Yellow: My Firefly in a Bottle Color

“I remember being visually arrested by what seemed like a wave of bright chrome yellow, back-lit by my beloved Greek blue and lit by a sun so bright that I had to squint back at it. Piles of yellow fishing nets in need of spreading out and purging of ocean debris, shells, seaweed, and anything else unwelcome (considering the necessity of throwing those nets right back into the Aegean the next morning to catch the fish harvest of the new day).”—Chiara-Sophia Coyle

Clicks & Relativity

By Chiara-Sophia Coyle

SONOMA California—(Hubris)—1 July 2023—My first memory of seeing something the color of yellow goes back a few decades, and then some, to Mykonian fishing nets. 

I remember being visually arrested by what seemed like a wave of bright chrome yellow, back-lit by my beloved Greek blue and lit by a sun so bright that I had to squint back at it. Piles of yellow fishing nets in need of spreading out and purging of ocean debris, shells, seaweed, and anything else unwelcome (considering the necessity of throwing those nets right back into the Aegean the next morning to catch the fish harvest of the new day). 

Fishermen in simple clothing that shielded them from the searing sun, big straw hats with strings under the chin to ensure they didn’t blow away when the meltemi wind materialized, expected, because men of sea always know what weather’s coming. 

It was a hard life, but I can still hear the fishermen’s easy banter and laughter as they stitched the hard labor of cleaning their nets into their daily routine. 

But I digress into wistfulness . . . .

My second memory of yellow is associated with the Cycladic spring. This also goes back to my childhood. On my island, in the countryside, a super-bloom of wildflowers occurred on an annual basis, no matter how barren the earth and regardless of the amount of rain that had fallen the previous winter. 

The spring grass that, as young children we picked and chewed, was yellow, and we so enjoyed its indescribable sourness that we frequently got sick to our stomachs. We called these greens (yellows, really) xidakia which, very loosely, translates to vinegary, acidic. Their bright little yellow flowers were a sign of the season ahead, a promise of summer and beach days, swimming, being carefree, basking. It’s no surprise of course that my feelings were enhanced since yellow is all about joy and optimism (if you subscribe to color psychology).

As a photographer, yellow has always beckoned me irresistibly. Is it because of my early island memories, or is it because we all feel exuberant when a burst of yellow spills into our days? I guess it’s a largely personal matter. But yellow, for whatever reasons, simply energizes and stimulates me; puts a smile on my face. And I simply ignore the fact that it is labeled as a tricky hue to photograph. 

Yellow harks back to innocence, for me, a time when I believed all would be right in this universe.

Over the years I have sought it out in all forms—abstract, rust, reflections, and nature. Like my firefly in life’s bottle. 

As I was riffling* through pictures taken throughout the years to select images for this portfolio of yellow, I was of course not surprised to see how many of them reflect my long relationship to Greece. And if yellow is your color today (or always) and you want to see even more of it, let me know! Trust me, it was a challenging task of elimination to narrow this group down to a few pages of images! There are many, many, many more.

Editor’s Note: *In the last paragraph of this column, I had to choose between “rifling through” and “riffling through,” a First World Problem if ever there was one. However, for those interested, go here for further Rabbit-Hole diversion.