few "blue flowers” that are truly blue, as most lean towards a shade of blue-purple, with the slight tinge of green that offsets this color in it’s rarity, there were very few artists that first developed a style of using this pigment when it was first discovered. Only recently seen as a flower, it was originally considered a weed growing in crop fields, hence its name, considering that fields that grew grains such as wheat, barley, rye, or oats were formerly known as "corn fields" in England. In folklore during those times, men wore cornflowers when they were in love, believing that if their flowers faded too quickly, their love would not be returned.