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Bright Earth: Art and the Invention of Color

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Philip Ball presents us with the thesis that the coloring materials available to painters have constrained and inspired them down through the whole history of Western art, and that understanding how each of those materials appeared, and how artists and their patrons received them, has a surprising degree of explanatory power.

He amply supports this modest thesis. But fortunately for the reader, he is less interested in pushing a point than in telling a story. It's also a stroke of our good fortune that he rambles as he tells it. Ball is first of all an accomplished science writer, but his interests are very wide. Yes, he tells us all we need to know about the physics of light, and the inorganic and organic chemistry that have made the painter's palette steadily more vibrant with the passing centuries. He also gives us the technology behind the colors, and with this book as a key one might, if one had to, reconstruct many of the most important, and often closely guarded, color recipes of the ancients and the Old Masters. But he also limns the rise and fall of many of the strongest currents in Western art; painting's interaction with religion and commerce, and how its schools rose and fell and squabbled. Nor does he neglect philology; I loved learning where all those strange names on the tubes of oil paint come from.

The secret life of pigments is a rich subject, of which Ball has clearly made himself a master. Fascinating facts and boldly drawn connections tumble after one another, and there's not a single ounce of padding anywhere.

You'll learn what "cobalt" blue has to do with Kobolds: miners in Saxony who dug cobalt-zinc oxides for the color felt the ore to be in league against them with the wicked spirits of the mines, because it ate away their hands and feet if they weren't careful to keep them dry.

You'll learn why the Virgin Mary came to be dressed in blue; the tradeoffs a Renaissance artist had to make deciding whether to work in tempera, size, oils, or "distemper"; how old paintmakers' recipe books provide a Rosetta stone into some of the arcane symbolism of the alchemists; how the philosophical war between Florence and Venice over the relative virtues of color and line may have been influenced by Venice's shipbuilding industry; what Seurat was trying to accomplish with all those tiny dots, why he was able to attract an entire school of pointillists to his cause, and why it failed.

There are chapters on the physiology of color perception and the physics of color, on how colors deteriorate and what can and can't be done to restore them, on the invention and refinement of photography and color printing. But for all the byways he pursues, Ball never strays far from the thread of his main narrative: the accelerating pursuit of new materials, so that the colors on the physical surface can more brightly and accurately reflect the colors in the painter's mental eye.

It's worth noting that, compared to conventional pictures of art history, the one that emerges here is curiously foreshortened: since most of the colors on the palette have appeared since 1850, the Impressionists mark the midpoint of this version of the story.

There's so much here that almost every reader will find new and diverting ideas, whether their initial interest is in art, or in chemistry, or in cultural history. Not everything that dazzles illuminates; but "Bright Earth" does both.

In BRIGHT EARTH, Philip Ball says, in the early 20th Century, Louis Vauxcelles, the art critic, on viewing Florentine-inspired sculptures standing in the midst of an exhibit of paintings that included the works of Matisse, Kandinsky, Braque, and others of their ilk is reported to have said, "Look, Donatello in a cage of wild beasts" (dans la cage aux fauves)--giving this group of artists the sobriquet by which they are known. Vauxcelles comment was prompted by his reaction to what he perceived to be an enthusiastic use of colors. Ball says the Fauvists were inspired by Van Gogh and Gauguin--the late impressionists, and in turn they inspired Picasso and the modern art movement of the 20th Century which Ball says was largely driven by color.

I had read Vauxcelles' comment elsewhere, but in Ball's retelling, the quip makes complete sense. The cages are the framed canvases. The colors are wild like the exotic beasts brought to Europe from faraway places. These colors were virtually unknown before the late 19th Century and the rise of the petrochemical industry. Like Van Gogh and Gauguin before and Picasso after the Fauvists used these pigments in unnatural ways.

Generally, art histories divert one into a discussion about lighting, atmosphere, iconography, brush stokes, or composition. Color is discussed but usually as an adjunct or afterthought. In BRIGHT EARTH, color IS the organizing principle--and it makes all the difference. The light in Monet's boating scene bounces off the water because the waves are composed of tiny flecks of violet and yellow. Van Gogh's Sunflowers have the tone they do because he liked to experiment with color and he used an unstable lemon-yellow pigment that has deteriorated over time. Rembrandt was brilliant not only because he created classic compositions and used deft brush strokes to do so, but because he understood how to use pigments that would stand the test of time.

What is color? I once visited a museum in Chicago which had an interior room filled with white canvases. Each canvas may have had a small black mark on it, I don't remember. What I remember is a completely white room which was supposed to be devoid of stimulation--but I found the room very stimulating. Is white a color or isn't it? Ball debates both sides of this argument. I find it amusing that over the millenia, artists, weavers, and other have found the non-color white one of the most difficult colors to acquire. Ball says that at the end of the 20th Century, the nine-volume publication entitled, "Color Index International", includes 9,000 pages of "colorants" and the pigment produced in the greatest numbers is white. White is the most "widely preferred veneer for our synthethic environment." One has only to think of paper towels, napkins, toliet paper, toothpaste, bread, and a variety of material goods that are made white so that consumers will buy them.

BRIGHT EARTH is an incredible and comprehensive book covering painting from Altimira to Hockney, pigments from Madder Red to Cadmium Red, art works from Greek vases to Miro tapestries, and chemicals from organics such as Woad and Indigo, to the enamels used by artists who no longer can be divided into categories such as scuplter, painter, weaver. Ball has skillfully handled a plethora of complex material. He is an incredibly well organized researcher and this is a well written book.

I have only one criticism of Ball's book. In his effort to concentrate on color relative to the visual arts of painting, photography, and print making, he has failed to include much material about textiles (some, but it won't be enough if this is your medium), and he virtually omits discussion of ceramics and pottery, and garden design. Because of this, he cannot clearly frame the future of art which most assuredly will include both visual and tactile dimensions. In Ball's defense, if he had covered these other arts his book would have been 9,000 pages long and filled nine volumes.

Bright Earth: Art and the Invention of Color by Philip Ball is an amazing mix of color, art, chemistry, and mineralogy. Ball takes the reader on a field trip through the history of pigments and the paintings painted with them, with a strong emphasis on the chemistry that he knows well. The underlying thesis of the book is that the pigments available at a particular moment in history had a strong influence on the art made with them and, based on extensive empirical evidence presented in the book, I would say that Ball has made his case. If you aren't prepared for large amounts of well-written detail, stay away from this book. As a geologist turned high school chemistry and earth science teacher with a love of art, I found much to like about Bright Earth. My only complaint is that the book makes mention of hundreds of works of art, but only presents pictures of a small precentage of them. This book would benefit from a coffee table-type treatment with a more extensive gallery of the mentioned works of art. That said, the book is far enough past 4 stars to give it a full 5.

I was able to get a review copy of "Bright Earth" and found it a remarkable book. I have been a painter for over 20 years, but only after reading this book do I feel that I have begun to grasp not only the crucial role of color in art, but also the remarkable scientific and cultural aspects of color.

In particular, I now understand how 19th century breakthroughs in color science were crucial to Modern Art.

The pages of this book hold one revelation after another... you won't skip a chapter.

ball's theme is disarmingly simple: that the history of western art can be illuminated by the history of the physical substances used to create color.

ball explains very early that his materialistic approach has often been disparaged by artists, who do not want to be seen as mere craftsmen but as visionaries and poets. his reply is simply that the luxury of buying premade paints is a relatively new phenomenon; before this century artists almost always made their own paints and for that reason understood in great detail the best ways to use them for permanency and color effects. ball describes these uses in great detail, in artists as diverse as titian, cezanne and yves klein, and the insights he provides into painting techniques are fascinating.

trained as a physicist and chemist, ball understands the scientific aspects of color perception and pigment manufacture, and has mastered the basics of how these are used in artworks; better yet, he can describe all these facts clearly and enjoyably, with vivid images and graceful writing. i found a few details that struck me as inaccurate or incorrectly interpreted, but as a whole the book is extremely reliable and informative, a testament to careful research and editing.

ball's book is well worth reading along with john gage's "color and culture" (a book ball quotes with approval), which focuses on the social and intellectual aspects of color in art. ball's title might be "pigment and technique," since he shows that the continual appearance of new pigments opened up new technical problems, and technical possibilities, for artists to work on. this is still a relatively new approach to art history and art interpretation, but it is gaining influence: see for example james elkins's "what painting is" for a free interpretation of the parallels and points of contact between painting and alchemy.

The book contains very detailed descriptions and "recipes" of how pigments were obtained in alchemists or craftsmen laboratories, quoting the original "magic" texts, craftsmen manuals or art treatises of the time, instead of using chemical formulas, but Ball briefly explains the minerals or chemical compounds and the chemical reactions that took place in the "cauldrons" to produce certain hues. I liked the explanation that before the Renaissence, the artists produced their own pigments and often their mastery and unique style resided precisely in the quality of the pigments each of them could produce. Arts and crafts were still a single term, the same as science and crafts.

It is not easy to classify this book, I would not say it is a science book, what the title "the invention of color" would suggest; nor an art history, since it focuses only on hues, never mentioning style, composition, technique, etc. It is more a history of dyes and pigments and how they were used by artists of different ages.

It explains how the availability of different pigments and the cost of obtaining them, shaped the artists' palette and how the artists of different periods chose among the available pigments to create and shape their own color style. Avant garde painters took advantage of the discovery of new pigments in order to create new styles and art movements, that gradually became mainstream. Sometimes this resulted in reduced durability and stability - some great works of art are lost to us due to the use of "untested" pigments. More traditional artists preferred to restrict their palettes but used only dies of proven quality.

Chapter 2: "Plucking the rainbow. The physics and chemistry of color" is brilliant, clear and comprehensible, as are all approaches to science topics by Mr. Ball.

Ball uses the original names of the pigments or colours throughout the book, like "vermilion", "ultramarine", "azurite", "indigo", "orpiment", to name a few. Since they were used to name a color, a substance or both and since sometimes the same substance gave origin to two different colors or similar colors could arise from different substances, some confusion arises. At times, this read like a soup of ingredients to me. Although this does not affect the general readability of the book, I find it difficult to remember all these words. If it should serve as a reference, an Appendix, listing the dyes, as well as the minerals or substances from which they were obtained, their formula, the period or artist that used them most, etc. or even a "coloured" timeline would be more useful.

Had this book been written by somebody different than Phillip Ball, it would most probably be very boring. Mr. Ball definitely knows how to write, since the book is quite easy to read, despite the extravagant display of factual details.

Bright Earth is about the long history of paint, not as much as art and painting but of paint itself, and the amazing history people have with visual art.

Focusing on the machanics of paint, where the pigments came from, possible ways people discovered paint, and how different pigments interact with their binders, this is a very intersting and informative book on the technical aspects of visual art, but the book is more.

It deals also with the historic aspect of color and how cultural precepts influence our perception of color and color theory. How our cultural baggage influences how we see color and our reactions to it.

Colour is easy to take as grant. However, the great painters of the history worked often with a very limited palettes, as good pigments simply weren't invented. The best blues and reds were very valuable, which defined the ways they were used in medieval painting. There's plenty of detail in the history of art that can be explained by the economics and chemistry of paint.

Philip Ball is a chemist and painters will learn a lot of chemistry from this book. Chemists will learn about art and painting and curious reader will learn both. The book is clearly written, entertaining and educational: an excellent example of good popular science. There are plenty of interesting details, as Ball goes through the history of art and pigments from the stone age cave paintings to modern art. (Review based on the Finnish translation.)

That the materials affect the art seems to be the theme that tries to tie together the disparate parts of this rambling volume.

We sometimes assume that at least since the middle ages artists have been able to paint in an almost infinite number of colors, and that at least until modern times they always tried to use colors that reproduced reality as closely as possible. As Ball explains, neither assumption is true. Even as recently as 100 years or so ago, artists' palettes were constrained by the inability to produce reliable pigment of any desired color. Medieval painters had relatively few paints and tended -- as modern artists at times also have -- to select colors based on their cost. Only the development of artificial dies and pigments, primarily in the nineteenth century, has freed artists to create almost any color they wish -- and has helped turn the focus of art from form to color. The book illustrates these points with a number of well-reproduced color plates.

Ball also includes chapters on the techniques of printing, photography, and art conservation. While these are interesting, they wander from the major subject of the book and the discussion of photography, especially, is somewhat technical and tedious.

But this is not overall a technical treatise. Ball's real interest is art and his book is at heart an art appreciation course. This is both its strength and its weakness. That it tells the history of pigments in the context of the history of art and of artists is what makes it of interest to someone other than an industrial chemist. Unfortunately, from the time he reaches the Impressionists Ball talks more and more about art, less and less about pigments, until the book becomes almost pure art appreciation. We get extended discussions of the Impressionists and the Fauvists and the this-ists and that-ists, lists of many paintings very few of which are available in the color plates, but only passing mention of pigments and materials. Judged on an art basis alone this is not a particularly good book. Its art appreciation is of the gushing, exhibition-catalog sort; you know things are going downhill when you read a sentence like "Impressionism was a movement motivated by the ineluctability of artistic integrity and by the artist's need to search rather than slavishly to follow." (In fairness, Ball's prose is generally pretty good, which makes the occasional klunker like that stand out.)

The story of art materials is an interesting one, though, and is well told for much of the book. "Bright Earth" deserves three-and-a-half stars but since I have to choose it seems closer to four than to three.

Bright Earth gives a detailed history of the development of colour as used in art (painting primarily). It is well written and easy to read but perhaps tends a little towards being a pedantic. Nevertheless it is very helpful in understanding colour and its use in art through the ages.