A Scholar Proves Research Can Make a Mountain Out of a Color
Michel Pastourea. Yellow: The History of a Color. $39.95. 242pp, color paintings, hardback. ISBN: 978-069119825-5. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019.
*****
The only other mention of “yellow” in this set of reviews is one regarding “yellow fever”, and yet here is an entire book dedicated to this color. This book is part of Princeton’s series dedicated to the various colors in art. The portrait of a reclining man in yellow on this particular cover drew my attention more than others. The man’s attitude might match my own reverie more than I’d like to admit, though his might be induced by smoking, while mine has been brought about by excessive reading alone. I looked through every page earlier when I was writing a few fiction stories and needed visual inspiration. When I was younger, I would go to parks or travel to different cities or landscapes for inspiration, but now I find that much more active inspiring is achieved by studying art or researching books accessible without spending time and gas on the road. As I was browsing through the pictures searching to details that might color my story, I observed that there really is a great deal of scholarly discussion that can be applied even to a color such as “yellow”. The heavy use of “yellow” in abstract art and ancient Egyptian wall paintings are curious, but then there is the use of yellow gold, which made me ponder if a psychological preference for this color has made this into a metal more highly prized than silver or metals of other less radiant colors. It is mesmerizing to look at Egyptian tombs made entirely of gold metal (28): it would be odd if modern humans spent this much money and labor on a single burial box, even if the occupant was a billionaire, though why billionaires do not bury themselves in golden crypts today is puzzling as well. I have used some of the medieval European and ancient Chinese paintings with gold elements on some of my designed book covers, and these are indeed some of my more attractive covers. As the text explains, across the ages, colors gained religious significance in rituals and in religious laws. Some religions such as Judaism forbit the depiction of humans, while others such as Christianity developed rules regarding the required and forbidden utilizations of various colors: thus, most of us use black for burials and white for weddings today (even if these do not reflect medieval symbolisms). Michel Pastoureau writes: “beginning in the ninth century, gold and brilliant, saturated colors made their appearance into the rich fabrics and garments used for worship”, making yellow less symbolically-specific than white and other defined colors (78). Even without reading these details, this is a beautiful book to behold. In fact, I think I’ll leave it open by my wall to serve as a decoration on the page that depicts a gold-laden anonymous portrait called, “The Family of Henry VIII” (1545) (142). It was drawn two years into his last marriage, after he had killed or otherwise disposed of his first five wives. So, here is his last wife, Chatherine Parr, who outlasted him by apparently looking downwards and enjoying the gold she was given. This should be a useful reminder for me to glimpse as I contemplate the relationship between “servant” authors such as Fletcher and Munday and monarchs such as Elizabeth I and James I.
Michel Pastoureau is celebrated as “a renowned authority on the history of color”: if I knew this was a career option, I might have majored in the study of color. Pastoureau’s previous volumes in this series covered: blue, black, green, and red. This historically explained collection of paintings is “Focusing on European societies, with comparisons from East Asia, India, Africa, and South America. The changes of this color’s significance are recorded with an explanation for how social, cultural and political changes altered its utilization or lack thereof in “art, religion, fashion, literature, and science.” The significance of this particular color is pumped up from its current low standing: “In antiquity, yellow was almost sacred, a symbol of light, warmth, and prosperity. It became highly ambivalent in medieval Europe: greenish yellow came to signify demonic sulfur and bile, the color of forgers, lawless knights, Judas, and Lucifer—while warm yellow recalled honey and gold, serving as a sign of pleasure and abundance.” During a brief period when I was interested in “pagan” religions or witchcraft, I remember studying these types of symbols closely. And during my Hassidic Judaic education, I recall being lectured regarding the colors suitable and unsuitable to female modesty, so these ideas resonate with my subconscious fears and attractions. “In Asia, yellow has generally had a positive meaning. In ancient China, yellow clothing was reserved for the emperor, while in India the color is associated with happiness.” The parts of this book that explain how only the monarchy was allowed to wear purple in England, and these other laws over color are particularly curious. There are similar rules that favor the rich today, but they appear normal to us; considering these obscure color rules of the past stress how wrong these modern discriminations are. Sleeping in a tent in the middle of a national park for free for a wealthy person is perfectly legal, but sleeping in a tent on a street in San Francisco has been criminalized with up to a misdemeanor, and the likely loss of said tent and all other worldly possessions. Is this really much better than not being allowed to wear yellow clothing in front of the king? “Above all, yellow is the color of Buddhism, whose temple doors are marked with it.” This is a curious perspective: modern companies choose sets of colors as their brand-identity, but I guess religions as well as states are much better in this game, as they have retained proprietary rights to their preferred color-codes for centuries if not millennia.
This book features one of the most elaborate and “striking” designs of all of the books I have reviewed. The paper and printing are so elaborate, it makes the images appear as close to the originals as they would look from across a gallery floor. The language describing these meanings is designed for the general public and if you do not speak English, it is also available in “more than thirty languages.” If you are contemplating going to a museum, or purchasing a painting for millions for your private collection, this book is going to involve less gas or less investment, and the outcome might be more nourishing.