A fabulous article! The blue of lapis lazuli is one of my favorite colors in art. The way different civilizational spheres place a differing, sometimes opposing value upon different substances is always fascinating as well. An extreme example of that is the Spanish deeply cherishing gold vs. the Aztecs and Incas being less obsessed apart from valuing its decorative qualities. I guess lapis lazuli is another example of that, but without the financial dimensions of gold.
It really is a deeply interesting topic, and the thing about your example is that while the Spanish were simply greedy for it by then, this financial dimension came quite late in the game. It was originally associated with Divinity for many reasons that become really obvious when you're actually working with it – a truly miraculous substance, incorruptible and seemingly self-increasing (because you can spread it so unbelievably thin it just goes on and on). It really annoys me when people project their obsession with money on ancient temples that display a lot of gold – it's not there because they were hoarding wealth, but because it expressed the light and immortality of the Divine.
That's a beautiful way of understanding gold. I have the same issue a lot of the time with people who see gold in old churches in Europe and can only see a financial dimension. At this point, I assume anybody who says that is merely projecting their own view onto others. Because if they understood these other qualities, they wouldn't fixate on that.
Great article. It boggles my mind how this process was thought of in the first place. I wonder what the mineral composition differences are between the Afghanistan and the other lapis sources (I think you said Siberia and Chile?) are to make a color difference in the final product.
I wonder too, I don't know exactly but I imagine it's to do with slight variations in the overall composition; since the ground product sold as pigment is not pure lazurite, the difference in composition is visible in the final colour.
I’m always fascinated to wonder how people figured this out in the first place. So cool that you got to get your hands dirty with the actual process. Did it stain your hands blue?
Modern paints absolutely use synthetic pigments. Synthetic ultramarine was discovered at some point during the industrial revolution and hit the art market like a bomb because suddenly gorgeous blue was supremely affordable. The only natural pigments still used in paint are ochres, and even they are now often synthesised (those are called Mars colours). Some brands that claim to use real minerals are basically ripping you off because the proportion of true mineral in them is infinitesimal. If you're familiar with the real stuff, you can tell immediately, but most people fall for it. It's not necessarily a bad thing to have synthetic colours as the natural stuff is not necessarily sustainable, but this is a large topic that requires proper research and awareness – I definitely wouldn't draw a straight line between the two, even though for my personal use I avoid synthetic pigments.
What a beautiful article. I’d learned about the process in college but had never really been able to imagine it until now. After reading this with the comments, I now wonder if it had special associations in other cultures as well. For instance, there is a regional and time-specific style of interior design in Japan that favored ultramarine, which is highly unusual everywhere else. (http://www.seisonkaku.com/en/midokoro/shoken-no-ma.html). In my tea studies (Urasenke) we have discussed different interpretations of “wabi” aesthetics, like how Rikyu’s all-gold tea room still fits within that style, and how these colorful ultramarine rooms still evoke a sense of humble tranquility despite their richness and nobility. (I’m also curious about the idea that so many people accidentally confuse ultramarine with aquamarine, which happens very frequently with these Japanese rooms. Perhaps it’s a translation issue.)
I especially love your comparison between techniques, and the way you describe true ultramarine to be so vivid it seems self-replenishing. That’s a beautiful idea. Thank you so much for everything you shared here.
That's really interesting about the ultramarine rooms in Japan, but I suspect they are inspired by indigo rather than anything to do with lapis lazuli, as indigo dye plays a huge part in the various Japanese arts involving textile dyeing.
So interesting, thanks! Wonderful to see that glorious blue appear from the process, and interesting to reflect on the traditional view of elements as compared the modern: both seem to have their strengths and weaknesses, not to mention mythologies. Some of the strengths of the traditional one is that is unitive instead of fragmentary, democratic instead of siloed away by increasingly specialised professions, and that it’s weird and cool and interesting where chemistry is sterile and abstract. Nothing against chemistry per se, but *all* language is metaphor, and the language of fire, earth, water, air and their appetites and habits is much more approachable than the language of hyper-quantification and hyper-precision that science worships.
Both systems are ‘science,’ in fact, and in the etymological sense of paths to knowledge.
I long for the day when we’re able to embrace the mystery and shadows of the traditional view as well as the glaring white light of modern science. I think the world will be a nicer place for it.
I recall a BBC Four documentary series about colours in art history (https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00wskdk), there was a bit about lapis preparation in the Blue episode, but nothing as detailed as this. Thanks!
I love that book, it's absolutely brilliant. You might enjoy the Spike Bucklow book I mentioned above, but I need to read it again myself in the light of all I've learned since.
A fabulous article! The blue of lapis lazuli is one of my favorite colors in art. The way different civilizational spheres place a differing, sometimes opposing value upon different substances is always fascinating as well. An extreme example of that is the Spanish deeply cherishing gold vs. the Aztecs and Incas being less obsessed apart from valuing its decorative qualities. I guess lapis lazuli is another example of that, but without the financial dimensions of gold.
It really is a deeply interesting topic, and the thing about your example is that while the Spanish were simply greedy for it by then, this financial dimension came quite late in the game. It was originally associated with Divinity for many reasons that become really obvious when you're actually working with it – a truly miraculous substance, incorruptible and seemingly self-increasing (because you can spread it so unbelievably thin it just goes on and on). It really annoys me when people project their obsession with money on ancient temples that display a lot of gold – it's not there because they were hoarding wealth, but because it expressed the light and immortality of the Divine.
That's a beautiful way of understanding gold. I have the same issue a lot of the time with people who see gold in old churches in Europe and can only see a financial dimension. At this point, I assume anybody who says that is merely projecting their own view onto others. Because if they understood these other qualities, they wouldn't fixate on that.
100%. They're conditioned by a culture that worships money above all things.
Great article. It boggles my mind how this process was thought of in the first place. I wonder what the mineral composition differences are between the Afghanistan and the other lapis sources (I think you said Siberia and Chile?) are to make a color difference in the final product.
I wonder too, I don't know exactly but I imagine it's to do with slight variations in the overall composition; since the ground product sold as pigment is not pure lazurite, the difference in composition is visible in the final colour.
I’m always fascinated to wonder how people figured this out in the first place. So cool that you got to get your hands dirty with the actual process. Did it stain your hands blue?
Also, do modern paints use synthetic pigments? How else could they be sold so cheaply, given the labor involved in extracting ultramarine?
Modern paints absolutely use synthetic pigments. Synthetic ultramarine was discovered at some point during the industrial revolution and hit the art market like a bomb because suddenly gorgeous blue was supremely affordable. The only natural pigments still used in paint are ochres, and even they are now often synthesised (those are called Mars colours). Some brands that claim to use real minerals are basically ripping you off because the proportion of true mineral in them is infinitesimal. If you're familiar with the real stuff, you can tell immediately, but most people fall for it. It's not necessarily a bad thing to have synthetic colours as the natural stuff is not necessarily sustainable, but this is a large topic that requires proper research and awareness – I definitely wouldn't draw a straight line between the two, even though for my personal use I avoid synthetic pigments.
No, it's a mineral so it cannot stain the hands because it's simply powdered rock. Only a dye can stain!
What a beautiful article. I’d learned about the process in college but had never really been able to imagine it until now. After reading this with the comments, I now wonder if it had special associations in other cultures as well. For instance, there is a regional and time-specific style of interior design in Japan that favored ultramarine, which is highly unusual everywhere else. (http://www.seisonkaku.com/en/midokoro/shoken-no-ma.html). In my tea studies (Urasenke) we have discussed different interpretations of “wabi” aesthetics, like how Rikyu’s all-gold tea room still fits within that style, and how these colorful ultramarine rooms still evoke a sense of humble tranquility despite their richness and nobility. (I’m also curious about the idea that so many people accidentally confuse ultramarine with aquamarine, which happens very frequently with these Japanese rooms. Perhaps it’s a translation issue.)
I especially love your comparison between techniques, and the way you describe true ultramarine to be so vivid it seems self-replenishing. That’s a beautiful idea. Thank you so much for everything you shared here.
That's really interesting about the ultramarine rooms in Japan, but I suspect they are inspired by indigo rather than anything to do with lapis lazuli, as indigo dye plays a huge part in the various Japanese arts involving textile dyeing.
So interesting, thanks! Wonderful to see that glorious blue appear from the process, and interesting to reflect on the traditional view of elements as compared the modern: both seem to have their strengths and weaknesses, not to mention mythologies. Some of the strengths of the traditional one is that is unitive instead of fragmentary, democratic instead of siloed away by increasingly specialised professions, and that it’s weird and cool and interesting where chemistry is sterile and abstract. Nothing against chemistry per se, but *all* language is metaphor, and the language of fire, earth, water, air and their appetites and habits is much more approachable than the language of hyper-quantification and hyper-precision that science worships.
Both systems are ‘science,’ in fact, and in the etymological sense of paths to knowledge.
I long for the day when we’re able to embrace the mystery and shadows of the traditional view as well as the glaring white light of modern science. I think the world will be a nicer place for it.
Humans thrive in the shadows.
Beautifully put, I agree completely!
I recall a BBC Four documentary series about colours in art history (https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00wskdk), there was a bit about lapis preparation in the Blue episode, but nothing as detailed as this. Thanks!
Sounds like a fascinating programme, but I'm not surprised they couldn't cover the full detail, there are so many pigments to cover!
I still keep re-reading Philip Ball's 'Bright Earth', which started my interest in the topic of colours/pigments.
I love that book, it's absolutely brilliant. You might enjoy the Spike Bucklow book I mentioned above, but I need to read it again myself in the light of all I've learned since.