In 1704, while searching for a better crimson dye, the German chemist Diesbach inadvertently created Prussian Blue, the first modern synthetic pigment. His discovery marked the beginning of a new era in paints. Although he sought to guard his secret, the knowledge of the manufacturing process soon spread to France and England. With the Industrial Revolution, the laboratory and the studio were merging; chemistry was the prevailing passion, and experimentation was producing magic results in brilliant technicolour. In 1764, Robert Dossie, (an eighteenth century Martha Stewart?) published the formula for Prussian Blue in his book, A Handmaid to the Arts, a manual of recipes and techniques intended to help the artist prepare his own paints and mediums.

In France, Vauquelin, a chemist working with the newly discovered ore, crocoite, isolated a metallic element that he named ?chrome? because it produced brightly coloured compounds. Within a few years, he had synthesized the element and manufactured several different yellow pigments, (hence ?Chromium Yellow?) an orange, and a ?Viridian,? or green of remarkable brilliance. By the end of the eighteenth century, the French Minister of the Interior, Jean-Antoine Chaptal, an avid chemist, recognized the lucrative potential to be gained from the development of new pigments, and offered subsidies for research into synthetic alternatives for traditional colours. In 1802, the chemist Thénard, came up with a practical way of manufacturing Cobalt Blue. Encouraged by the discovery, the French Government offered a prize of 6000 francs to whoever was first to invent an inexpensive substitute for Ultramarine, the world?s costliest colour. The award was claimed in 1828 by Jean-Baptiste Guimet, and with his discovery, a luxury pigment became one of the cheapest.

In response to snowballing demand, pigment labs and factories sprang up throughout Europe and Britain. However not all pigments were created equally, and a reputable and consistent product was sometimes difficult to obtain. Despite Dossie?s manual, most artists were not chemists, and lacked the skills to differentiate between pigments. And thus the profession of ?colourman? emerged, offering a chemist?s expertise to the artist in need, testing pigments in the lab, selling them, and even producing ready-mixed paints in leather bladders and glass syringes.

In London, George Field acted as colourman to Turner, Constable, Lawrence, and the Pre-Raphaelites. The author of an influential treatise on the chemical properties of pigments, Chromatography, Field collaborated closely with his clients. Turner, who was always eager to try new colours, wanted them as soon as they became available, and Field was quick to oblige. (Although at times, his choices proved less than ideal, since some of Turner?s paintings have suffered from transitory pigments.).

Three hundred years after Diesbach shook the world with his discovery of Prussian Blue, his pigment has been all but superceded. But in 2003, the FDA Administration began stockpiling Prussian Blue for reasons that its German inventor could never have imagined. According to research, ten capsules of Prussian Blue provide an effective antidote for radiation poisoning, and thus in anticipation of possible terrorist attacks, the American government is showing renewed interest in this, the oldest of our modern synthetic pigments. Now, how to translate that into a painting?

Contributed by Aubin van Berckel
aubin@opusframing.com