While looking for another book in the cabinet this week, I came by chance across one I bought some years ago, which in a broad sense discusses the colour theories of the German writer Johan Wolfgang von Goethe. I realized that I actually never read that book, so I took it out and made it my commuting fellow for a couple of days.

The book is written by the Danish ceramist and industrial designer Lone Schmidt and my version of it was published by Klematis A/S in 1995. Its title is unsurprisingly “Farven og Lyset” (The Colour and the Light).

Standing with it in the rush of the Parisian Metro I learned about Goethe’s friendship with Schiller and their discussions on the phenomenon: light. These two gentlemen were not only interested in the physical properties of light, but more, it seemed to me, in the human perception of light and thereby perception of colours. As an additional branch of their interest they apparently also attempted to map colours vs. the states of mind of people. I found that amusing.

Noting the importance in particular Goethe put on the perception of the phenomena related to light made me reflect a little. Not in the direct line of an analysis, but merely as a reflection on the importance we put on how colours in our works will be perceived by the viewers.

It dawned upon me that we usually do not explicitly think of colours that way – instead we seem to be more focused on whether a colour from our vantage point “works” in a given design or motif. That is, whether we think it is in harmony with the other colours of the applied palette and if it supports the expression we are seeking.

Well, this is natural, since we are principally producing – not acquiring. But the reflection left the question in my mind as to whether we were missing out on an important aspect in our creative endeavours?

I thought about it and came to the conclusion that we are not missing out on this aspect – we are just not explicitly focusing on the perception of colours per se. Instead, we cover this aspect implicitly when determining the palette for a given work, because in this action we also determine the mood we want to connect to the motif.

So, it was interesting reading I had stowed away in the cabinet for those years – and I’m glad I came across the book. And you know what was particularly interesting? It was the fact that two writers had taken up this interest and pursued it to such depth – and not two physicists. Through their interest the concept of colour became richer with the inclusion of the aspect of perception.

In July I reflected about that good feeling of looking forward to the summer holidays and how busy we were in cleaning the plate, so that no old projects would be waiting for us upon return and so that we could start right away on new ones – unloading the mind for tons of new ideas.

That was very good – then. Now, when it is now, I have it somewhat like our little friend in the cartoon above. I do not exactly feel the ideas standing in a long line, either – just waiting for me to formulate them.

So, am I presently in the Artistic Doldrums where there are no inspirational winds to fill the sails? Is my only hope that Cyrus the unsinkable Sea Serpent will pass by and pull me out and haul me to the Sea of Many Inspirations?

Somewhere in the back of my mind there is a feeling that the situation is not that dramatic, after all. And it probably is not like in an adventure game where I must find a key to open for whatever has accumulated during the holidays. The feeling in the back of my mind tells me that it is through dialogue with Inge on upcoming new projects, that the inspiration this holiday inevitably must have brought me – if not explicitly, then surely implicitly – will emerge.

Perhaps we are here seeing the beginning of a demonstration that, contrary to the old myth, inspiration does not come to artists as a godsend flash from somewhere and that one does not just have to sit in the old red armchair waiting for it.

This summer’s inspiration is rather likely to be revealed in various subtle ways through a continuous engagement with the art, through the thinking required for our coming projects.

This is not bad at all. Imagine I had to rely on Cyrus to pass by…

Yesterday we visited a gallery featuring three contemporary Russian artists using oil on canvas as their medium for artistic expression. We spent a good time there and before leaving we did what we usually do in galleries and at exhibitions – we asked ourselves the question: “If we were to take one with us home, which one would it be?”

For us this question triggers a very useful dialogue between us. The opinions and mutual deliberation open eyes to aspects not thought about by the other and we establish some kind of a closure of the visit in the gallery.

Today, Saturday the 16^th of August, the exhibition “On a Grand Scale” opens at the Museum of the American Quilter’s Society – MAQS for short. It will run until the 15^th of November and is a so-called dialogue exhibition featuring examples of quilts from our studio on the one side and quilts from the studio of Eleanor McCain from the US on the other.

As was the case with us visiting the gallery with the Russian artists yesterday our 19 works included in “On a Grand Scale” not only form a dialogue with those provided by Eleanor McCain for the exhibition, they will certainly also enter into dialogue with the visitors.

How these dialogues will evolve is outside our sphere of control. This is no surprise – we know that this will be the case at the moment our works leave home. We usually say that they now have to continue their lives with the viewers and whatever our opinions may be about them, they do not count out there. Put differently, the works are in the hands of the viewers.

They are also in the hands of the curator. How will she arrange them, how will they be combined mutually and with those of Eleanor McCain?

MAQS is made for displaying quilts, so conditions will probably be as optimal as possible, and the curator, Judy Schwender has arranged numerous exhibitions, so we believe the dialogue exhibition “On a Grand Scale” is in good hands.

Understandably, we would have loved to be at the opening today – to experience this event and to “take in” the exhibition as it presents itself to the viewers. Believe me when I say that we would not have left the exhibition without asking the usual question: “If we were to take one with us home, which one would it be?”

A couple of weeks ago we cleaned the artistic plate and went off on vacation to recharge the creative batteries – not knowing what would impress us during the days ahead. Impress us in the sense that it would set off lines of thoughts in the creative department.

Although we have had a variety of experiences through visits in the Danish regions, e.g. going to the capital by train (a first in 30-40 years for the two of us), seeing people, dining excellently, etc. the most impressive one was nature. The land is relatively flat and especially in coastal regions the horizons are wide, very wide indeed and the sky as high and far stretching as one can ever wish for.

Yes, we have had rainy days, but changing and unstable weather conditions do provide for a pay-off in the form of the most fantastic skyscapes. When we yesterday drove up north and entered the coastal regions up there the skyscapes became just magnificent. Wild and broken sections blended with high layers of haze, again blended with portions of cobalt blue and Payne’s grey where respectively clear sky and heavy, rainy clouds dominated.

Although I know the region very well, I found the landscape rather boring and the sky so much more rewarding to follow as we approached the tip of the peninsula. Maybe the landscape was not that boring after all, maybe it was as good as I always thought it was, but yesterday the skyscapes just took centre stage.

And today the skyscapes continued to impress as we strolled along on the wide beaches – now accompanied by the lively seascape, all the way from the breakers to the horizon. It was just fantastic!

Every place has its own rhythm – over the year, the week and the day. Does this rhythm influence the senses? Can it be rendered artistically?

Limited to the scale of a day, the rhythm of a place is from an overall point of view ruled by the light as it varies over the 24 hours, moving from night over dawn, morning, noon, afternoon, evening to night again. But under this rhythm every place has its own sub-rhythm, if I can put it that way.

The hotel where we stay has its own rhythm, determined by the needs of the guests, reception of deliveries, cleaning of rooms, change of staff, etc. It is situated on the shore of a narrow strait, which also has its own rhythm, determined by the traffic of ships, yachts, fishermen in their dinghies and the alternating current.

Just in front of the hotel there is this small yachting harbour, which is also home for a handful of small fishing boats and dinghies. It also has its own rhythm determined by the activities in the morning when the sailing people wake up, cook breakfast and when they later leave for their next port of call. The rhythm of the harbour continues with the arrival of the first new visiting yachts and motor boats and later in the afternoon when the small harbour has its rush hour.

In our view there are two bridges. To our left there is the “old” one with its own rhythm determined by the traffic of local, regional and international trains, supplemented by limited traffic of cars and trucks. To our right, and further away, there is the “new” bridge with its rhythm of motorway traffic.

And above us there are the seagulls with their own rhythm determined by the light of the day and the behaviour of the fish in the water of the strait.

It may sound as if we are in a very busy place. Perhaps it is, on its own scale, but it does not feel like being busy. Actually the opposite is the case. The place has a very relaxed atmosphere inviting to observation and reflection over things and preparation for letting in new inspirations.

The first reflection was about the rhythm of this place – leading to the questions as to the degree with which this rhythm influences the senses, and whether it can be rendered artistically? I believe it influences the senses, because it influences the mood; but whether the rhythm of a place, like this for example, can be rendered artistically remains an open question to me.