I’m reading up about Yves Klein’s blue. It gives me his reasons, not mine. There are historical connotations about precious blue pigment; blue symbolism and it’s associations with sad emotions. Songs arise in my mind – some I don’t mind (“the blues are still blue”) and some I do mind (“bo ba ba biep ba ba bie”). The memory of what it felt when I stood next to that pool in Iceland. That special shade that is in the waves of the ocean by my mother’s house, that we call Ballito Blue.
None of these are reasons. Why blue?