What is black? Is it a color? An absence of color? The shade of mourning? The expression of luxury and taste? Choice and function? A way to stand out or a way to conceal?

Can it be all of those things at once?

I used to think black was nothing more than a color I wore to annoy my mother and then – later – a color I wore because I liked it, it was comfortable, and it made me invisible. It was armor of a sort that shielded my anxious self from the world. Also, I didn’t have to worry as much about matching it to itself (though there are, for sure, shades of black) or to the other colors I occasionally added as accents.

As I got older and stopped caring as much about what other people thought, black became less about rebellion and more about expression. It helped me express me – not as “dark” or Goth or part of any group in particular. I wore what I wanted to wear on my body and around my eyes and in my hair. I didn’t let trends dictate my personal aesthetic.

I’ve always been fascinated by what artists do with negative space in paintings, etchings, and photography. I’ve always been more drawn to modern art done in duochrome or grayscale, particularly black-and-white photography. When I used to shoot on film (yes, I’m that old), I almost always shot in black and white… and when I didn’t, I would still print my favorite images that way once I got into the lab. They always seemed more powerful to me – more raw, more real.

Something I hadn’t even considered before getting my hands on Phaidon’s Black, however, is the power of that singular shade in architecture.

Nor did I understand the sheer number of reasons an architect might choose to create a black building. In Japan, Black explains, shou sugi ban is the very careful and intentional charring of cedar planks that are then used to face a home. In the Scandinavian countries, black buildings are a nod to ancient functionality; structures were sealed against the harsh weather with tar. In London, where the wealthy settled in Georgian townhouses, painting exteriors black hid the muck and soot of industry.

Black can be used to make a building stand out. It can be used to ensure privacy. It can launch a library into the sky or hide a cabin the woods. It can make a Victorian in New York state the stuff of legend and a rest stop in Japan a destination in and of itself. It helps create a house in Scotland that gathers sunrise and sunset and one in Germany that tempers it to a soft glow.

I had no idea any of these possibilities existed until I dug into Phaidon’s Black. 

There’s  no way I’ll be able to see every edifice in this book in my lifetime, but there’s no chance I’ll be content without making the attempt. I think I’ve got a new quest to plan and a new travel game to get started on. Anyone want to join me?