Between Two Palettes: My Relationship with Color in Painting and Apparel Design

I’ve realized my relationship with color changes depending on whether I’m holding a paintbrush or standing in front of my closet. Same color theory rules—contrast, harmony, mood—but somehow my brain applies them differently depending on whether it’s linen or canvas.

Take olive green, for example. On me? Gorgeous. Earthy, grounding, makes me feel like I could either lead a meditation retreat or command an army—very versatile. But when I sit down to paint, olive green basically gets ghosted. On canvas it feels too restrained, like it showed up to a dance party in business casual.

In painting, I chase brighter hues—colors that feel alive, energetic, a little chaotic. Olive green just looks at them like, “Please lower your voice, I’m trying to read.”

And then there’s yellow. People ask me my favorite color and I say “yellow.” Why? No clue. Maybe it’s because someone once told me it’s the color of energy. Or maybe I just like looking like a sentient ray of sunshine. Truth is, yellow doesn’t always dominate my closet or my paintings—but it lurks in the background, like that one friend who doesn’t text back but still somehow holds the group chat together.

That’s what fascinates me: color isn’t fixed. What empowers me in clothing might bore me in painting, and vice versa. But the overlap is where the magic happens—when two shades collide just right, whether on a canvas or a cardigan, it sparks the same joy.

So I guess I live between two palettes: one on my body, one on the easel. Basically, I’m in a love triangle with color. And honestly? Color knows it. It’s playing us both.