Red

The color red is always a little bit noisy.

Whether I see it in the city or on a screen,
it never settles quietly into its place.
It forces its way into my field of vision, stirs my emotions, and lingers faintly even after it has passed.

When I heard that red was the first color humans recognized as a "color,"
I found myself somewhat convinced.

The color of blood, the color of fire, the color of the setting sun.
Red exists in both life and death, in beginnings and endings.
Humanity must have felt that red was "special"
long before we even had words.

The lines of red clay drawn on cave walls
might have been something closer to a prayer than mere decoration.
The desire for a successful hunt,
the desperation to survive another day.
Red was the very obsession with living.

As civilization emerged and society took shape,
red transformed into a symbol of power.
Only a select few were permitted to wear it,
and it became draped in wealth, authority, and sanctity.
Red became a "chosen color."

In Japan, too, red is a color that stands on the boundary.
The vermilion of a torii gate stands between the mundane and the extraordinary,
and red bean rice separates ordinary days from moments of celebration.
Red always separates this side from the other.

What is interesting is that red always holds contradictory meanings.
It is both a blessing and a warning.
It is the color of love and the color of anger.
People have projected their strongest emotions onto red.

Therefore, to like red
is surely close to wishing to "live strongly."
While saying we don't need to stand out,
we are actually wanting to confirm our own existence somewhere.

The reason I am drawn to red
might also come down to that if I dig deep enough.
Rather than blending into the background, I want to stand out.
Rather than settling for being safe, I want to hold onto a bit of discomfort.

Red is a color that asserts itself.
It is a color that cannot remain silent about its presence.
To be liked, or to be hated.
That clumsiness of swinging to one extreme or the other
is somehow also very human.

Color preferences change.
As experiences grow, as we find things to protect,
or when we lose something,
the colors we are drawn to also quietly change.

Even so, the fact that I am choosing red at this very moment
means I am certainly here.
While tracing the history of red,
I was confirming that simple fact
once again.

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