Palette A1

Blossoms Shanghai (locked)

Locked palette — saturated burnt amber + crimson on warm-black, after Wong Kar-wai's Blossoms Shanghai.

  • #0f0704bg
  • #f3e8d4fg
  • #c2ad90soft
  • #c43820accent
N°4 — Lisbon on Film

Some moments deserve to be kept.

For commissions, collaborations, or to simply say hello.

Color, in this practice, is never decoration. It's the membrane between the moment and the memory of it — the warm cast of a tungsten bulb at four in the morning, the cold blue of the subway tile, the green that only happens at the edge of a Brooklyn summer.

wanlivisuals@gmail.com
Palette A3

Sepia Hotel

Warm dark with amber accent. A vintage paperback / lobby-at-dusk feel.

  • #1a130bbg
  • #efe1c7fg
  • #b39d7esoft
  • #b8742daccent
N°4 — Lisbon on Film

Some moments deserve to be kept.

For commissions, collaborations, or to simply say hello.

Color, in this practice, is never decoration. It's the membrane between the moment and the memory of it — the warm cast of a tungsten bulb at four in the morning, the cold blue of the subway tile, the green that only happens at the edge of a Brooklyn summer.

wanlivisuals@gmail.com
Palette B1

Mood for Love

Cream + crimson. In the Mood for Love daytime register — gallery-editorial.

  • #f3ece1bg
  • #1a1310fg
  • #6e5d4asoft
  • #842f24accent
N°4 — Lisbon on Film

Some moments deserve to be kept.

For commissions, collaborations, or to simply say hello.

Color, in this practice, is never decoration. It's the membrane between the moment and the memory of it — the warm cast of a tungsten bulb at four in the morning, the cold blue of the subway tile, the green that only happens at the edge of a Brooklyn summer.

wanlivisuals@gmail.com
Palette B2

Red Pavilion

Warm blush cream + bright red. Closest to the Red Pavilion aesthetic.

  • #fff0f0bg
  • #1f1a17fg
  • #8a7e72soft
  • #db3f40accent
N°4 — Lisbon on Film

Some moments deserve to be kept.

For commissions, collaborations, or to simply say hello.

Color, in this practice, is never decoration. It's the membrane between the moment and the memory of it — the warm cast of a tungsten bulb at four in the morning, the cold blue of the subway tile, the green that only happens at the edge of a Brooklyn summer.

wanlivisuals@gmail.com