In the world of art, colours are more than just visual elements. They carry with them deep histories, some toxic, others serendipitous, that have shaped iconic works throughout centuries. From Picasso’s famed Prussian Blue to Vermeer’s rich shade of red, pigments have fascinating origins that enhance the meaning behind the masterpieces we know today.
Picasso and Hokusai: A Blue Born of Accident
One of the most famous pigments in art history, Prussian Blue, was discovered by accident in 1706 in an alchemist’s lab in Berlin. The hue unexpectedly connects iconic pieces such as Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa (1831) and Picasso’s The Blue Room (1901). The vibrant shade was the result of a botched attempt by Johann Konrad Dippel, a German occultist who is rumoured to have inspired Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Dippel was attempting to concoct an elixir that could cure all ailments when his recipe went awry. In the midst of his failure, a dye-maker intervened, mixing crushed crimson beetles with Dippel’s rejected brew. Instead of scarlet, the result was a deep, shimmering blue—Prussian Blue.
This fortuitous discovery changed the landscape of art, with the pigment becoming a staple for artists like Edgar Degas and Claude Monet. Prussian Blue imbued their works with a sense of mystery and power that may never have been achieved without this accidental discovery.
Vermeer’s Hidden Power: Rose Madder Red
In Vermeer’s The Girl with a Wine Glass (1659-60), the vibrant red of the woman’s dress plays a crucial role in the painting’s tension-filled atmosphere. This shade, known as Rose Madder, is derived from the roots of the Rubia tinctorum plant, boiled down to create a radiant ruby hue. The red radiates from the young woman’s dress, heightening the unsettling dynamic between her and the lecherous suitor in the scene.
Vermeer’s choice to use Rose Madder wasn’t just aesthetic; it added layers of meaning. The pigment’s intense red hue, derived from nature yet manipulated by human hands, mirrored the woman’s precarious position in the painting—seemingly controlled by her suitor, yet quietly exuding power.
Flaming June and Chrome Orange: A Symbol of Eternal Beauty
Sir Frederic Leighton’s Flaming June (1895) captures a nymph in repose, swathed in a resplendent orange. At first glance, the painting seems to represent tranquillity and summer warmth. Yet, the use of chrome orange, a relatively new pigment in the 19th century, adds complexity. The mineral chromite, discovered near Paris and Baltimore, was transformed into this vivid colour through a painstaking process of alchemical experimentation.
With her flowing robes and serene posture, the woman in Flaming June seems like a mortal ready to succumb to the inevitability of time. However, the choice of chrome orange defies this interpretation. Rather than symbolizing decay, it turns the painting into an emblem of eternal, untarnished beauty.
Rembrandt’s Lead-Tin Yellow: Lost and Found
Rembrandt’s Belshazzar’s Feast (c. 1636-38) features a radiant yellow, once a closely guarded secret among old masters. This lead-tin yellow, with its rich hues ranging from mustard to chiffon, mysteriously disappeared from paintings by the mid-18th century, its recipe lost to time.
It wasn’t until 1940 that a researcher at the Doerner Institute in Munich, Richard Jacobi, rediscovered the recipe. By heating a combination of lead monoxide and tin dioxide, he uncovered the secret to the deep yellows used by Rembrandt and other old masters, thus reviving an important chapter of art history.
Toxic Greens and Morisot’s Hidden Dangers
Berthe Morisot’s Summer’s Day (1879) showcases a seemingly peaceful moment of two women adrift in a boat. However, the toxic nature of the pigment used—emerald green—adds a sinister undertone to the scene. Derived from arsenic-laced compounds, emerald green is related to the pigment Scheele’s Green, which is believed to have contributed to the death of Napoleon Bonaparte.
In Summer’s Day, the choice of this vibrant yet hazardous green contrasts with the idyllic setting, injecting an air of unease that the viewer might not initially notice. Morisot’s use of emerald green transforms the painting from a tranquil moment on the water to one filled with unseen peril.
Cobalt Violet: Monet’s Impressionistic Innovation
The 19th century saw the invention of cobalt violet, the first purpose-built purple pigment. This pigment, combined with the advent of portable paint tubes, allowed artists like Claude Monet to capture the subtle shades of nature. In his painting Irises (1914-1926), Monet uses cobalt violet to illustrate the vibrancy and texture of the flowers.
Monet’s impressionist style relied heavily on colour to communicate the feeling of a scene. The advent of cobalt violet revolutionized his work, enabling him to capture the essence of natural light and atmosphere in ways never before possible.
The Dark Side of White: Lead Pigments in Whistler’s Masterpiece
James McNeill Whistler’s Symphony in White, No 1: The White Girl (1861-62) appears to represent purity, but the pigment used—lead white—carries a darker history. The creation of lead white involved fermenting lead strips alongside vinegar and animal excrement, resulting in a toxic, neurotoxic pigment that was both highly prized and highly dangerous.
While the title of Whistler’s painting emphasizes the purity of the colour white, the pigment’s filthy origins highlight the duality of beauty and danger, purity and corruption. Lead white transforms Whistler’s work into a deeper exploration of the tensions between appearance and reality.
Conclusion: The Stories Colours Tell
The pigments that make up some of the most famous masterpieces in art history tell stories that go beyond their visual impact. From toxic greens to accident-born blues, these colours carry with them histories that enrich our understanding of the works they define. Art, it seems, is not just in the image but in the very elements that create it.
