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| The Merry Pranksters, on the road in America. |
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| Pakistani bus/truck art. Photo copyright Umair Mohsin. More photos here. |
I've watched many of Palin's travel series, admiring his ease in discomfiting situations, his lack of resistance to the range and diversity of this planet and its life forms. Though, as he admits in an introductory promo, their stays are brief, he and his crew introduce us to distant communities, intentionally revealing them as our fellows, not as curiosities. He expresses concern that the mere presence of outsiders may change a way of life and not for the better.
In this episode, we're invited to see a polo match and festival for 10,000 villagers, held on a plain more than 12,000 feet up. Not having traveled outside my home state all that much, I find something within me expands as I am introduced to my world on a wider scale. Like a visit to the Planetarium, an armchair journey alters the scale of what I think I know. Rather than feeling diminished by my own minor participation in a whole too big to comprehend, I experience a sense of connectedness to the remote, even the infinite.
One of the two languages I speak is color. When I find it appreciated, applied in ways not seen on the streets of Los Angeles, I take notice. While I seem to be descended from people of a more limited palette, my years of sunshine, oranges, hydrangeas, hibiscus and geraniums in red clay pots have caused a mutation. What about marigold as the base color for my Honda? It seems a good place to begin.
16 comments:
I love that you see colour as a language! I've seen Michael Palin's BBC series and I so admire the way he relates to people...acceptance and wonder are great attributes if you travel the world or your own nieghbourhood.
Yes, Marylinn, color in a language, one in which I am becoming more and more fluent. From the days I spent in my play pen, I've always reached for the most colorful things life has to offer. Thank you for the Palin clip--color is one of God's great gifts to us, isn't it? xo
Colour as language - fantastic! Absolutely perfect - an international way of speaking to each other.
Erin
I began to take on color as a language about three years ago; before that, I more or less observed the hues of my people, earthy browns, duns, and greens. That said, I have noticed how the US has become drained of color in my lifetime, at least judging by cars and houses. Most new cars, particularly those marketed to any but the very young, are typically offered in black, white, grey, and silver, the usual concession to anything beyond the grey scale being a red, usually in the sober garnet range. Occasionally something in a sage tint. What a contrast to the days when cars came in as many colors as a big box of Crayolas, and were often two-toned. As for houses, Malvina Reynolds, writing of the suburbs' "ticky-tacky" little boxes in 1962, noted that there were pink ones and green ones, blue ones and yellow ones. How nostalgic, those halcyon days when one had such choice! In subdivisions today, it's much likelier to be a beige one and a grey one, a tan one and a white one. And they all look the same!
Never thought of it as multilingual.
They are whimsical, but does one arrive at ones destination in such a magic bus?
Kerry - Yes, his charming openness, his humor. And for me color, a language, also feels at times like an extension, a layer of self that just bursts into the midst of things. An alter ego. xo
Melissa - Seeing the buses, the trucks, one wonders why do we not paint ourselves, bedeck ourselves with garlands and roam about like Rose Parade floats. I'm beginning to understand more of what the 60s - the revolution - gave me. xo
Erin - Guerrilla art, which has always made perfect sense to me, takes on more significance when thought of in terms of the language of color. Message left in unexpected places. xo
Timothy - We have been blanched, haven't we, uniformed? Here in LA, home to low-riders and inspiration behind customized numbers as found in "Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby," the sameness, the anonymity of such a limited palette in auto paint adds to a sense of having wandered away from familiar landmarks. Our subdivisions are as you describe but one may still find Spanish-influenced stucco with a red tile roof and bouganvillea, or the pastel bungalow. I miss the individuality of color, but then I miss buildings shaped like hats and drive-in movies, too. (Nice to have your mention of Malvina Reynolds and "Little Boxes." I miss many things.)
Antares - From the Palin footage, it looked as though one would be as likely to arrive in a magic bus as any other conveyance. Not as sure about the Merry Pranksters. :)
No red tile roofs or bouganvilla in suburban upstate New York, Marylinn. Just vinyl siding, endless miles of it. Little wonder my son dreams of a life in LA after he's finished with college.
Magic bus!!!
I have this film the Kesey film. I was so in love with him. I still am.
xo
Timothy - If one seeks visual variety and winter temperatures that would be considered 'shirt sleeve' in other regions, Los Angeles has a lot to offer. In the smaller, older towns of the county and neighborhoods of long standing (by LA definition), the architecture is a source of wonder, certainly to me. And the colors of a summer twilight... I hope your son realizes his dream; we have always welcomed dreamers.
Laoch - Once upon a time, the Magic Bus people drove among us.
Rebecca - Because of Kesey and color and magic, I've been thinking there really was a time when it was possible to see behind the veil. He knew it. How could one fall out of love with that? xo
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