It seems like a simple question. Almost too ordinary to carry much weight. But for me, its significance runs deeper than its simplicity suggests. A few days before heading back to Burlington, one of my best friends from home and I drove to the Michaels near our house. I was searching for a watercolor set to bring back to school.
There was a wide array of brands and versions to choose from. I was looking for one that included a waterbrush— a brush that holds water in its handle and releases it as you paint. I love how the waterbrush gives me control and room to experiment. Sam encouraged me to splurge and buy the set with this brush, knowing how much joy it would bring me.
Within the first few days back on campus, I peeled back the protective tape, pulled the case from the box, and admired the charm of the colors before me. Since I was young, art has been my favorite outlet– letting me unwind, quiet the noise in my mind, and find my way back to a calmer state. This past summer, my passion for creating with watercolors began.
I have made a few pieces since returning to school. But it wasn’t until earlier last week, when a friend and I had an art night and talked about our favorite colors, that I finally understood why the question of having one favorite color has so many layers in my mind.
Choosing a single color feels impossible when the reasons I love color extend far beyond what I see with my eyes. Instead, they are woven into memories, objects, and pieces of my life that each color has come to represent. I feel grounded through color, as some of the world’s greatest sights don’t stay the same shade or saturation. A sunset, for example, whose beauty lies partly in its fleeting nature. Or my favorite: flowers. Shifting between tones, each one carrying its own combination of colors that somehow never feels exactly the same.
Colors also change and morph, a valuable reminder to us in a world where change is inevitable. A color can fade, deepen, blend into another, or transform into something entirely new, yet we don’t see that transformation as something to fear. We see it as what makes color beautiful. Change is uncomfortable and startling because it asks us to leave behind what we know. If we never changed at all, I believe that would be scarier. It would mean never discovering what we could become.
Just as colors would lose something if they were hindered from blending and transforming, we need change to grow into new versions of ourselves. This is partly why I find comfort in the variety of colors. Each shade holds something different for me.
Or maybe I can’t choose a favorite color because of the associations that fill my thoughts. “So, what’s your favorite color?” Well, I could say red– my love for red runs through my blood. It is the hair color my mom passed down to me. Whenever someone asks about my hair, I smile and share that I received it from my mother. But, I could also say blue. My admiration for blue runs as deep and as wide as the ocean itself– memories of the beach, swimming, and time spent in the ocean with my brother swell in my head like a crashing wave. Or do I say my favorite color is green? Green because it is interlinked with nature itself. Every backpacking trip I’ve done, every piece of grass I have spent lying on, the leaves that change when fall turns the corner– green never fails to leave me in awe. I could say purple, the color my best friend and I painted in our childhood bedrooms. Childhood memories echo loudly in my mind, like the sound of laughter within those four walls.
“What’s your favorite color?” I can’t decide. So instead, I will smile and choose them all.
Once again, I pick up my watercolor brush and paint some flowers and am reminded that flowers themselves never needed to choose just one color.