What! Blue and yellow don't make green?

Ever wondered why the Bible's Mary is so partial to deep blue robes or the reason the Dutch were once so enamoured of sober black, despite their lavish still lifes and intricate landscapes?

My Canadian copy's title & cover,
 Colour: Travels Through the 
Paintbox. Courtesy amazon.co.uk

"Full of forgotten facts and beguiling anecdotes ... it would be hard to confront a painting ever again without seeing in it a kind of coded map of the world." (Telegraph) 

Ever since I read Victoria Finlay's Colour: A Natural History of the Palette a few years ago, I've looked at colouring in a new light. Ditto for pearls and stones -- precious and semi-precious -- after Jewels: A Secret History. I think Colour is by far the better book, with its low-down on the most famous pigments used throughout the ages. For example, Finlay visits the fabled home of Ultramarine -- a colour so valuable, few, other than Mary herself, deserve to wear it in Renaissance master paintings.

Courtesy: Amazon.ca

Finlay travelled far and wide seeking out evidence of the fascinating world that existed prior to the introduction of chemical pigments and dyes. Australia's ochres were no pedestrian dirt, but a spectacular variety of colours. Simple and more complex blacks -- great pigments, terrible dyes. Other soils -- our Burnt Umbers and Siennas. 

Terre Verte -- the earth colour under all those wonderful pink Renaissance skin tones. I once asked an art teacher about the practice of Terre Verte underpainting -- what an earful -- all those necessary glazes on top. Not a method employed by artists today.

And not so yummy Mummy Brown's gruesome key ingredient --  exactly what the name says -- ground-up corpses. A once popular white -- once based on highly toxic lead. Vermilion, so ubiquitous in Japan -- another toxic tint. Bizarre yellows from India and Cambodia as well as a poisonous green that caused a mysterious death-by-wallpaper. Plus orange, and blue jeans' indigo plant. An over the top violet we know as Royal Purple -- the reason for ancient Tyre's humongous shell middens -- and the sunny secret to its dye. Mass-murder of the shellfish kind.

* * *

Needless to say, the most toxic ancient pigments are now only available by permit. It wouldn't do to have museums restoring their treasures with the modern chemical variety. And, despite the strides in safety provided by modern pigments, check out those expensive jars in art supply stores. Many still aren't safe to use without taking precautions.

Check out The Phrontistery for some unusual colour terms, from aeneous (a bronze), to glaucous (a green), to zinnober (another green).

More green, not an easy colour for Kermit:

* * *

Courtesy amazon.com.

Bitten by the colour-bug? A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage and the Quest for the Color of Desire is another fascinating tale. Each new fashion season tempts us with a "new black", but did you realize that red is the "old black"? Although there were a variety of red dyes, the Aztecs' cochineal stood out in brightness and colour-fastness. From a source the Spanish did their utmost to keep concealed, it was affordable only to the rich.

"Europeans tried to crack the enigma of cochineal. Did it come from a worm, a berry, a seed? ... all joined the chase ... a chase that lasted more than three centuries." (From back cover.)

* * *

Courtesy amazon.com.

For the true die-hard, Michael Wilcox's colour-theory Blue and Yellow Don't Make Green is a treat. Of course, they sometimes do -- but it all depends upon which blue and which yellow. After going through its colour charts and other detailed technical information, should you find yourself backsliding, just remember the "green and yeller" of Pete Seeger's Henry my Son. That should give you pause.

"Where have you been all the day, Henry my son? 

Where have you been all the day, my currant bun?

In the woods, dear mother. In the woods, dear mother.

Mother be quick, I got to be sick and lay me down to die.

. . .

What color was those eels, Henry my boy?

What color was those eels, my pride and joy?

Green and yeller. Green and yeller.

Mother be quick, I got to be sick and lay me down to die.

. . ." (lyricsvip.com)

A wonderful album. Looks like something out of
the  '70s, doesn't  it? Courtesy amazon.com.

I still have my 1975 double album, Pete Seeger and Arlo Guthrie Together in Concert, where I first heard Henry my Son. The misery of "green and yeller" have been with me ever since.

* * *

Books mentioned

• Colour: A Natural History of the Palette
• Jewels: A Secret History
• A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage and the Quest for the Color of Desire
• Blue and Yellow Don't Make Green