'Colouring in-between the lines'- Part 4: 'Yellow' Earth

'All Geographers do is colour in'....'Geographer's love Crayola'...'It's all about the colouring pencils'....

 

In a five part series, exclusively for Geography with Dan, Daniel discusses how colour should be treated seriously within the subject. Each week, he selects a colour that helps to shape the planet we live on today, and studies that colour from a distinctively geographical perspective.

 

This week, he focuses on all things Yellow and argues that this colour is instrumental for a subject such as Geography.

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This series over the last few weeks has sought to convince those who consider Geography to be 'that subject where you learn about cities and places', that it is instead, deeply multifaceted. For too long, Geography has been seen as a subject that takes place within the confines of the classroom; that its content is constructed around the building blocks of the national curriculum. I have argued in the past, and will persist here that Geography should not be treated as an academic discipline, but a subconscious approach to the planet in which we inhabit; the way in which humans engage with the world in their everyday lives. Our identities are composed in and as a result of different places; the subtle choices we make in terms of the way we perform ourselves all have distinct relationships back to our position in the world. Geography, therefore, is that fluid matrix in between other subjects; the relations between History and Chemistry, or between Psychology and Art can be explained through a geographical methodology.

It's a subject that at the very least stretches beyond cartography: the construction of maps. We study the world everyday; when we travel to work, when we gaze out of the office window, on our way back home. Parked in a rush hour can excite the imagination; we begin to think about a forthcoming holiday or one just past. We are edging a few inches a minute along a seemingly incessant motorway, but in our imagination, we are someplace else. Sometimes, and perhaps the gift of the human mind, is the fact that we can imagine a place in the finest of detail, even if we have never physically been there. Our emotions, thoughts and feelings- our human imagination- form a substantial element in our understanding of our planet.

An appreciation of colour within our world is, similarly, one that you'll never find within a geography textbook, but at the same time, so emphatically important in the way we shape meanings about the planet on which we live. Certain colours, such as those already discussed in this series, are more obviously geographical; green and blue, perhaps, fall into this category. Other colours such as red are less palpable, but still uphold symbology within the world; we still apply meanings to them. Most of us would admit to having a favourite colour; a tint we would select, if ever one had to be saved. For me, it's yellow. There's nothing distinctly geographical about my love for the colour yellow; it's a vibrant colour, almost electric in its luminosity and has the amazing capacity to transform my mood from a morose despondency to one of bliss and contentment. In some ways, however, it's entirely geographical. The fact that a certain place, landscape or landmark, can transform someone's emotions around is testament to the effect that the planet can have on us.

Perhaps why I prefer yellow so much is the scarcity of the colour in our landscape. It isn't one that you naturally pass everyday; it isn't as universally widespread as, perhaps, green is. (Another name for a village green is a common after all). The infrequency of yellow in our lives keeps it a refreshing shade and continues to provoke a bout of delight within me, whenever I catch sight of it.

From where I grew up- the Norfolk countryside- patches of the landscape are annually knitted with a strong yellow, when farmers grow rapeseed. Every so often, the monotonous green that flourishes so much through our county's farmland, is punctuated by an arresting glow of yellow; it's flamboyancy almost yelling out at you. (No wonder, because after all: half of the word 'yellow' is 'yell').  However pulsating a field of yellow is to the passer-by, there's a simultaneous serenity enwrapped within. If you take a deckchair and park yourself beside a field of Rapeseed, you'll discover that although the colour is arresting, the field symbolises one of the last areas of tranquillity; a site not yet conquered by the hand of man. An area yet to be vanquished by the property developer. Compared to any urban jungle, this is one of the final segments of our country's jigsaw where one can still find equanimity; one of the few spots to soak up stillness.

If you have ever been lucky enough to grow Daffodils in your garden, you will equally know about how the arrival of those delicate yellow petals in Spring gives off a sense of anticipation for the year ahead. The blossoming of Daffs' mark a conclusion in what always seems an endless winter. In this way, yellow inspires a slightly different dish of emotions inside us;  yellow breathes prospect and optimism into us, especially when the mornings are still damp and ominous. Note with me how a colour such as yellow within our landscape can even oppress the seasons; the early stages of Spring maybe relatively dull, but combating such a mood is the vivid zing of yellowness.

 

For many of us, however (and particularly at present), yellowness manifests itself in something more alluring than a bed of Daffs' or a field of Rapeseed. Indeed, for millions of us, the promise of yellow sands and warm transparent waters is something that draws us to places far away.  As attractive and botanically interesting pebble-based beaches can sometimes prove to be, there's just that element missing from them; that critical yellowness which denotes a sandy beach and grants families with an infinite array of possibles when it comes to beach activities. From the classic sandcastle modelling, to Frisbee and other sport-related pursuits exercised across the bounty of beaches around the globe, our coastline environment is extremely important for the economy. Perhaps, the elemental placing of golden/yellow sands and turquoise/blue waters together is the secret to the beach's popularity. Here, however, yellow isn't about the anticipation necessarily which transpires from the Daffodils, neither is it a source of surprise like the Rapeseed. The yellowness, alternatively, that positively oozes from our sandy beaches brings together a whole cauldron of sentiments. For me, the beach reminds me of holidays from yesteryear, but also of summers yet to come. It also indicates a place of unreserved relaxation; a space of contemplation. A paradise, I suppose. There's little in the way of questions, therefore, why yellow seems to be my number one colour.