In the essay “A Winter Walk,” which predated the more famous essay “Walking” by a few years, Thoreau paid particular attention to the astonishing array of whites from fog to snow to frost to the crystals growing outward on threads of light. The fact that white is separately known. That it is its own wildness, entirely exterior, like all weather you notice is a version of an open room coming through the wind in prisms. White holds light in a suspended state, unleashing it later across a field of snow or a sheet of water at just the right angle to make the surface a solid, and on we go walking. Goethe’s Theory of Colors depicted each one as an intense zone of human activity overflowing its object into feeling there is a forest through which something white is flying through a wash of white, which is the presence of all colors until red, for instance, is needed for a bird or green for a world. Copyright @ 2014 by Cole Swensen. Used with permission of the author. |
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