Gray goes with gold. Gray goes with all colors. I've done gray-and-red paintings, and gray and orange go so well together. It takes a long time to make gray because gray has a little bit of color in it.
When you read Chekhov, everything has an even gray tone. When you read 'Family Life', everything has an even white tone. It is almost like when you paint on paper, and you can see the paper through the paint.
The moon is essentially gray, no color; looks like plaster of Paris or sort of a grayish beach sand.
For me, the summer will be pure gray - mother-of-pearl gray, very pale gray. To me, this is the big statement for summer. Then we have light blue, light turquoise, lots of pink.
Remember the enemy of all painting is gray: a painting will almost always appear grayer than it is, on account of its oblique position under the light.
On the other side of the handrail, the hallway's gray marble floor looks as if we've climbed a stairway through the clouds.
Whatever I write, no matter how gray or dark the subject matter, it's still going to be a comic novel.
Gray has this crisp, neat-as-a-pin thing going for it, whereas black seems lazy and, at the same time, like it's trying too hard.
I like suits that are fitted. And I usually stick to grays, whites, and blacks.
