Blue: A colour that the great painters loved

Blue: The Colour Cherished by Great Artists

From lapis lazuli to the “millennium blue,” the different shades of blue have played a pivotal role in shaping history.

The Colour of My Dreams

In the 1920s, Catalan artist Juan Miró embarked on a series of paintings that were a stark departure from his previous work. One large canvas from this series, titled ‘Reinture-Roésie’ (Poetry Painting) and painted in 1925, was almost entirely blank. On the upper left corner, the word “Photo” is elegantly inscribed in ornate calligraphic letters; on the right, a popcorn-shaped scribble in the hue of the flower, “forget-me-not,” and beneath it, written in plain, unadorned letters: “This is the colour of my dreams” (ceci est la couleur des mes rêves).

Two years prior, American geneticist Clyde Keeler, while studying the eyes of blind mice, made a discovery that seemed to echo Miró’s sentiment. Even though mice lack the photoreceptors that allow mammals to perceive light, their pupils inexplicably contract in response to it. It would take nearly seventy-five years to definitively prove that all humans, even those without sight, possess a unique receptor that perceives blue light. This is significant as our response to this part of the spectrum, which is typically found in the highest concentrations in the first light of day, regulates our circadian rhythm, the internal clock that enables us to sleep at night and remain active during the day. The problem today is that with the prevalence of spotlights and smartphones that glow in the dark, we are exposed to blue light at irregular times, disrupting our sleep. In a 2015 survey, adult Americans reported sleeping an average of 6.9 hours, a stark contrast to the 8-9 hour average of 150 years ago.

Despite blue being traditionally associated with sadness, many cultures, including those of the ancient Egyptians, Hindus, and the Tuareg tribe in North Africa, have held a special reverence for the colour blue and blue objects.

The Western world, on the other hand, has a lengthy history of denigrating blue objects. During the Paleolithic and Neolithic eras, the dominant colours were red, black, and brown. The ancient Greeks and Romans favoured black, white, and red. The Romans, in particular, linked blue with barbarism; historical accounts reveal that Celtic warriors painted their bodies blue, while Pliny accused women of doing the same before participating in orgies. In Rome, blue attire was a symbol of mourning and misfortune.

The color blue is notably absent in early Christian sources. A 19th-century analysis of color terms used by Christian writers before the 13th century found blue to be the least referenced color, accounting for a mere 1% of all mentions.

However, the situation drastically changed from the 12th century onwards. The Virgin Mary started being depicted in bright blue garments, a stark contrast to her previous portrayal in dark colors symbolizing mourning for her son’s death. Her prominence and devotion grew during the Middle Ages, and with it, the popularity of the color blue increased.

By the Middle Ages, the pigment most notably associated with the Virgin Mary was the precious ultramarine, which for centuries remained the most sought-after pigment. However, it was not the only substance that had a significant impact on the history of the color blue. Indigo also played a crucial role. Despite the former being derived from a rock and the latter being a dye made from fermented plant leaves, they share more similarities than one might think. Both require careful extraction and preparation, demanding patience and respect. While artists labored to pulverize the stone and mold the indigo, dyers, stripped to the waist, toiled to aerate the foul-smelling cauldrons. The cost of these dyes fueled a cycle of desire and demand that only ended with the creation of alternative synthetic dyes in the 19th century.

Although blue has traditionally been associated with sorrow, many cultures, including those of the ancient Egyptians, Hindus, and the Tuaregs in North Africa, have revered blue. Numerous companies and organizations opt for a darker shade in their logos and uniforms due to the impersonal credibility it exudes. This trend likely began with the Armed Forces, particularly the Navy sailors (hence the term navy blue), who required colors that could withstand the sun and sea.

In the late 12th century, the French royal family adopted a coat of arms featuring a golden fleur-de-lis on a blue azure background in honor of the Virgin Mary. This sparked a trend among the European aristocracy, who quickly emulated it. In 1200, only 5% of Europe’s coats of arms contained blue azure. By 1250, this figure had risen to 15%, by 1300 to 25%, and by 1400, it had soared to 35%. A recent survey conducted across 10 different countries and four continents revealed that blue is people’s favorite color. Similar surveys conducted since the First World War have yielded the same results. Blue, once perceived as the color of degenerates and barbarians, seems to have conquered the world.

Cerulean Blue

On February 17, 1901, Carlos Casachemas, a Spanish poet and artist, tragically ended his life in the chic Parisian café L’Hippodrome near Montmartre. In the company of friends, he pulled out a pistol and shot himself in the right temple. This event deeply affected his circle, particularly Pablo Picasso, who was still grappling with the loss of his sister to diphtheria six years prior. Picasso’s grief permeated his work for several years, and he found himself predominantly using one color that could aptly convey his sorrow: blue.

Blue, in its various shades, has often been used to express spiritual matters. When the United Nations was established post-World War II to maintain global peace, it chose a slightly greyish-blue color for its emblem – a world map encircled by two branches. The architect and designer of the emblem, Oliver Lundquist, selected this hue as it represented the “opposite of red, the color of war”.

Cerulean blue is particularly associated with spirituality and peace. Many Hindu deities, including Krishna, Shiva and Rama, are depicted with sky-blue skin, symbolizing their connection to the infinite. The French refer to this tone as bleu celeste, or celestial blue. Interestingly, many buildings of the Church of Scientology in California, including the mansion reserved for the reincarnation of its founder, L. Ron Hubbard, are painted in this color. (Hubbard himself reportedly said to a colleague when founding Scientology, “Let’s sell these people a piece of the blue sky.”) The Pantone company declared the pale blue shade of “forget-me-not” as the color of the millennium, suggesting that consumers would “seek inner peace and spiritual fulfillment in the new millennium” with its aid.

The cerulean pigment, a member of the cobalt family, only became accessible to artists in the 1860s and initially, only for watercolors. It was a blend of cobalt and tin oxides, known as cobalt cassiterite, which didn’t achieve commercial success until the 1870s when it was introduced in oil paint form. This transition removed the light chalky texture it had in watercolor, enticing a generation of painters. Van Gogh preferred to create his own version of cerulean blue, using a mix of cobalt blue, a touch of cadmium yellow, and white. Other artists, like Paul Siniak, known for his airy pointe, were less hesitant about using the commercial pigment. He, along with many of his peers including Monet, used countless tubes of it. In a chance encounter with Picasso’s paint supplier in Paris in November 1943, photographer and writer Brasai was shown a piece of paper bearing Picasso’s handwriting. “At first glance, it seemed like a poem,” Brasai muses, “but it turned out to be Picasso’s final paint order. Third on the list, after ‘permanent white’ and ‘silver white’, was ‘cerulean blue’.”

Prussian Blue

In Benjamin Labatut’s book “When We Cease to Understand the World”, he tells the tale of the Prussian blue pigment.

Decades earlier, Zyklon A, a precursor to the poison used by the Nazis in concentration camps, was employed as a pesticide in California’s orange groves and to fumigate the wagons that secretly transported tens of thousands of Mexican immigrants into the United States. The wood of these wagons took on a striking blue hue, the same blue that still stains the bricks at Auschwitz today. In both instances, the color traces back to the original source of cyanide, which emerged in 1782 as a by-product of the first modern synthetic substance, Prussian cyan.

The introduction of Prussian cyan caused an immediate stir in the European art world. Due to its affordable price, it swiftly supplanted the color traditionally used by painters from the Renaissance onwards for angelic robes and the Virgin’s mantles. Ultramarine, the priciest and most esteemed blue pigment, was derived from lapis lazuli, mined from the caves in Afghanistan’s Kocha River valley. This mineral, when pulverized, produced a blue so vibrant that its chemical replication only became feasible in the early 18th century. This happened when Swiss dye maker Johann Jakob Diesbach inadvertently discovered Prussian cyan in 1704 while attempting to replicate a ruby red made from powdered female cochineal insects, small parasitic bugs found on the nopal cactus in Mexico and Central and South America. These insects are so delicate that they require more care than silkworms, as wind, rain, and frost can easily damage their white cylindrical bodies, and they are constantly under threat from rats, birds, and caterpillars. Their blood-red color was, along with silver and gold, one of the major treasures pilfered by the Spanish conquistadors from the peoples of South America, granting the Spanish crown a centuries-long monopoly on carmine. Diesbach aimed to break this monopoly; he added potash (caustic potash) to an animal remains distillate prepared by his young assistant, the alchemist Johann Conrad Dippel. However, instead of the vivid ruby red of the cochineal, he witnessed a deep cyan precipitate form. The color was so stunning that Diesbach initially thought he had discovered hsbd-iryt, the original color of the sky and the legendary blue the Egyptians used to paint their gods.

The secret formula, zealously guarded for centuries by Egyptian priests, was pilfered by a Greek and subsequently lost forever in the wake of the Roman Empire’s fall. Dismbach named his novel colour “Prussian blue”, aspiring to forge a profound connection between his serendipitous discovery and an empire that was destined to outshine the splendour of ancient civilizations. Indeed, only an individual of exceptional capability, perhaps even blessed with prophetic vision, could dare to envisage its eventual decline…

Text from the books “Colours and their secret lives” by Kassia St Clair (University Press of Crete) and “When we cease to understand the world” by Benhamin Labatoot (Doma) were referenced.

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