When you walk into the gallery, you might assume that the “blue” on a canvas is the same blue for everyone standing around you. But the truth is far more fascinating: no two people actually see color in exactly the same way. In art school we all looked at the same color chart and were asked to count how many color variations we could see. Some saw hundreds and others may fifty. Since then, I've always found it interesting to think about the idea that people are viewing my art in their on unique way.
I think most of us know that color itself is simply light waves bouncing off a surface, measured in nanometers (ok maybe not the nanometers part).
Here's how it works according to the internet: "Our eyes catch these wavelengths with three main types of light-sensing cells in the retina, called cones. They roughly correspond to red, green, and blue. The brain then interprets and blends those signals into what we call “color.” But here’s where it gets interesting: not everyone’s cones are tuned the same way, and even small differences can change how we experience color.
A Spectrum of Perception
Studies have shown that among people with so-called “normal” vision, there’s a surprising amount of variation. Some people can distinguish incredibly fine differences between shades, while others may see two colors as virtually identical. Tests like the Farnsworth–Munsell 100 Hue test (essentially a very fancy paint-chip puzzle) demonstrate just how wide that range can be.
Scientists also talk about something called MacAdam ellipses, which map the boundaries of just-noticeable differences in color. These boundaries aren’t the same across the spectrum — in some ranges of color, we’re extremely sensitive to slight shifts, and in others we’re much less precise. The size and shape of these “just noticeable” zones also vary between individuals.
In other words, what looks like “exactly the same green” to you might appear as two distinct shades to the person next to you.
When Color Differences Become More Pronounced
For some people, differences in perception are more than subtle. About 8% of men and 0.5% of women of Northern European descent are born with color vision deficiency — more commonly known as color blindness. The most frequent type is red-green color blindness, where reds, greens, and browns blur together. Less common forms affect blue-yellow distinctions, and in rare cases, people see the world almost entirely in shades of gray.
What’s remarkable is how adaptable the human brain can be. Many color-blind individuals navigate the world with very little trouble, often learning to rely on brightness, texture, or context to make up for what they don’t see. Some even report noticing subtleties in patterns and contrast that those with “normal” vision miss."
The Gallery Experience
Ok, back to the gallery. All of this means that when someone stands in front of a painting, they’re not just seeing the work — they’re seeing it through the unique lens of their own biology. The rich crimson that feels dramatic to one person may read softer to another. A subtle shift from purple to magenta might go completely unnoticed by some, yet pop vividly for others.
That’s part of what makes sharing art so powerful. A gallery isn’t a room full of static objects; it’s a space where hundreds of individual experiences are happening simultaneously.
So next time you’re in the gallery, pause for a moment. Notice the colors, and remember: what you see is yours alone. The person beside you is experiencing the same artwork in a completely different way — and that’s a beautiful reminder that art is never universal, but always personal.
**A little tangent that i find interesting but there's someone called a tetrachromat who can see a 100 million colors instead of the 1 million most of us see. They have a forth type of cone cell in their eyes. I've never met anyone but I bet they would be an incredible artist.
