Introduction
In her captivating book "Color," Victoria Finlay takes readers on a fascinating journey through the history and cultural significance of various colors. From the earliest pigments used by our ancestors to the complex dyes of modern times, Finlay explores the stories behind the hues that surround us every day. This book reveals that the colors we often take for granted have rich, complex, and sometimes dangerous histories.
The Vibrant World of Color
Most of us don't give much thought to the origins of the colors we see in our daily lives. We admire the red of a cherry lollipop or the vivid hues in a painting without considering the intricate processes and sometimes surprising ingredients that go into creating these colors. However, as Finlay reveals, the world of color is full of unexpected twists and turns.
Did you know, for instance, that one of the most common ingredients in red dyes is the blood of thousands of insects? Or that Napoleon's death might be linked to a poison found in green paint? These are just a few examples of the fascinating stories that lie behind the colors we see every day.
Finlay's book delves into the power, politics, and even death associated with the creation and use of various colors throughout history. From the luscious hues we admire on each other's lips to the vivid shades artists roll onto canvases, each color has its own complex and often surprising backstory.
Ochre: The First Paint
Our color journey begins with ochre, the earliest known paint color used by humans. If you've ever seen images of prehistoric cave paintings, such as those found at Lascaux or Altamira, you may have noticed their limited color palette. This is because ochre was the primary pigment available to these ancient artists.
Ochre is a naturally occurring pigment that ranges in color from earthy brown to yellow to red, depending on the type of iron oxide present. It was discovered and used long before other types of paint were invented or widely circulated, making it a cherished and historically significant color.
The Roman encyclopedist Pliny the Elder wrote that the rocks around Sinope on the Black Sea were the best source for ochre. However, this pigment can be found in many regions around the world. Native peoples of North America, for example, used ochre on their skin, believing it protected them from evil spirits. It also had practical uses, repelling flying insects in summer and protecting skin from harsh winter winds.
Interestingly, the use of ochre by Native Americans may have led to the derogatory terms "red Indians" or "redskins" used by white colonists. This example shows how the use of color can have far-reaching cultural and social impacts.
Ochre continues to play a significant role in modern aboriginal art, particularly in Australia. In Alice Springs, Northern Australia, many Aboriginal artists still work with ochre, especially those from the Central Desert Region. Their paintings often feature mystical titles like "Two Snakes Dreaming" and use patterns of dots, waves, and circles, each carrying significant meaning. For instance, circles might represent water holes in the desert, ovals could symbolize shields, and wavy lines might depict people sitting around a fire.
The enduring use of ochre from prehistoric times to the present day demonstrates its importance in human artistic expression and cultural practices. It serves as a reminder that even the most basic colors can carry deep meaning and historical significance.
The Deadly White
Moving from the earthy tones of ochre, we come to the color white – a shade that has a surprisingly dark history. Throughout the ages, various substances have been used to create white paint, including chalk, fossilized sea creatures, and rice. However, none of these were as effective – or as deadly – as lead white.
European artists in the 16th and 17th centuries were particularly fond of lead white. Its pure color made it perfect for highlighting details, such as the reflection on a silver jar or the glimmer in someone's eye. The Dutch School, which included renowned artists like Vermeer and Rembrandt, especially favored this pigment.
The dangers of lead white were known even in ancient times. Pliny the Elder wrote that if swallowed, it could be fatal. However, it took many centuries and numerous lead-related deaths before people realized that it could also be absorbed through the skin. The manufacturing process was equally hazardous, with artisans inhaling toxic lead particles.
Despite these known risks, the popularity of lead white paint persisted. It was so highly regarded that controlling its use proved challenging. In fact, it wasn't until 1978 that lead white was finally banned in the United States.
The production process for lead white was far from pleasant and had remained largely unchanged since Roman times. Lead shavings were added to bowls of vinegar, creating a chemical reaction that produced lead carbonate – the basis for lead white paint. During the Renaissance, Dutch manufacturers discovered that surrounding the vinegar bowls with cow manure optimized the process. The heat from the manure accelerated the chemical reaction, producing more white lead faster.
It's hard to believe that this disgusting and deadly paint was considered irreplaceable for so long. This story serves as a stark reminder of how the pursuit of beauty and artistic perfection can sometimes come at a terrible cost to human health and safety.
The Fading Red
Our next stop on the color journey is red, specifically a pigment called carmine. This vibrant red has a peculiar characteristic – it's incredibly powerful when first applied to a canvas but gradually fades over time.
This quality is perfectly illustrated by the work of the great English landscape painter Joseph Mallord William Turner. His 1835 piece "Waves Breaking Against the Wind" now depicts a rather unsettling gray sunset. However, this wasn't Turner's original vision. He had used bright red carmine paint, which has lost its luster over the years.
Interestingly, Turner was well aware of carmine's tendency to fade. Records of his exchanges with paint supplier William Winsor show that Winsor tried to convince Turner to use more durable pigments. But Turner was more interested in the immediate impact of the vibrant, if transitory, carmine red.
Turner's choice aligns perfectly with his subject matter. After all, what could be more fleeting and changeable than nature itself? The impermanence of the color seems to echo the ever-changing qualities of the landscapes Turner loved to paint.
The reason for carmine's instability lies in its unusual source: it's made from the blood of thousands of insects. The cochineal bug, which lives in desert regions and feeds on cactus plants, is harvested and pressed for its blood to create this vivid red pigment.
Surprisingly, this practice continues today, and not just for pigments. Carmine is used in red lipsticks and eyeshadows, and even in food products like Cherry Coke and various sweets throughout the United States and Europe.
The continued use of this unstable and somewhat ethically questionable pigment demonstrates our enduring fascination with vibrant colors, even when we know they may not last. It also raises interesting questions about the lengths we're willing to go to achieve certain aesthetic effects, both in art and in everyday life.
The Journey of Yellow
Our color journey now takes us to Asia and the story of a widespread yellow pigment known as ivy yellow or gamboge. This pigment, one of the oldest shades of yellow, comes not from ivy but from the Garcinia hanburyi tree, a relative of the mango.
The yellow pigment is extracted from the tree's resin in a process similar to how latex is harvested from rubber trees. An incision is made in the tree's trunk, but unlike rubber trees, which produce latex within hours, it can take up to a year for gamboge resin to flow from a Garcinia tree once it's been tapped.
Gamboge made its way to Europe via the Silk Road, the famous trade route that connected Asia with the West. It became a popular pigment among artists and craftsmen, prized for its vibrant golden hue.
However, the exact shade of gamboge fluctuated during the 20th century due to unexpected historical events. The Vietnam War and the violent rule of the Cambodian Khmer Rouge in the 1980s had a significant impact on the production and quality of this pigment.
During the bombing and fighting, many Garcinia trees were felled, and their resin mixed with the surrounding mud. While locals continued to harvest the product, it had become more of a toffee color than the bright saffron yellow it was known for, leading to decreased sales.
The exported pigment also contained other impurities. The paint company Winsor & Newton, upon analyzing the pigment packets they received, found traces of bullets that had become lodged in the trees during combat.
This story of gamboge yellow illustrates how global events can have unexpected consequences, even in areas as seemingly removed from conflict as pigment production. It's a reminder that the colors we use in our art and everyday life are not isolated from the world's broader historical and political contexts.
The Deadly Green
Our exploration of colors takes a sinister turn as we delve into the story of a particular shade of green and its possible connection to one of history's most famous figures: Napoleon Bonaparte.
Napoleon died in exile on the island of Saint Helena in 1821. At the time, his doctors attributed his death to cancer or possibly depression brought on by his exile. However, a mystery arose when, in 1960, strands of Napoleon's hair (taken by one of his doctors shortly after his death) were sold at auction and subsequently analyzed. To everyone's surprise, traces of arsenic were found in the hair.
This discovery opened up an intriguing possibility: could Napoleon have died not from natural causes, but from some form of poisoning? The answer to this question leads us to the story of a popular green paint of the time.
Before Napoleon's era, green paint was typically extracted from minerals. However, in 1775, Swedish chemist Carl Wilhelm Scheele made an accidental discovery while manufacturing yellow paint. When he inadvertently added arsenic to a mixture of chlorine and oxygen, instead of yellow, a bright green color emerged.
Despite concerns about the poisonous component in the paint, Scheele patented and marketed his discovery. The vibrant green became incredibly popular among the elite of the time, used in everything from clothing to wallpaper.
In 1980, Dr. David Jones, a British chemistry professor, retrieved some of the original wallpaper from Napoleon's room on St. Helena. The wallpaper was, indeed, green and contained definite traces of arsenic. Dr. Jones theorized that the damp conditions on St. Helena could have caused the walls to become moldy, triggering a chemical reaction that released arsenic into the air.
While we can't be absolutely certain that arsenic-laced wallpaper was the cause of Napoleon's death, it certainly wouldn't have been beneficial to his health. This story serves as a chilling reminder of how the pursuit of beauty and fashion can sometimes have deadly consequences.
The Coveted Blue
Our journey through the world of color now brings us to one of the most prized and expensive pigments in history: ultramarine blue. This deep, rich blue has been highly coveted in many cultures and remains valuable to this day.
The rarity and expense of ultramarine blue is exemplified by an interesting detail in Michelangelo's painting "The Entombment" (1501), housed in the National Gallery in London. The painting has an odd blank section in the bottom right-hand corner, which experts believe was meant to depict a kneeling Virgin Mary. The problem was that Mary is traditionally depicted wearing blue clothing, and ultramarine blue paint was so expensive at the time that Michelangelo likely couldn't afford to complete this part of the painting.
The reason for ultramarine's high cost lies in its source and the complexity of its extraction process. True ultramarine blue is derived from lapis lazuli, a rare semiprecious stone found primarily in Asia, especially in Afghanistan.
The process of extracting the pigment from lapis lazuli is arduous and time-consuming. First, impurities like calcium carbonate must be removed from the stone. Then, the lapis lazuli is ground into a fine powder and mixed with gum, resin, wax, and oil. This mixture is left to rest for three days before a blue liquid is pressed out of the resulting putty. Finally, the liquid is left to evaporate, leaving behind a fine blue residue that forms the basis of ultramarine paint.
The use of ultramarine blue in art predates Michelangelo by centuries. One of its earliest known uses was on two monumental Buddha statues carved into a cliff in Bamiyan, Afghanistan, in the sixth century AD. These statues, which stood at the intersection of several Buddhist monasteries and the famous Silk Road trading route, were crowned with frescoes painted using ultramarine extracted from local lapis lazuli.
Tragically, these magnificent statues, despite their UNESCO World Heritage Site status, were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001. This loss not only robbed the world of incredible works of art but also erased a significant piece of color history.
The story of ultramarine blue illustrates how certain colors have been prized throughout history for their rarity and beauty. It also shows how the availability (or scarcity) of certain pigments has shaped artistic choices and even influenced the course of art history.
The Battle Blue
From the rare and expensive ultramarine, we move to a more common but no less interesting shade of blue: indigo. This dye, extracted from plants, has a fascinating history that takes us back to ancient Britain.
When Julius Caesar first conquered Britain, and again in the first century AD, the Romans observed a peculiar practice among the Britons: they painted themselves blue before going into battle. This observation was recorded by Pliny the Elder, who noted that the Britons used a weed called glastum, more commonly known as woad, to give their skin a blue hue.
Woad is a hardy and fast-growing plant with yellow flowers. According to Pliny, the use of woad dye was gender-specific among the Britons. He wrote that women used the paint for naked religious rites and invocations to the gods, while men stained their skin in preparation for battle.
The process of preparing woad dye was labor-intensive. The Britons would gather woad leaves, crush them, and then ferment the resulting mash. They would then squeeze out a liquid from this mulch, which underwent another round of fermentation. The resulting yellow liquid was stored in pots which, when opened and exposed to air, would turn blue again. Only then could it be applied to the skin.
Despite the effort required to prepare it, woad dye had practical benefits in battle. It likely acted as both an astringent and an antiseptic. If a Briton was wounded in battle, the woad on their skin could potentially reduce the risk of infection. It would also cause the skin around the wound to contract, potentially reducing blood loss.
This use of woad by the ancient Britons illustrates how colors have been used not just for aesthetic purposes, but also for practical and symbolic reasons throughout history. It's a reminder that the significance of color often goes far beyond mere appearance.
The Imperial Purple
Our colorful journey concludes with perhaps the most regal and historically significant of all hues: purple. No other color carries quite the same level of glamour and historical weight as purple, which has long been associated with royalty and power.
The story of purple's imperial status can be traced back to ancient Rome, and it even played a role in one of history's most famous romances. In 49 BC, Cleopatra, the ruler of Egypt, organized a lavish party for Julius Caesar to celebrate his victories over his former ally Pompey. The party had a distinct color scheme: purple. Purple stones were scattered throughout the palace, the sails of Cleopatra's boat were dyed purple, and even the palatial curtains and soft furnishings were colored in this rich hue.
This extravagant display of purple was no accident. At the time, purple dye was phenomenally expensive as it was made from rare sea creatures. The luxury and opulence of this purple-themed celebration couldn't fail to impress, and indeed, Caesar fell head over heels in love with Cleopatra.
From this point on, purple took on an even more significant role in Roman society. Caesar became the first to wear a toga dyed entirely in purple, and the Romans soon restricted the wearing of such garments to only the upper echelons of society.
The exclusivity of purple wasn't just a matter of Roman law – it was also a result of its incredible expense. Even so, the purple toga became a lasting symbol of power and prestige. Under the emperor Nero (37-68 AD), wearing purple robes was restricted to the emperor himself, with transgressors facing execution. Later emperors like Severus (145-211) and Aurelian (214-275) allowed women to wear purple but still restricted this privilege among men to only the most eminent.
Emperor Diocletian (244-311) took a different approach, actually encouraging the wearing of purple. This was a shrewd move, as the luxurious and sought-after dye was heavily taxed, providing a good source of revenue for the empire.
The story of purple demonstrates how colors can become powerful symbols of status and authority. It also shows how the control and distribution of certain colors can be used as tools of political and social power.
Conclusion: The Colorful Tapestry of Human History
As we conclude our journey through the palette of human history, we can see that colors are far more than just visual phenomena. They are deeply intertwined with our cultural, social, and even political experiences.
From the earthy ochres used by our prehistoric ancestors to the regal purples of Roman emperors, each color tells a story of human ingenuity, desire, and sometimes folly. We've seen how the pursuit of certain colors has led to remarkable discoveries, but also to dangerous practices. We've learned how colors have been used to denote status, prepare for battle, and even potentially cause the death of one of history's most famous figures.
The history of color reminds us that the world around us is rich with meaning and significance, often in ways we don't immediately recognize. The red of a cherry lollipop, the blue of a painted sky, or the green of a lush forest – each of these colors carries with it a complex history of discovery, trade, and human creativity.
Understanding the history of paints and pigments allows us to better appreciate not just art and aesthetics, but the broader human experience and our engagement with the world around us. It reminds us that the vibrant hues we often take for granted are the products of centuries of exploration, experimentation, and innovation.
Moreover, the story of color is ongoing. Even today, scientists and artists continue to discover new pigments and create new shades, adding to the rich tapestry of human color experience. Who knows what new stories future colors will tell?
As we move forward, carrying this knowledge of color's past, we can look at the world around us with fresh eyes. Every color we see is not just a visual sensation, but a thread in the grand narrative of human history. From the clothes we wear to the art we admire, colors continue to shape our world in profound and sometimes unexpected ways.
In the end, Victoria Finlay's exploration of color reminds us that even the most everyday aspects of our lives can be gateways to fascinating stories and deeper understanding. It encourages us to look more closely at the world around us, to question the origins of things we often take for granted, and to appreciate the complex processes and rich histories behind the visual feast that surrounds us every day.
So the next time you admire a vibrant painting, choose a color for your walls, or simply gaze at a colorful sunset, remember: you're not just seeing a color. You're witnessing a small part of the grand, colorful story of human civilization.