I step into the Art and Design gallery at the University of Hertfordshire and realise that I have the place to myself. I’ve come to see Colour Snap; it’s the perfect exhibition for such a drab January day and the impact of the colourful artwork instantly lifts my mood.

Liz West’s Autumn Lights (2016), the first installation, is an arrangement of aluminium frames containing coloured polyester film. The juxtaposition of colour tints clash, yet their luminous shine appeals and it’s a pleasure to wind my way through them. I feel like I’m on the set of a 1960s film and a group of lively dancers wearing colourful polo necks and hot pants are about to step out at me at any minute!

I like the way the artist has used the daylight to explore how colour can create an illusory ‘house of mirrors’ effect and can see my reflection from different angles. It feels urban and synthetic and I can imagine it in some foyer of a post-modern city building.

I move on to Rhys Coren’s Snap! (2016), a huge screen that alternates between pink, blue and white hues, with a large animated hand clicking its fingers over to one side. The snapping fingers and subtle colour changes are quite mesmerizing. It is calming and rhythmic. It almost feels as if it could also be interpreted as a commentary of how responsive technology can be, although I don’t feel this was the artist’s intention.

Love Motion (2018), by the same artist, is a sensitive five-minute animation set to music apparently inspired by Matisse’s dancing figures. I watch it from beginning to end. It begins with a paper cut circle with many colours passing through it, until it is eventually divided into two circles of two similar colours that morph into two figures dancing and kissing.

It is rather beautiful in its simplicity and I can see how, in the words of the artist, it is “..about a longing for oneness and love and togetherness…” I can feel how the two figures merge and are enjoying their own private universe.

As the animation unfolds, both figures are separated and revert back to their original blue circles. The artist is perhaps exploring existential themes of unity and separation within human relationships. I’m taken by the music and slightly hypnotized by the animation and find myself wishing Matisse’s figures could reunite once again.

I move onto Anna Ray’s Tassel (2018), a colourful texture installation displaying tassels of wool suspended on wire supports. Its large scale has captured my attention as it is also an exploration of embroidery and tapestry. The repeated colours and shapes create a solid pattern and it feels almost indigenous and reminiscent of Inca fabrics from Peru. I feel drawn to its sunny vitality of vibrant yellows, reds, burnt oranges and pinks. There is a noticeable absence of cool colours and I get a celebratory sense from it.

It is Jacob Dahlgren’s work that steals the show for me, however, appropriately entitled The Wonderful World of Abstraction (2006). Thousands of multi-coloured ribbons are suspended from a square metal frame. I can interact with it, walk into it, get lost and utterly immersed in its lightness of being and colour. The artist has captured a certain playfulness and I feel as if I have temporarily entered that eternal state of childhood as I zig-zag my way in and out of the endless mass of ribbons swishing around me.

By the time I’ve separated myself from it, I have almost forgotten where I am on this cold January morning. Although it has been a small-scale exhibition, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this immersive experience into luminous colour.

  • Marisa Laycock moved from south west London to St Albans in 2000. She enjoys sharing her experiences of living in the city.