While not heavily (nor officially) schooled in the principles of design, I do know through my self-study that Contrast is one of the four biggies (along with repetition, proximity, and alignment - see I really did read to the end of the book, LOL!) Why? Because Contrast provides us with that visual tension that creates interest, gives the senses a focal point and generally, Makes Life Interesting.
For those of you who are ready to click "Next Blog" because this is sounding like a boring lecture and you already get enough of those at work/school/home, read on, because this is Julie. It is. and you probably know that there might be something ridiculous and slightly embarrassing on the horizon (and no, that does NOT mean I am going to discuss my American Idol obsession, thankyouverymuchandbtwvotefordavidcookandjasoncastro...).
Anyway, back to Contrast.
I was feeling all sappy and gooey and reminiscent with wistful, gently melancholy memories of special romantic moments from the past; beautiful early morning vistas with soft prairie breezes (this, for those of you who dwell on a prairie, is the first ridiculous item, as prairie breezes tend to blow one into the next county more often than not), and emotional connections of the purest sort to every gift of nature and blessing of spring...
I woke up to a blessing of spring blizzard (albeit a beautiful one with big white fat snowflakes and the picturesque fluffed up (shivering) robin perched on the deck railing). My beloved and sadly missed husband is thinking up wayyyyy too many projects that he (erroneously) believes I might be interested in participating (they are all singularly unromantic and involve physical exertion of a sort which I can only refer to as "work") leaving almost no time for mental excursions into romance and handsome princes, let alone time to work on digital scrapbooking. The gifts of nature for this particular day were the highly indignant spider in my bathroom (who apparently was equally as appalled by the snowfall as I was, and being devoid of the ability to fluff like aforementioned robin, sought refuge inside, and being devoid of luck, chose my bathroom for such refuge, and as such found a permanent end to his suffering) and my dog's unfortunate disposal of a piece of grass he apparently found to eat yesterday on the rug by the door.
Oh Well. I remind myself that this is making my life interesting, and providing my senses with a focal point... :)
Here's part two of Colorado Spring. Sorry, there are no snowflakes included, LOL.