Throughout this essay I plan to discuss the material translation of Berlin Blue using the case study of Thirty-six views of Mount Fuji by Zen Hokusai Iitsu. Henry Smith has argued that without the importation of the chemical pigment Berlin Blue, these vivid expressions would not have been possible. With Hokusai undoubtedly the best known Japanese painter; I plan to discuss how bero facilitated such a successful shift from painting to print. Furthermore, I will explore how this material lead to “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” becoming one of the most reproduced, circulated and thus instantly recognisable prints in the world.
Commonly known as Prussian blue, this pigment was discovered “between 1704 and 1706 in a dingy room in Berlin by alchemist Jacob Diesbach”. Jacob was intending to produce a simple batch of cochineal red lake, using iron sulphate and potash. Due to adulterated potash, a different synthetic compound was made. Potassium ferrocyanide, now known as Prussian blue, was a revelation, produced completely by chance. “Nothing is perhaps more peculiar than the process by which one obtains Prussian blue, and it must be owned that, if chance had not taken a hand, a profound theory would be necessary to invent it.” To this end, the complex formula remained a secret until 1724, controlling supply and ensuring its creators maintained a monopoly over the material for sale. This lead to imitation Prussian blue, usually in the form of Indigo. Ultramarine, from Lapis lazuli was still prized above Prussian blue and all other shades. However, it was immensely expensive, for a time, more so than gold. The sheer cost of Ultramarine predisposed itself for use in commission based work, for an elite audience. Furthermore, due to its natural origins, supply was unreliable, limiting its ability to be used for smaller scale projects. By contrast, 1750 saw Prussian blue being produced across Europe and on a much larger scale; it began to be exported globally for one tenth of the price of Ultramarine. The cheaper price and non toxic nature enabled the pigment to be used prolifically, leading to what I will later discuss as The Blue Revolution. Due to its abundance it was even occasionally confused with other blue pigments or mis sold; this has lead to limited editions of stamps where Prussian blue ink has been used by accident, thus creating a market for rare “Prussian blue stamps”.
Domestically Prussian blue can be seen within wallpaper, house paints and textile dyes. It’s use as a fairly economical textile dye lead to its use in the uniform for the Prussian army, with dark blue continuing to be a colour symbolic of the army across Germany until the first world war. Furthermore, John Herschel used the pigment in contact with photosensitive paper to create “white marks on blue ground” coining the term blueprint. However, Prussian blue was not a perfect pigment, concerns about discolouration were raised soon after it came into production.
It is labile in the presence of alkaline media. Furthermore, Still, Prussian blue remained one of the most durable pigments on the market, with most artists being willing to forgo the risk in order to achieve the cool intensity it offered. For Harding, Prussian blue is one of the most intense pigments an artist can use: ‘If you don’t know how to handle it, the colour will creep into just about everything on your palette. It can be like painting with a nuclear weapon,’ he says. However, we note this almost explosive quality of colour to be desirable within Hokusai’s wave. ‘Prussian blue has a high tint power,’ explains Michael Harding, a master paint-maker and an expert on oil paints. Because of this, an artist would ‘need to use only a minute amount when painting a sky, for example.’ Whilst this makes it more economical, to dilute a pigment in this way ‘makes it much more vulnerable to UV light.’
“A deep, rather cool colour with tremendous tinting strength and ability to create subtle tones, it was furthermore able to be layered with other colours, behaving well with lead white or combining with yellow pigments like orpiment and gamboge”. It’s ability to be layered with other colours allowed for its use within watercolour painting, where process necessitates the ability to layer colour. Furthermore, “the powder..when in a binder such as acrylic or oil adheres to a surface” meaning it could also be used in oil painting. Prussian blue is present in Antoine Watteau’s 1717 painting Pilgrimage to Cythera, ‘one of the earliest known appearances of the pigment,’ says Alan Wintermute. The popularity of Prussian blue hadn’t waned by the time J.M.W. Turner began painting his turbulent seascapes in the late 18th century. Prussian blue is famously seen within Van Gogh’s starry night; the vivid blue of the sky forming a dynamic contrast to the yellow of the starts. In his pigment compendium of 1835, George Field called “this rather modern pigment” “deep and powerful.. of vast body and considerable transparency.” Many artists turned to Prussian blue to convey deeper emotions. Pablo Picasso used Prussian blue throughout his blue period, in addition to green and grey pigments, ‘to cast a melancholy shade on his works,’ says Allegra Bettini. Its popularity was such that it even permeated Japan’s closed borders, proving a major inspiration for Katsushika Hokusai.
The influence of this pigment was however even greater outside of Europe. Berlin blue spread to the new world and Asia in the mid-eighteenth century in small quantities. Even though berlin blue had been known in Japan for well over half a century, it began to really appear in the bunsei era. This may have been because in the early 1800s, a Guangzhou entrepreneur deciphered the recipe and began manufacturing the pigment in China at a much lower cost. Before this its appearance in woodblock prints was still unusual. It was used within Japanese woodblock prints in both the aizuri-e monochrome blue prints and colourful Nishiki-e prints. Furthermore, whilst the blue revolution started before bero, with an increasing generalised use of the colour blue, with the help of Hokusai as a catalyst, blue and its material form was used more than ever before. Before bero there was zurite and smalt which provided rich hues but only in particle sizes that were too coarse to form smooth colours when printed with woodblocks. Furthermore, as noted with ultramarine, mineral pigments were too expensive, which prohibited its use for ordinary nishiki-e. Dayflower and indigo paper vegetable dyes were thus used, however they also had their own drawbacks: light sensitivity leading to the pigment turning brown or grey, with a lack of depth and dullness.
In his iconic seascape The Great Wave off Kanagawa, Hokusai used bero. “The pictures’ greatest novelty” was that it was an aizurie, “a term that identified them as being printed with a newly imported aniline dye known in Japan as bero, Berlin blue, that produced a more intense, saturated hue than domestically produced indigo.” However, he also mixed it with traditional indigo to produce subtle gradations in the roaring waters. Through the use of this foreign pigment, Hokusai employed a material strategy to introduce an element of the exotic. Whilst this scene was one of familiarity, visible to the residents of Edo and often represented by local artists, this pigment was something new. Whilst the subject matter represented the local, the use of bero pigment spoke of the global. This demarcates the exotic colour revolution, the blue revolution, Hokusai craved. To this end, when Hokusai produced the 36 views, he was already an old man. Therefore, through these prints and the use of this new pigment, he sought to immortalise himself in print. The distinct qualities of Prussian blue make it particularly attractive for an artist looking to work in a restricted chromatic palette without sacrificing intensity. ‘It’s a very roomy colour,’ explains Kassia St Clair. ‘You can use it as a glaze over other colours, and it is generally very versatile.’
Due to the material nature of the woodblock, where the matrix is of copies of this print were quickly produced and sold cheaply. Despite the fact that it was created at a time when Japanese trade was heavily restricted, Hokusai’s print displays the influence of Dutch art, and proved to be inspirational for many artists working in Europe later in the nineteenth century.
Under the Wave off Kanagawa is part of a series of prints titled Thirty-six views of Mount Fuji, which Hokusai made between 1830 and 1833. It is a polychrome (multi-colored) woodblock print, made of ink and color on paper that is approximately 10 x 14 inches. All of the images in the series feature a glimpse of the mountain, but as you can see from this example, Mount Fuji does not always dominate the frame. Instead, here, the foreground is filled with a massive cresting wave. The threatening wave is pictured just moments before crashing down on to three fishing boats below. Under the Wave off Kanagawa is full of visual play. The mountain, made tiny by the use of perspective, appears as if it too will be swallowed up by the wave. Hokusai’s optical play can also be lighthearted, and the spray from top of the crashing wave looks like snow falling on the mountain. Hokusai has arranged the composition to frame Mount Fuji. The curves of the wave and hull of one boat dip down just low enough to allow the base of Mount Fuji to be visible, and the white top of the great wave creates a diagonal line that leads the viewers eye directly to the peak of the mountain top.
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