A practical example of the complications of color:
In my early post-academic years, I used to work in the field as a contract archaeologist. Even on largely monocultural crews, definitions of color terms were actually a serious practical problem as different diggers were apt to classify the colors of artifacts and soils by different folk terms if left unaided; to solve this, we used the
Munsell color system to strictly regulate what color terms could be used in reports. The Munsell categorizations are derived from the properties of nature, not from perception, and you generally need the chart in hand in order to use the terms - your brain is incapable of making the color gradations it delineates without the benefit of comparative types. Ie., you need a copy of the chart to compare the color of the soil to the nearest defined swatch in the Munsell handbook. No one can actually perceive just by looking what swatch a color belongs to, you more or less need to be looking directly at a copy of the chart, and there are still apt to be physiological variations and therefore disagreements between different diggers, even very experienced ones. People who are in the field for a while can make better guesses, but not perfectly, or consistently with respect to another perceiver.
All of which just proves the rule.
I have red/green color blindness. That typically means (and is the case with me) that I have difficulties discerning subtle changes in hue. As you noted about indigo and navy, I would tend to see them as navy and black or the like. It's only when I put something I think is black next to something I already know to be black that my system corrects itself and I can discern the differences.
I did not learn of this until I was eight years old in a science museum where they had the Ishihara "hidden digit" test and I couldn't see the number 8 in one of the red/green slides. My family thought I was just joking, but when I kept insisting that there was no number--that, in fact,
they were the ones joking--it got exponentially worse to the point where I had a minor panic attack and thought the world was ending. How could they all see what wasn't there for me?
And the answer is, of course, that I have some sort of minor malfunction in my optical processing unit. It's measurable, easily identified and overwhelmingly confirmed.
So, I have a choice to make. I can either ignore this and simply say, "The colors are ONLY in my head, so there is no number 8 in that slide, wee, how fun, I'm free to just make up any shit I want and believe any damn thing I want" or, I can say, "Evidently, I have a malfunctioning optical processing unit and need to be aware of that going forward, as it may somehow cause me or my loved ones some sort of harm, possibly grave, so what does that entail for me and everyone else? That we live in an objective universe?"
The objective condition, of course, never changes, no matter which choice I make. The number 8 is in that slide and it is "telling" me that, but what's happening is a shortcircuit of some kind on my end; not that the number 8 is not, in fact, on that slide (or "telling" me that).
So, yes, one
could (i.e., has the license to) think of one's self as a copy (indeed, that's exactly what it is; an animated model), but one should not ALSO throw out the fact that a model requires something objective for it to model. This is where the entire structure of our epistemology resides; inference.
Which, once again, is what it would mean if someone were to say that color exists ONLY in one's head. And, again, the reason that's imperative to keep pointing out is because there are real world consequences for slipping down that solipsistic slope.
You can do it, of course. It's easily done. VERY easily done. So easily done in fact that one might wonder why do it? Its outcome is predetermined. It's just like saying, "Goddidit," in fact.
The far more difficult task is to be present and to try to reconcile the objective with the subjective and why it all is. If all you do is affirm the subjective, however, you're just Pinocchio rubbing his wood together.