inconsolable immobility

'Grey is void of resonance,' says Kandinsky, 'an inconsolable immobility.'
(jarman - chroma, a book of color p51)

jarman's colour book which i started to read in order to understand my ink-colourobsession a little more. maybe this has to do with the photographer in me. but even there i tend to avoid strong colours as well...

why grey, it's not just grey. but it tends to be those sort of - grey isn't a proper colour - non colours. Grey surrounds us and we ignore it. Jarman p53

the grey in literature.... & philosophy, of course, hegel:
When philosophy paints its grey in grey, one form of life has become old, and by means of grey it cannot be rejuvenated, but only known. The owl of Minerva, takes its flight only when the shades of night are gathering.

the lenau poem, an overgrey field (übers übergraute Feld), grey fingers -- a scream, pain, a curse inside an open book it says in the poem.
verhalen die ik horen kan maar nooit van binnen zie. p145
(stories that i can hear to but of whom i never see the inside. -- Jellema)

The detuned television flickers grey, waiting to be flooded with colour, waiting for the image. Grey has no image, is a shrinking violet, shy and indecisive, caught in the shadows almost unnoticed. You can travel from it to black or white. Neutral, it doesn't shout its presence. Unlike red, which creates noise on video, this detuned grey is a source of light, contradicting Wittgcnstcin's remark that 'Whatever looks luminous does not look grey'.
-- Jarman p51

...that he loves that grey calm of the misty twilight that steals along the windows on autumn and early winter evenings and shuts out all soulless sounds as with
velvet curtains
-- Nietzsche

Le calme. Le gris. Des remous aucun. Quelque chose doit être cassé dans la mécanique mais rien ne transparaît. La pendule est sur la cheminée, les aiguilles marquent l'heure. 

Quelqu'un dans la pièce froide viendrait d'entrer, la maison était fermée, c'était l'hiver. 

Le gris. Le calme. Se serait assis devant la table. Transi de froid, jusqu'à la tombée de la nuit. 

 Pinget -- Passacaglia

THROUGH GREY WINDOW PANES. - Is what you see through this window of the world so beautiful that you do not wish to look through any other window -- ay, and even try to prevent others from so doing? 
-- Nietzsche