True Colors | Concetta Antico

GROWING UP on the outskirts of Sydney, Concetta Antico was a peculiar child. Not for the way she foraged the natural world like her friends, nor for what she brought back—a dull crow’s feather, a lump of sandstone, a handful of blueberries. What set Concetta apart, as she turned these treasures over in her small hands, were the colors she saw in them. The black crow feather dazzled her eyes with violet and turquoise and deep flashes of brilliant emerald. The ridges of sandstone shimmered and skipped. Indigos, purples, grays, golds, and azures arrayed the blueberry skins, while their insides popped with yellows, greens, golds, limes, pinks, and violets.

At school, she painted the rough, playground fence with water from a metal pail and became immersed in the fantastical hues. The sun bounced off each droplet, bending its light into dancing prisms. Like her mother, she was an artist, painting rainbows. When her mother passed away a few years later, Concetta took refuge in nature. The clouds soothed her with their fragile lilac blues, slight blushes, and mercurial peaches. She found comfort in the thousands of fresh greens after a rain.