Exploring Colour Perception and Theory

In the fall of 2024, while researching memory, I came across a line about colour in psychology that stopped me cold:

“Colour perception is the psychophysiological reality as distinguished from the physicochemical reality of colour.”

I immediately dove into those terms:
    - Psychophysiological — how our mind (psyche) and body (physiology) interact.
    - Physicochemical — the physical and chemical properties of colour itself.

I stared at my notes for days, trying to grasp why this mattered so much. When I later shared the quote with Travis, he suggested that it meant: our biases and life experiences actually shape how we see colour. We ended up talking at length, with one example being how his red stop sign is not the same red I perceive—an insight that plunged me into an even deeper rabbit hole I’m still exploring.

A passage I wrote in my journal weeks later says:
“To deepen my exploration of emotion and life’s complexities through colour, I need to relearn colour theory from my own psychophysiological perspective. I want to understand how choice of materials affects that perception.”

Peeking out of the rabbit hole to reflect, I’ve found myself reading everything I can find on colour: trying exercises from art textbooks, paying attention to articles and opinions on Pantone, discovering the artist Stuart Semple—whose work also explores colour and the legalities around it—and recently re-immersing myself in the Impressionist movement.

Colour Theory Exercises

Seurat, Van Gogh, Monet—their work has always called to me. I used to think admitting that was cliché, but when I stood before my first Van Gogh in person, I actually cried. The Art Gallery of Ontario had an Impressionism show a few years back and displayed the lesser-known Starry Night. I ended up crying over the painting alongside another patron. We gently encouraged each other that this was normal while we wept. Their colours speak directly to something inside me, and I realized: if I’m going to master colour, these artists will become my teachers.

What is it about their palettes that moves me, and how can I translate their magic into my own work?

Over approximately six months, I’ve created a few pieces inspired by, or intended to work through, various colour theory problems—often drawing from the techniques of Divisionist artists.
My current area of growth and experimentation is using the pure colour of materials—and their transparency or opacity—to influence one another. Sometimes I find success; sometimes it results in what I consider a muddy mess.

"lost", 6x8in, mixed media painting, 2024

"street lights in the dark blue" 8x8in, mixed media painting, 2025

This exploration has led me to additional practices as well. I currently document every colour of paint (watercolour, acrylic, gouache), marker (acrylic, ink, alcohol), pencil crayon (watercolour and water-resistant), and whatever else enters my studio. It’s not fully comprehensive yet (apparently, I hoard art materials), but it’s become an unexpected and fulfilling part of my practice.

A lot of the time when I paint, I’m reacting to what happens after the materials interact through the layers. But the more mud I make, the more I learn that this is just as much a science experiment as it is a piece of art. I’m learning which brands stick to paper and which ones can be easily moved. I’m learning that different brands of pencil crayons have different pigment loads that will—or won’t—resist watercolour. I’m learning how to create depth and colour fields based on which paint brands are more dominant. I’m learning how to push things forward or back through the opacity and transparency of the material itself.

I can’t claim expertise in anything yet. But I’ve found some success—enough to encourage me that I’m not just making a big mess. I’m very curious about what this work will look like in five, ten, or twenty years.

Some artists are so dedicated to their material and understand it so thoroughly that it feels like the material is a part of them. I have so much respect for those artists. Anyone who has dedicated their life to printmaking, for example, has this kind of deep understanding.

While I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever find a single material that speaks to me that way, I also remain curious about everything. I’ve even started watching documentaries about how materials are made and their historical origins.
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Did you know we used to crush up Egyptian mummies to create a paint called Mummy Brown? Wild, right? Ethically, there are so many issues with that practice—and luckily we now use synthetic pigments to avoid continuing such problematic histories. But what a strange and fascinating history there is out there to explore! ​

Current mixed media study of one of Monet's waterlily paintings.