It seems strange, yet fitting, that my first 52 Weeks of Color posting after coming home from the hospital is for the color Indigo. It immediately reminded me of a good friend, just a few years older than me, whose death last year shocked me with its suddenness. She was a true artist and often gave me pieces of her work. Her work hangs all over my home. Her last project was writing a young adult novel and I am slowly working my way through it, editing it for her family before they seek publication. It’s a slow process because when I read, I hear her voice and drift into remembrance. She was also a finder of odd and interesting books that she would give her friends. One that she gave me was an artist’s “memoir” of the color indigo. A strange and extraordinary book, I expect it is long out of print and possibly vanity-published as I cannot find it anywhere on the web to point you in its direction. That was one of her gifts – the art of finding strange, inexplicable and surprising books that could seem bizarre at first blush, but always were fascinating and fun reads. Indigo will always make me think of her – and the memories are wonderful.
