A few petals plucked from a brilliantly coloured flower (a geranium, say) will give one's colour-box a great stimulus. Try to paint the petal; paint a number of petals, and notice their dazzling tints.
For purity, depth, richness of tint, the breast feathers of a brilliantly coloured bird (parrot, macaw, or parakeet) are perhaps unrivalled. Lay one down on a small sheet of white paper—an envelope—and try to paint the shape and tint. Try also to mix the tint and lay it on the paper with the burst of freshness that is the chief charm of the feather. Fill your brush generously full, and apply it quickly, lightly but firmly. When it is drying define (or draw) with a few sharp shadows and strokes the tiny stem, the fluff about the stem, the broad vane.
Leaves, too, lend a delightful variety, leaves with their gorgeous autumn raiment. Small children revel in painting their varied tints and shapes. Nature is very lavish with her bright colours and she uses the widest range of tints.
Again I must insist, at the risk of appearing wearisome—bear always in mind the general colour of the object. Which rule applies with equal force to a lemon or a landscape.
Of course you will make mistakes. We all do that. You may begin your drawing as a cold scheme of colour when it should be warm, or vice versa. It is quite possible that you may veer round and find yourself finishing in direct opposition to your starting-point; in which case your picture will be far from successful.
If you are painting from Nature and out of doors, you may be betrayed by Nature herself, for the weather has a habit of changing suddenly and so complicating matters.
But provided you do make up your mind and nothing prevents you from persevering in your choice, you will have accomplished something pleasing because you will have achieved a pure harmony in colour.
