Years ago one of my art teachers had the class paint an angry dog. What he wanted to see was ANGRY. People would register that it was a dog with minimal indications. A lot of the paintings showed red and black. Aggressive colors.
When we go to buy a Valentine, would we expect anything other than red? The heart shape demands that warm, “loving” color.
When I think of buying a new car, do I want a red one? Don’t they say it appears to move faster? Isn’t it more dangerous?
I don’t think of the inside of my body as any color other than red. Isn’t that the color I see when the skin is torn in any way? Inside me: red. Vulnerable.
In this cold winter with its muted greys and snow-covered greens, who doesn’t yearn for red? Who doesn’t love warm clothes, a warm fire? Who doesn’t want that overflowing, emotional red?