All The Pretty Colors

There once was a village renown the world over for its art festival. Every year from every corner of the globe, painters would bring in the best work they'd done all year and put it on display. Everyone loved the festival, and for many years, the town functioned as a destination for art and culture in its country.

But then one year an artist came in and would weep sporadically whenever a painting with the color red met his eye. As you can imagine, this was a big problem, as many paintings used the color red. Asked why this young man would weep, he said: "When I was young, my parents were killed by barbarians to the north. The color of their coats was red, and whenever I see that color, it reminds me of the death of my parents." The elders of the convention and all the other artists were quite moved by this young man. A secret meeting was convened, and it was decided that any painting with the color red should have that color replaced with a dark pinkish hue to avoid reminding the young man of his tragic loss. 

 

This was done, and the next year, no paintings had the color red in them. Well, everything was going quite well again, until a young lady began crying when she saw a picture of a forest. Asked why by a sympathetic elder, the young lady said: "When I was young, the color green was my favorite color...until the man with green eyes killed my kitten and told me that cats were evil, and that if he ever saw me playing with another one, he would kill that one too; and now whenever I see green, it reminds me of dead Fluffy." Again the elders were quite moved, and decided that nothing with the color green should be seen at the convention. They covered it instead with a greenish blue reminiscent of the ocean.

 

As you can imagine, as each year passed, some new artist would have some new sad story about something tragic that happened in childhood pertaining to a certain color. The color purple was banned by an artist who had an unfortunate incident at a textile factory, the color pink sent one young lady into spasms of nervous laughter that set everyone on edge, and you don't even want to know what traumatized the guy who couldn't stand the color yellow.

 

It eventually got to the point where the only shades allowed were black and white. And then, one year, someone complained about being afraid of the dark and told some horrific story about bogeymen, extraterrestrials, and other aspects of things that happen where "the sun don't shine". By the end of ten years, the only color allowed at the convention was white.

 

There's not a lot of artistic expression that can be conveyed on a purely white canvas with no grey, blue, black, green, red, yellow, or in-between shades to offset it. Very soon, the convention waned and died.

 

When there was only one old man left running what was once a worldwide festival, he remembered the time of his youth, and for the sake of nostalgia painted a picture using all the colors. Several people from the town noticed it when walking home from work one day--for the festival had been held in a park during Summertime so that all the townsfolk could come by on their natural route to and from their homes. Those who saw the painting of the old man realized they liked it--even missed the times of old. Within another decade's time, the convention had reinstated itself, and everyone was painting with multi-colored hues once again. Things were going well until someone noticed that one painting had more red in it than another, and wasn't it unfair that this color was over-represented? Didn't that bear insensitivity to the man whose parents had been killed so long ago--and what if someone else had been unfairly traumatized? Then another noticed an over-profusion of green, and this went on until everyone agreed that all colors must be equally represented in all paintings. When this was applied to all the artworks, the eventual result were a conglomeration of black canvases; for when all colors are combined, this is the eventual result. Again, such monocrhomatic color choice made it impossible for any picture to be expressive. Finally some wise artisan from a distant country came around and said: "Look, you've got to have different colors even if they affect people differently, because that's the point. Some colors are nicer than others, some are less attractive than others, but if we're going to be fair, if everything's going to be equal, the moment we ban one color, we must ban them all. And likewise, the moment we set up one color as better than the rest, we must soon give equal play to them all. Don't you see? Colors can't be banned or accepted based on how they affect people; everyone's different and will be affected differently. You can't please them all even if you present everything in equal portion! No, the colors must be used in deference to the artist's vision on the canvas. They shouldn't reflect any trend, they should be chosen and applied depending on what is being said in the painting itself."  

 

The elders had an "ah-ha!" moment at that point and replied: "By Jove, where were you twenty-odd years ago, and why the blazes didn't we think of that?" So from then on, the town's art show was a smashing success full of diversity and wonder. Sure, there were occasionally those artists who only used the most disgusting of colors; like fecal brown, or putrid green. They had their own followings, and were left to their own devices. Then there were those that only used candy colors like neon green or princess pink. They also developed their own followings. But if a painting were good, it didn't matter the colors used; because it affected the viewer, period. So, by natural processes, those painters with talent rose to the top, and those who didn't have so much skill would work harder to develop that which was laudable; and everybody lived happily ever after.

 

An old man told this story to a millennial, and the millennial said, "What the heck did that mean?"

 

The old man replied: "Ever heard of social justice warriors?"

 

"Of course!"

 

"Have you put two and two together yet?"

 

"Uh...I was never good at math."

 

So the old man backhanded the millennial and said: "The colors are forms of artistic expression!"

 

"Yeah, I got that," said the millennial.

 

"No, I mean metaphorically. Or analogously? Parabolically? This is a parable about modern art, you get it? But not like, art on a canvas. Yes, that's art; but that's not the only kind of art, you get it? Okay, let me start again: Movies, music, film, dance, comic books, graphic novels, actual novels, plays--these are like painting. If you only have paintings that are one color, they can't say anything! If you try and put all the colors in the paintings, they also can't say anything, you get it? You can't have any sort of artistic expression that's one-sided, because life isn't one-dimensional! Jesus gave to the poor, but His word also says if you don't work you don't eat! You get it? The white of social justice is offset by the black of employment, and between the two is a colored picture that's beautiful because of its diversity!"

 

"Are you drunk, old man?"

 

"Faugh!" 

 

"I'm just kidding! I get it."

 

"You do?"

 

"Of course I do! Nobody liked it before technicolor in film."

 

And that's why baby boomers get heartburn. 

 

 

...The beginning.