Alt var så enkelt da jeg var lita. I hvert fall når det kom til farger. Rosa og rødt var for jenter og blått for gutter. Bortsett fra marineblått. Det kunne man kle seg i som dame, spesielt til høytidelige anledninger. Gutta kom forresten fra det med æren i behold om skianorakken var rød. Man skulle jo synes i fjellet. Sort måtte man ikke bruke til fest, for det var en sorgens farge, og det brukte man bare i begravelser, eller hvis man var filmstjerne og poserte for et ukeblad. Rødt og oransje var ikke bra sammen, i følge mormor. Jeg husker ennå den tilsvarende diskusjonen om grønt og blått; mormor var åpenlyst rystet da hun skjønte at jeg faktisk syntes de to var fine sammen. Det fineste porselenet hadde gullkant, og hjemmet var ikke komplett uten sølvbestikk til de store høytidsstundene.
It was quite simple when I was a little girl, at least when we were talking colors. Pink and read where girly and blue was the boy colour. Excpept from navy blue. You could wear that as a woman, especially in solemn situations. The guys could wear red ski jackets without ruining their reputation. You were to be seen in the mountains. Black was not a party colour, because that was the colour of grief, and that was only used in funerlas, or if you were a film star and posed for the weekly magazines. Red and orange was not an acceptable colour combination, according to my grandma. i still remember the equivalent discussion about blue and green. She was openly shaken when she understood that I actually thought that they were great together. The nicest porcelain plates had a golden edge, and a home wasn't complete without silver cutlery for the family holidays.
|Mamma, brodern og jeg. Pappa er fotograf|
My mum, my brother and me. Dad is the photographer
Then the eighties arrived. Pink was no longer reserved the female sex. Nobody raised an eyebrow when the boys showed up with pink Ball sweaters and poodle hair, the latter after starting using another female bastion, the permanent coils. Nobody, expect from my grandma and her generation, probably. From USA we got Dynasty and the Color Me Beautiful-concept. Everybody could use clothes and makeup in all colours, as long as the nuances were right, we could read in the weekly magazines. I transferred the new colour freedom to my room and insisted on painting the door of the wardrobe crimson. The blunder was evident when I first pressed the brush against the door, but I couldn't admit that. The misery was complete because of the wallpaper I'd chosen; red, too large hearts in the same nuance of red filled one wall. My other gramdmother's medicine cabinet suffered the same way as the cupboard door, and the single, small, white pretzel I added, could not ease the painfull recognition of that signal red is to be handled with care.
På 90-tallet hadde jeg flyttet for meg selv. Bortsett fra en sjøgrønn skinnsofa og ditto BBB-reol, kom jeg meg greit gjennom det tiåret fargemessig. De første lappeteppene ble sydd med Ittens fargesirkel langt framme i bevisstheten. Så oppdaget jeg Kaffe Fassett. Mannen som sa at "hvis du tror du har nok farger, finn fram enda noen til" (sånn omtrent). Etter to kurs med han, følte jeg meg trygg på fargevalg. - Kongeblå kant til det brune og oransje teppet blir helt fint, forsikret jeg kursdeltakeren, som mente jeg var gal. (I ettertid ga hun meg rett). Milleniumet var passert, selbuvottene mine fikk moderne farger, men etter hvert ble fargeskalene mine mindre og mindre fargesprakende. En stund gikk alt i blått, før det stoppet opp. Jeg hadde sluttet å prøve nye kombinasjoner, og i stedet begynt å spørrre: går det an det, da?
During the nineties I had got my own home. Except form a sea green sofa and ditto book case, I managed to get through the decennium without loosing my pride colourwise. The first quilts where sewn with Ittens colour circle in focus. Then I discovered Kaffe Fassett. The man who said "if you think you have enough colours, dig out a few more" (or something like that). After taking two classes with him, I felt confident regarding colour choices. - Royal blue binding for the brown and orange quilt will be just great, I ensured on of my students, who thought I was mad. (Later on she gave me right). The millenium came and went, my mittens got contemporary colours, but after a while my colour schemes narrowed. For a while I worked in only blues, before I totally stopped being creative. New combinations was out of the question, and instead I had started asking myself, can I do this?
Heldigvis løsnet det igjen. Bilder av Missonis fargesprakende tekstiler fikk meg til å finne fram det lekende barnet i meg igjen, og puter som denne kom overraskende lett. Det samme gjorde disse babyteppene, som ble produsert i vår, da jeg gikk løs på garnlageret mitt for alvor. Ettersom jeg har vært fast bestemt på at jeg skulle prøve å bruke opp mest mulig uten å kjøpe nytt, var jeg ganske sikker på at etter babyteppene var det ikke mulig å få til noe spennende. Rosa, olivengrønt, turkis, marineblått og brunt er vel ikke den mest åpenbare kombinasjonen, eller? Det tror i hvert fall at min mormor ville sagt.
Fortsettelse følger... ;-)
Luckily it didn't last. My mind felt like playing again after seeing the colourful textiles of Missoni, and pillows like this was easily produced. The same did these baby blankets, which was produced last spring. I had decided to use up most of my stash without buying new yarn, and I was quite sure that nothing exciting could be made form the rest of my stash. Pink, olive green, turqoise, navy blue and brown aren't the most obvious colours put together, are they? I'm quite sure that my grandma would have said so.
To be continued... ;-)