More often, I find these combinations in nature. The city offers its moments, certainly, but it is the natural world that feels utterly fluent in color. Moss against stone. A bruised lavender sky settling behind a line of dark trees. The chalky green of a cactus beside the warmth of clay. Nothing is trying too hard. It simply belongs.
I am always watching for those quiet harmonies. The way sage softens rust. The way dusted blue leans gently into ochre. These pairings feel inevitable, as though they were arranged long before I arrived to notice them.
In the studio, I am not so much inventing color as honoring it. I borrow from what I have seen, from what felt steady and true in the world around me. When a combination carries that natural logic, the painting settles. It breathes. And I feel, quite gratefully, that I am collaborating with something far wiser than myself.
