Cerulean Blue Dreams

"Cerulean Blue Dreams" Watercolor & Ink © 2022 Linnie Aikens Lindsay

During the early 60’s we lived in the flat strip of land between the two hilly, wealthy neighborhoods of Los Feliz and Silverlake, the top of which stood each of my grandparents’ big houses—one atop the Silverlake Hills and the other atop the Los Feliz Hills. Ours, however, as often is with young families where parents are barely beyond teenage years, was in the lowly valley between them, in a non-descript rectangular stucco bungalow next door to a look-alike bungalow painted a bright cerulean blue.  I was fascinated with wonder that anyone would paint a house that color!  Purple and yellow pansies waved their faces between the two houses and danced like happy members of a solstice parade, under baskets of fuchsias that contributed to an exotic, almost carnival feel. 

An East Indian family lived there, with their beautiful melodic accents.  Their daughter, Miriam, was my age and a classmate at Micheltorena Street School.  I was in awe of her, with her pretty dark skin and long, wavy jet-black hair. This was my first contact with an East Indian family, which only added to the mystique of the cerulean blue house. Up until then, “indians” were both what we now more appropriately call Native Americans and (East) Indians.  All I knew of this culture then had been learned from movies on our black and white TV. As I had such limited knowledge, a vivid imagination, and color was and is my favorite thing in the world then and now, I had to create my own world.  Naptime daydreams provided the studio.

  I would daydream of the exotic world that must be through their front door. Likely, it was those early grainy T.V. depictions of the culture that in informed my imagination in this case, that same imagination filling in the color in my mind’s eye. I imagined silk drapes billowing through their windows, and inside, more silk drapes of rich and vibrant colors laced with silver thread and teeny tiny mirrors, tinkly metallic music of small brass bells, and q spicy fragrance wafting about over a million velvet and silk pillows covering the floors!  I wondered if they had a cobra snake in a basket that they would sing to attendance at celebrations, whether it had a name, and if it was considered a family member.  I envisioned them eating all their meals with their hands while sitting on the floor around a low table.  I wondered what their food tasted like and what songs they sang. Remember, I was six and it was 1965; we were culturally still in a vacuum then.

  The mystery of the cerulean blue house was my escape, for it fueled my dreams of far off lands and adventure.  I don’t remember going inside, but that wasn’t what mattered.  I had my day dreams.  Our houses don’t exist anymore, long since demolished during a Silverlake revitalization. Still, the cerulean blue house is iconic in my history as a symbol of my earliest understanding that people were not all the same color, or that our culture was influenced by many cultures in truth.  You may wonder where I got the name “cerulean”.  It actually came much later, after I was already an artist. Looking back on that time, “cerulean blue house” seemed the fitting name of Miriam’s house— Cerulean, the color of a clear tropical sky reflected in the ocean around an island.  Such was the feeling I had given my first lure of travel to far off lands.

Later, when I finally got the nerve to tell Miriam of how I would dream about their life in the cerulean blue house, she would laugh merrily and say, “Linnie, we ate on plates with a fork and knife, just like you!”  She winked about the cobra though. 

Although we’d developed our own circle of friends through junior and senior high, there still remained a connection, and several decades later we were to discover that we’d both made careers in education. I guess she’d had quite an imagination too!  All teachers need to have that inner child close by to do what they do!

            I am happy that “East Indians” are now just called Indians in the 2020’s, and the world is afforded an opportunity to share in their rich culture of festive textiles, beautiful architecture and aromatic foods, just to name a few.  In fact, these elements of the traditional Indian culture are ones I often choose to enrich my own personal life as I gravitate to the vibrant colors and designs of Indian fabrics and furniture, and my taste buds water for the equally vibrant aromas and flavors of Indian cuisine, so much so that they are the only foods I have put extra effort into learning to cook.

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Note: All artwork, stories and observations posted within should be credited to the author, Linnie Aikens Lindsay (unless cited in the post). Permission is required for any use of my words or artwork. Taken from my work, "My Life As Wallpaper Art".