Noise from Velvet Underground loops in Warhol-Weiwei next door (‘Blue: Alchemy of a Colour’, NGV January 2016) grew so intrusive I left. I guess that’s why they call it the blues. What is it about blue-patterned porcelain and blue-dyed archipelago cloth instils tranquillity, best enjoyed in silence? Why does the Gallery seem not to know? Outside I wait in tree-lined sunlight for No. 1. The woman beside me texts. She wears light-blue sandals, toenails painted blue. Sapphire, I’d say. We share a silent minute under china-blue sky of St. Kilda Road, before she steps neatly onto ‘Glen Iris’ (No. 6).