Dammi i Colori: Reflections from a Colourful Street in LondonOn Colour, Language, and Community: Reflections from a street in London

[ENGLISH VERSION]

In Anri Sala’s Dammi i Colori, the artist invited us to witness how a city’s colour palette can become an act of resistance, joy, and renewal. The grey façades of post-Communist Tirana were painted in vivid tones — pink, turquoise, orange, cobalt — transforming not just the buildings but the city’s atmosphere. It was not simply about aesthetics. It was about expanding the city’s visual vocabulary — giving its inhabitants new ways to feel and to express where they lived.

I have been thinking about this while walking along my own street in West London — often called “the colourful building street.” Tourists flock here daily, eager to photograph themselves against cheerful, painted façades. Recently, a small controversy arose: three relatively new residents proposed that we, as a community, repaint our homes in neutral shades — grey, dark blue — to discourage tourists. A polite letter circulated, suggesting that too much colour attracted “unwanted attention” and even lowered property values.

But many of us who have lived here for years — decades — chose these colours carefully. Not for fashion, not for market value, but for everyday happiness. It took time, discussion, and a sense of shared spirit to create this palette — this quiet language of our street.

I am reminded of what linguist Helmut Gipper once wrote:

“Each natural language represents an open system, and therefore it is open to be changed by the speakers.”

So too with the colours of a street. The hues we live among form an evolving, collective vocabulary — shaped by time, memory, and community. Attempts to mute this palette — for reasons of market or convenience — risk silencing part of that communal voice.

There is an old question in linguistic anthropology: if a culture lacks a word for “green,” does it still see green? Or does language shape what is seen?

Perhaps the more important question is: what happens when we lose words — or colours — that once gave meaning and joy to our shared spaces?

Like Anri Sala’s painted Tirana, our colourful street speaks. It says: this is where people live, where neighbours greet each other, where the play of colour carries everyday life. I, for one, hope that voice continues to sing — bright and open to the sky.