There’s something quietly radical about letting colour guide you. Not theory, not technique — but colour as emotion, as sensation, as presence.

This past weekend, I facilitated a monochrome workshop in at the Romulus Folio Gallery in South Melbourne, where each participant chose one colour to explore. Aside from one participant who preferred to work with two colours, we worked only with that colour and white — no brushes, just palette knives and feeling. It wasn’t about aesthetics. It was about listening. Letting movement come from the body. Letting stillness be part of the painting too. And the aesthetic found it’s place organically from there.

I watched people build relationships with their chosen colour — discovering its weight, its intensity, its edges — and then, with the addition of white, noticing how it changed. White wasn’t absence. It had its own emotion, its own quality. And when it met the colour, something new opened up — a shift, a blend, a quiet transformation.

By the end, everyone had created something out of a mediation on the colour, and for many what proceeded to unfold surprised even them. Each piece was unique, but more than that, each felt honest. That, to me, is the most meaningful kind of art.

I’m so grateful to everyone who came with openness and trust — and to the space we created together, the land on which we gathered, the tools, and the colour itself for holding so much.

Workshops like this continue to affirm that the creative process can be a deeply emotional and embodied one. And that’s the space I want to keep making — both for others and for myself.

With love,

Angelina