Irises are Blue

...or should that be Irii...and purple? While I was waiting for the red roses to dry yesterday, I painted this iris that I had begged from an arrangement. Iris was my grandmother's name - such an old-fashioned, charming name. While I love them, I marvel at their colour scheme - they must epitomise the theory that nothing in nature clashes! It must be the exact shade and proportions of the colours to each other that allow these complementaries to sing together so well. I vividly (an accurate word!) remember a substitute teacher that came to look after my Standard 3 class when I was 10 years old. She was resplendant in mauve and yellow alternating from head to toe - including gloves and hat and neckscarf and stockings and yellow hair. I felt quite nauseous, but couldn't take my eyes off her as she preened and paraded at the front of the class, perhaps thinking that these scruffy little girls were enraptured at the glamour and sophistication of her outfit. I think it was the first time I thought about what I didn't want to look like when I grew up!
Anyway, I went back to my iris today to paint it again, and the edges had curled and turned brown - the result of a too hot car trip home - so here is the wilted version...