I’m always fascinated by Pantone’s colour of the year and, perhaps this year more than ever, in the context of my current thinking about the aesthetic and historical implications of particular shades and hues for our Allover club. Pantone’s chosen colour of 2023 is Viva Magenta 18-1750, an intriguing, purple-ish red, or red-ish purple, which, Pantone argues, “presents a balance between warm and cool.” But how does Viva Magenta capture the particular spirit of the moment? According to Pantone, in its series of slick and impressive presentations introducing the “Magentaverse”, Viva Magenta is is a colour that suggests a “verve for life, “connects us to original matter” and is “rooted in the primordial . . . invoking the forces of nature.” Colour is, as Pantone’s Leatrice Eiseman states in her introduction to the launch of Viva Magenta, an extremely powerful force, that can instantly connect an appreciative audience to a wide range of cultural values and meanings. But what exactly is the substance of the “original matter” — the meanings and the values — to which we are connected via Viva Magenta?
One thing that particularly interests me about the “natural,” “primordial,” meanings that Pantone projects onto Viva Magenta is that they are actually the precise opposite of the way the shade was understood, when it was first introduced and named a little over 160 years ago. Indeed, rather than being linked to ideas of the natural and the organic, Magenta was originally firmly associated with what was synthetic and artificial. To understand why, we must return to June 4th 1859, when a violent battle was being fought in a small Lombardian town between the Austrian troops under Hungarian nobleman, Ferencz Gyulai, and the allied forces of Napoleon III’s French empire, in support of Italian unification. The French secured a narrow victory at this notoriously bloody encounter in which more than 6000 Austrian troops were killed in the hand-to-hand combat of swords and bayonets. John Ruskin wrote in the Scotsman of the horror of the battle’s aftermath, with the corpses of “men . . . lying . . . in the form of torn flesh and shattered bones among the rice marshes of the Novarese.” A few months later, the battle had been commemorated in the name of a brand new synthetic dye, whose rich, purplish-reds were meant to suggest solidarity with the Italian cause, and the hard-won victory at the small town of Magenta.
But where did this new artificial colour come from? A few years earlier, in 1856, William Perkin’s experiments, with coal tar (a waste product of industrial gas lighting) had resulted in the creation of a purplish sludge, which the young chemist discovered to be light resistant and colourfast when applied to cloth. The discovery of “Perkin’s Mauve” marked the beginning of the aniline dye rush of the 1850s and ‘60s, in which industrial chemists competed to maximise the commercial potential of the oxidised residue of fossil fuels. The first aniline dyes were all bright shades of purple: a colour whose considerable expense, when derived from natural sources, had previously made it the wealthy’s exclusive preserve.
But the new aniline processes meant that everyone could purchase and wear purple, and popular variants of these bold bright, synthetic shades rapidly proliferated, in fashion, in art, in interior decoration, and of course in knitting too.
When a new red-ish, purple-ish aniline variant was discovered, some manufacturers gave it evocative floral names like Roseine and Fuschine: monikers which suggested the confluence of the organic and the the technological, of nature and artifice. But it was the word Magenta which eventually became firmly associated with this brand-new hue of purplish-red, which then went on to become one of the most popular (and commercially contested) colours of the later nineteenth century.
Whatever one’s allegiances, naming a colour after a battle is not an unambiguous act, and Magenta’s bloody associations certainly meant that the name might seem, even to those who supported Italian unification, somewhat distasteful. In his 1869 lecture series The Queen of the Air, for example, John Ruskin explored the historical resonances of purple, a colour whose classical etymology he describes as being caught somewhere between “blackness and fire,” and whose hues were associated, in ancient Greece and Rome, with ideas of death and excess. “We moderns,” says Ruskin “who have got our purple out of coal instead of the sea . . .have completed the shadow and the fear of it by giving it a name from battle—Magenta.”
But the new colour’s bellicose associations did not seem to detract from its widespread appeal, and throughout the 1860s, countless industrial chemists rushed to reproduce and capitalise upon Magenta: the new, bold colour of the moment. Soon, vivid, red-ish purple was one of the most sought-after shades for the dresses, mantles, hats and gloves of fashionable consumers across Europe and the United States who all seemed keen to deck themselves out in Magenta over the course of the decades that followed. But the shade’s very success meant that it also began to court controversy.
If the market for Magenta was rapidly expanding, then so too were the number of commercial disputes in which it became involved. In 1860, the rush to develop efficient industrial processes for producing Magenta had resulted in the sale of a patent for the then considerable sum of £2000 to Simpson, Maule and Nicholson, England’s largest manufacturer of industrial dyes. Because the anhydrous arsenic involved in the patented process was both recoverable and reusable, the dyeing method was particularly cheap and efficient. Protective of their patent, Simpson, Maule and Nicholson “vowed to take proceedings against all persons who employ arsenic acid for the production of Magenta dye.” The following year, they had to do just that, when it was discovered that a rival manufacturer, Wilson and Fletcher, were also using arsenic to produce a similar shade. What rights, what substances, what processes, were involved in the Magenta patent? Was it possible to lay claim to a colour? Could a single company ever own a hue? Simpson v Wilson (1862), was just the beginning of a series of drawn out and largely inconclusive battles, in which rival industrial competitors fought over Magenta, not with swords and bayonets, but with discursive weapons, legal and scientific.
Magenta is a really interesting example of how a particular colour can capture a particular moment. In 1860, its synthetic boldness made it seem the very embodiment of novelty and progress: completely new, incredibly modern, profoundly desirable. And while it was fashionable consumption that initially fuelled Magenta’s popularity (as well as the fractious and costly disputes among those who manufactured it), the aniline dye rush also had implications for industrial and scientific advancement more generally. For, out of the same coal tar chemistry that produced Magenta emerged drugs like synthetic aspirin, modern disinfectants, and the principles of what was later to become chemotherapy. As Punch put it:
There’s hardly a thing a man can name
Of beauty or use in life’s small game,
But you can extract in alembro or jar
From the physical basis of black coal tar:
Oil and ointment and wax and wine,
And the lovely colours called aniline:
You can make anything, from salve to a star
(If you only know how) from black coal tar.
As new aniline shades proliferated in the nineteenth-century’s late decades, the naming of colours often seemed to be as much of an industry as their production. Colours were named after places, and people, after famous encounters and fashionable ideas, and while everyone knows what Magenta is, who now could describe the distinctive hues which, in the 1870s and 80s, were popularly known as Hermosa, Maria Louise, or Eosine? That a word associated with a particular battle firmly stuck, as it were, to a bright red-ish purple, and that the word Magenta was then carried forward as a colour that’s still familiar today, is probably a result of its use as one of the process inks used in the CMYK subtractive methods, which were introduced, toward the turn of the twentieth century, in the printing of photographic images, comics, and magazines.
Magenta retains its ubiquity today in diverse fields from graphic design to scientific imaging. Neither warm or cool, red or blue, it is a colour that permanently vacillates between two poles, or sides which, in many parts of the world, now carry familiar political associations. And perhaps it is this characteristic in-between-y position that inspired Pantone to select Viva Magenta as the shade of 2023, for it is—perhaps uniquely—a colour that can suggest an idea of neutrality while simultaneously being, in its bold, bright self, the complete opposite of a neutral. Both life and death, nature and artifice, since its inception in 1859, Magenta has revealed a curious ability to endure, as well as to soak up meaning, to somehow suggest everything, everywhere, all at once. It’s never an easy colour, but it’s certainly unquestionably present. Perhaps that’s why it seems an appropriate choice for the chromatic turn of 2023.
Further reading
Philip Ball, Bright Earth: The Invention of Colour (2001; 2009)
Laura Anne Kalba, Color in the Age of Impressionism: Commerce, Technology and Art (2017)
On John Ruskin’s purples, see Stephen Bann’s essay, “Ruskin’s Basket of Strawberries” in John Dixon Hunt and Faith Holland eds, The Ruskin Polygon (1982)
On the John Singer Sargent portrait, see Jessica Regan, “A crying tint of rose”
On Magenta yarn in early knitting patterns, see Eléonore Riego de la Branchardière, The Andalusian Knitting and Netting Book (1861)
Your first Allover pattern of the new year lands on Monday 9th.
Oh another fascinating essay on colour. I was caught by the comment that purple is between ‘blackness and fire’ , food for thought. Thank you again.
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Fascinating, both the origin of the name “Magenta” and the origin of the hue. I had no idea on either count.
Meanwhile, I must be in tune with the zeitgeist, or at least with Pantone, as I knit up my first Astragal last month in a purply/mauve/magenta palette!
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Another great essay, Kate. I very much enjoy the depth & breadth of what you write. The content is always extremely interesting, & very enlightening, especially on the historical side. I know some of the science mentioned in the topics, but little of the history. I love learning this.
Magenta for me is an intriguing colour full of antitheses. It is not blue nor is it red. It is neither warm nor cold. It connotes life but can also suggest the macabre. Overall, it is an exciting, vibrant, exotic colour & one that I love. Thank you for detailing the background to this beautiful colour.
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I’ve always associated magenta with the most difficult module of the reading scheme used in my primary school in the 70s. As an avid reader, and a bit of a swot, it was my goal to master it. More recently I have had need to consult the UK Government Magenta Book https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/the-magenta-book. Your essay has really made me think about why the colour magenta was chosen in both instances. Thank you for all your essays they are truly fascinating.
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magenta has long been a favorite color of mine, though i grew up calling it hot pink, oh, the 80s! also a big fan of puce: horrible name, but great shade! i tend to go for bolder colors over pastels (again due to the 80s and it’s preference by the preppies/townies and my desire to rebel against their style). also love jade used against pinks. the classic red/green contrast, but much more fun! hello foxglove and ardnamurchan! would love to see the schiehallion palette expanded with a truer green… any chance of that coming in 2023?
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Really fascinating research; thank you Kate. It reminded me of this article on the ubiquitous (in the UK) children’s paracetamol suspension, Calpol: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/jun/04/why-parents-are-addicted-to-calpol. Calpol’s very distinctive colour is almost magenta and as the article reflects, the marketing of this product has involved forging powerful associations between its colour and both parental anxiety and reassurance.
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Fascinating! Thanks, Lucy
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I don’t know if you are familiar with the book The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair. It is a fascinating study of 75 shades, dyes, and hues; including the story of each: history, fashion, politics as well as other aspects of the colors’ lives. It’s well worth a read.
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A good book!
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Sorry English is not my native language. I’m just under the spell of your publications . Thank you very much.
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Dear Kate such an interesting post!!! love the way you writes!! thank you
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I really enjoyed your essay on the colour Magenta. I have always looked upon the the Pantone colour of the year with dubious eyes. It seems to ‘smack’ of too much commercialism for my taste. Knowing the history of the colour’s development has made it ‘more’ than just a colour. Thank you.
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As always, I have enjoyed your delve into history! I love hearing about the origins of things that we take for granted today. It is just fascinating! Thank you!
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I have been so enjoying your essays on color, so much that I tried to sign up after you had started. I was just wondering today what you thought of magenta as the “color of the year” and now I know, thank you! I have always looked at the hype of color of the year with the opinion that it just makes finding the color you actually want more difficult. Color is a fascinating subject!
Jane
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I don’t know – but isn’t all colour – natural/synthetic/chemical or the next best thing an attempt to best – or at least equal the best that nature has to offer…..
Magenta might be rhododendrons/azaleas or that special seaweed or indeed a mushroom at dawn…..
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Wonderful read, as always! I especially enjoyed the photos of the dress, velvet coat and painting featuring magenta and learning the origin of the name.
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I have been wondering about the research and preparation that goes into your essays, Kate. Hmmm… she planned/test knitted all the patterns the previous year — the essays too? So this morning’s essay was one answer: Pantone announced the color Dec. 1 — this well written and researched essay in a MONTH, and with all that was going on! I also enjoyed the debunking of Pantone — I waded all the way through the article you linked to in your The Money of Colour essay (“current licensing disagreement between Adobe and Pantone”) in which the writer details how the Color of the Year is all about their brand promotion and market share.
I always thought magenta shades were artificial — like neon orange — until I got to hike through the rhododendrons and azaleas in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was a tunnel of brilliant blossoms and it hummed (bees!)
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Even neon orange exists in nature! A few years ago I was on a zoological excursion in Costa Rica and there we saw this cicada:
https://gallery.kunzweb.net/picture.php?/7575/category/1470
Incredible, isn’t it?
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And also the other neon colours exist in nature:
And thank you Kate for an other excellent essay!
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Wow!
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Wow! Amazingly intense and, as always, I wonder… why is Nature so extravagant with color!
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I too was amazed to read your report on the Pantone claims for the ‘organicness’ of magenta. But there we are, clearly the teaching of history and chemistry has gone seriously downhill since . . . and when have Advertisers bothered with easy-to-obtain facts?
That said, it’s a good colour, and one I shall enjoy wearing this year, together with my red hat, that doesn’t go!
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So glad to read this first thing in the morning! Magenta has always been my favorite color, the word itself makes me smile and feel so content (primordial nature). I have always seen both sides of everything, knowing that nothing is ever all black or white, but a definite grey. It sometimes makes it difficult to feel a sense of belonging when you stand in between, and this has been especially difficult in our deeply divided society the last several years. Nevertheless I knitted a magenta hat that I wear almost every single day. Yes to Magenta!
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I really enjoyed your post and your polite skepticism of the pantone rhetoric about this color. I read their entire release about the color of the year after your post and your research gave me a useful perspective. I snorted at “Viva Magenta’s organic origins hail from the cochineal beetle,” given it’s background in coal tar. But that prepared me to not be totally shocked that they started their press release talking about the color’s connection to vibrant movements addressing climate change and then ended with tips for using the color on plastic and packaging for enticing consumers.
My own cynicism aside, I enjoyed this history very much. Thank you!
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Hurrah for this amazing essay – and for so many inspiring images speaking to its theme. I especially appreciate your debunking of the primordial associations Pantone have spun around this colour of the year, and learning more about the industrial/economic background behind the colour and its entry into fashion and culture. That velvet dress is just so luminous and reminds me of a skirt I had when I was a kid, whose colour was neither quite red nor purple… baby me did not know about magenta but, looking back, that’s exactly what it was. The colour of the year thing is interesting – I enjoy the conundrum of the Pantone book of the twentieth century that attempts to document the 1900s in various palettes. I vacillate endlessly between being oddly compelled (hello 1990s palettes! I remember you!) and also disturbed by a somewhat reductive, contrived and corporate sense of TIME THROUGH COLOUR. I feel similarly about the colour of the year – both repelled and compelled by the idea that “all of the everything of an epoch” can be expressed in a single colour. It’s really great to read your thoughts on it this year, thank you for sharing them and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
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Thank you, Kate, for this informative post. Never before did I know of the origin of the color name Magenta.
In the midst of crazy news on this January 6, it’s good to learn something new, while wondering what changes tonight’s full moon may encourage.
Happy New Year!
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Thank you for this essay. I love the knowledge you share with us.
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Hi- Reading through the email it said the first pattern of 2023 for Allover Club is coming out Jan9. I do want to join but haven’t seen any sign up? Did I miss something or is sign up at some other time?
Thank you and Happy New Year! Ilene
>
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Hi Ilene, I’m afraid the club is now closed for new subscribers – help@katedaviesdesigns.com
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Too cool! I’ve been studying the difference between CMY and RYB colour wheels, and am curious about the history of the two, so this added an important piece to the puzzle.
I am also stymied as to how Pantone could claim the colour to be “primordial” or whatever. You could just as easily call it alien and esoteric! The picture you juxtaposed with this statement highlights this, looking quite alien to me!
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Such interesting articles on the history of colour, this and previous ones.
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Thank you for your lovely essay, but in particular for the glorious portrait by John Singer Sargent. It’s one I’d never seen before.
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A wonderfully informative piece as ever, Kate. Thank you. I knew the word ‘eosine’ from my teens [early 1970s] when one of the lipstick manufacturers said in their ads that their latest brand did NOT contain eosine, because it reacted with proteins in the skin and changed colour on each individual – claiming their lipsticks were ‘true’ colours. Also I understand that ‘anilie’ comes from the word for blue. The Egyptians called their river the Nile becaus eit was blue from the indigo plants growing in the water. So the Blue Nile is actually the Blue Blue! Happy New year [ad I agree with Karen – please publish these wonderful Colour Essays in a book]
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A fascinating essay, Kate. Magenta has always been a favourite of mine, but I had no idea it had such origins. I do enjoy the historical depth to your essays.
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Thank you! Your post reminded me of a book I loved as a young girl, about a (real) racing horse named Anilin (https://www.horseracingnation.com/horse/Anilin). He was born in the Soviet Union a hundred years after the arrival of aniline to very good parents and everyone expected him to become a champion. His mother was Analogichnaya so he was supposed to be named A-something as well. But the newborn foal looked so rickety and unpromising that the stud farm people were extremely disappointed. So they didn’t name him Anemone or whatever nice names they had had in mind but Anilin — perceived at that moment not as the wonder dye anymore but as a cheap synthetic toxic nasty chemical. (He did become a great champion anyway, actually.)
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This article was a really interesting read, thank you for sharing your research. I wounder if your colour Foxglove in Millarochy Tweed is close to the colour magenta?
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I was just thinking about that this morning, Anne. Yes – it is!
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Re: Magenta/Milarrochy
Kate, interesting – sharing thoughts between Scotland and Sweden at the same time. I once bought 1 piece of Foxglow, with some other colours of Milarrochy, put it in the window – open – to see the colour, left for a while and after that it has totally disappeared! I suppose and wish that some happy bird has made a lovely nest of it. Now my plan is to make Treit.
Thank you for your lovely patterns and yarns. I found your designs years ago in a swedish magazine and was astouned by Carbeth cardigan and its bold design. I’ve made one and always plan to make an other one. I also love my soft an beautiful Sarkle-Riach in Ooskit.
I wish you a very happy new year!
Best
Anne Hallberg
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I like to think of that bird’s nest, somewhere, with its bright strand of foxglove!
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Thank you for this post! Magenta always finds its way onto my painting palette. It can play hard with so many colors but remain clean. Softer than red and less difficult than purple to work with.
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Beautifully written piece as ever, and absolutely fascinating to learn that Magenta is a relatively “new” colour, I had always assumed it was ancient since it seems so key to colour palettes and mixing. I hate to say I don’t like a colour, but it’s not one I would choose, preferring a clearer pink or true red and I’ve never quite “believed” it as a colour and now I think I know why.
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Another fascinating read! Love Ruskin’s description of magenta as “between blackness and fire” . I got married, in 1983, wearing a Mary Quant velvet suit. It is gorgeous and hangs in my wardrobe still – a size 8 which I no longer am……… 😿
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“Was it possible to lay claim to a colour? Could a single company ever own a hue?”
The german phone company Deutsche Telekom trademarked a specific shade of Magenta (RAL 4010 ) in 1995, it’s called Telekom-Magenta over here. They sue every company that uses it.
Magenta is one of the color pillars in the offset printing business and part of the CMYK (Cyan Magenta Yellow Black) color model (Euroscale). Magenta has accompanied me throughout my working life, and I like it as long as it’s thoroughly mixed with blue, yellow and/or black. ;- )
Thank you for this interesting essay.
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Fascinating, Kate – historically and for stimulating reflection on my relationship with colour. I had a supposedly magenta duffle coat when I was a child and I loved telling people that even when the usual reaction was ‘huh, who does she think she is…..’! Stimulated me to re-read some of your earlier essays too. I’ll say it again, fascinating! Thanks so much for all your research on this
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Your research and writing are just magnificent. I love the depth of your essays and if you ever combine these colour essays into a book, I shall be buying it. Thank you.
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Magenta is the colour I will forever associate with my mum.
Definitely her favourite colour pop for “dressed up” events like weddings, she always manages to look glamorous when she is wearing magenta, even at the grand old age of 93.
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