Harvesting Hues
Turning Your Photographs into Palettes
We walk past color every day — rust spots on a car, moss covered tree trunks, sun soaked pebbles. When we slow down enough to collect it, color can become both memory and muse.
Letting our eyes linger a little longer lets us see past the ordinary and the familiar. Worlds of new textures and intriguing hues reveal themselves, just waiting to be seen.
Since I can remember, I’ve been drawn to the colors that live in-between places like that mixing of the tide and shore. Not quite blue. Not quite tan. Just something else.
What do you call a color like that?
And once you’ve named it… what might it become?
One of my favorite creative prompts is pulling hues from the photos I’ve taken and turning them into color palettes — my own little memory markers and sparks of inspiration.
Sometimes I use them to inspire a larger piece of art. Other times, they’re just small acts of noticing — tiny moments that don’t need to become anything else. That’s enough. A few minutes to create and breathe.
In this post, I’m sharing a few palettes I’ve pulled from my travel photos and ordinary days and showing what they’ve turned into. Hopefully you’ll feel inspired to slow down enough to transform your memories into keepsakes.
Kansas City, Missouri
“Steel Petals”
The photo: A quick click from an impromptu trip to Kansas City, taken just as we walked past the Kauffman Center right before sunset. The light was catching the curves of the building in a way I couldn’t ignore — so sleek!
The palette: I pulled these colors months later as a memory marker, just one of the ways I like to honor moments that mean a lot to me. Not every piece needs a big story. Sometimes it’s just, “Now I can remember how that felt.”
The artwork: Inspired by the stainless facade, I wanted to impart something of the industrial feel into these flowers. So, tiny rivet points appeared in their shadow. I only used two colors from the palette. Does that matter? Not at all. Sometimes just starting is the point. Pick what calls to you and begin. The rest will unfold.
Bentonville, Arkansas
“Coffee by Glass”
Two completely unrelated things: a glass-blown sculpture at Crystal Bridges… and a coffee flight that made my heart race.
The only thing connecting these photos is color: iced blue, dark roast, milk foam, warm maple wood. Chaos and comfort, side by side — just how I felt when I realized caffeine and I are no longer friends.
I drew this little sketch after realizing there would be no more coffee for me. A silly goodbye to colors I really shouldn’t sip again.
Using a palette doesn’t require strict adherence to rules. The colors I used in my sticker aren’t all seen in the swatches, but they live in-between the other colors. If reading between the lines is allowed in literature and life, then I think drawing between the shades should be too.
Atlanta, Georgia
“The River’s Path”
It was truly HOT-lanta the day I took this photo — the midday heat was really pressing in. With only one day left in Georgia, there was only one thing left on my list… the gardens. Just one problem. It was August and I melt in the heat. But, I worked up the gumption and wandered through the botanical gardens anyway, and oh wow, I’m glad I did. The garden was overwhelming in the best way — lush and humming with energy (and humidity).
There was a little bridge tucked into one of the greenhouses and I stopped for it. I always seem to take pictures of bridges. They feel like the start of a grand story… as if some great adventure could begin, if only you were paying attention.
When I made this palette, I loved how many shades of green were packed into that one frame. Chartreuse, moss, ivy, black-green all anchored by the rich soil tones and soft daylight.
I wanted this piece to feel like a page from a well-loved fantasy book—something between Tolkien and childhood memories. The stag is always what I imagine at the beginning of a fantasy. Something waiting to brighten the shadows. My symbol of hope.
Omaha, Nebraska
“Floral Abstraction”
These potatoes were a farmers market find. Purple and gold and beautiful. I quickly roasted them—lemon, herbs, a bit of olive oil—and they were gone almost as fast as they came out. But I snapped a photo before the tray disappeared. The colors were too good to forget.
This piece was just playing around, an experiment in abstract, one of my favorite genres. I started with three colors I liked together and let them move and overlap. A fourth color snuck in during the shifting and I thought it fit.
The lined florals came about when I wasn’t ready to stop drawing. Adding small details, layering color into the centers. Just letting the shapes unfold.
Everyone should have time like that with art.
Unstructured — surprising — full of deep breaths.
Egg Harbor, Wisconsin
“Sumac Waxwings”
This one’s different from the others. Most of the time it takes me months (or a few years) before I turn some of these photos into their own palettes. It’s a way of reliving moments that have already passed. But this photo? It’s the only one (so far) I’ve taken because of a moment I’d just had.
I’m a birder. A bad one. I always seem to miss the birds. But that day, I finally saw them. My first Cedar Waxwings. Smooth and sleek and smug about their looks. I’d been trying to find these suckers for so long.
The photo came from the same area I spotted them. I wasn’t quick enough back then to photograph the Waxwings themselves—so I looked for the light, the red sumac and the bay beyond the branches. It was part of the same moment and I wanted these two pieces to reflect the moment together.
The art style here mimics paper cut art: sharp edges, color-blocked shadows. I love how bold it lets everything be. It felt like the right way to remember a smug little bird that took so long to find.
Current life list: 121.
At the time? Maybe 30. And this was the one I’d been waiting for.
Columbia, South Carolina
“Studiously Purple”
I intended this photo to be a color study. The purples on that fern were so varied and I was trying to capture that spectrum of a single color within that one plant. That’s all I thought I was getting.
Then later, I zoomed in closer. There it was — a spider! Bright green with pink legs. Absolutely invisible to me in the moment, yet frighteningly unmissable.
I have no idea how I got that close without noticing. It still makes my skin crawl. And yes, you’re right, I religiously check for spiders now.
The piece I ended up making from this palette is abstract and strange. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done digitally. The shapes are unfamiliar but comforting. The black lines might be spider legs, or they might not. I didn’t plan it. But now I wonder... and I did leave the green of the spider out on purpose. Maybe from spite.
Collecting Color & How I Do It
Everything you’ve seen in this post was built in Procreate — a $12.99 app that turns any tablet into a full art studio. That’s not an ad (you won’t ever find those here). It’s just the truth.
I think everyone should have a space like this: portable, pressure free and permanent. You buy it once and it’s yours. No subscriptions. No catch.
It takes surprisingly little time to learn, and the tools grow with you. Whether you’re making full illustrations or just pulling colors from a photo you love. This tool gives you the freedom to try something new without needing to know where it’s going or having to go buy new supplies.
That’s the whole point of this post. Creating and enjoying.
A palette doesn’t have to end in a masterpiece to be worthwhile. Sometimes it leads to incredible illustrations. Other times, to total flops. But even then — bad art can still be good art.
If it brings joy or helps you to keep creating and growing, that’s reason enough. And sometimes, a palette doesn’t need to lead anywhere at all. It can simply exist. A preserved moment. A story in color. The mood of a day.
You can hang them as art and grow your own collection.
Print them as postcards and mail that memory to someone you love.
Let it inspire a seasonal menu — how could you cook in those colors?
A starting point for journaling, describing each color and mood.
Or keep them tucked away to look at when the seasons change and you want to remember how the light felt in July.
Sometimes, a palette can be just what it is — something that made you happy.
Something that made you stop and notice.
Something that helped you remember.
There are so many different layouts to use and your imagination is the limit.
For me, building palettes helped me feel like an artist—even when I was still just pretending to be one.
