WHITE

Not generally considered to be a colour today, white was undoubtedly a colour in the Renaissance. White can be both ubiquitous, mixed with almost every other colour, and emphasized as its own hue and imbued with meanings of purity or hope. Renaissance colour theory opposed ancient views that relegated white to a secondary position — in the Renaissance, white dominated.

There were a few different types of white available on the market, but lead white seems to have been the standard for the artist seeking a highly saturated, opaque white. Other options included white made from limestone, chalk, or calcined oyster shells, but these alternatives could not rival the desirable characteristics of lead white and so were less frequently used. Making lead white was a lengthy process in which sheets of lead were sprinkled with urine and vinegar and left in a box underneath a pile of horse dung for a month before a white powder could be scraped off. Artists’ handbooks recommend grinding the resulting powder as finely as possible for best results.

Despite the time that it took to make this pigment, lead white was relatively inexpensive when compared to colours such as red, blue, or green. The materials to make white were not rare or precious, and they did not need to be sourced from thousands of miles away or found in dangerous conditions (though the paint itself was highly toxic). As a result, lead white was used liberally and consistently throughout the Renaissance, while other colours may have varied in composition as the centuries progressed.

White seems to appear mostly on or around women. Contemporary poet and author Agnolo Firenzuola (1493-1543) argued that white was one of the colours needed by an artist to depict the perfect woman. The association of white with women was also furthered by cosmetic practices at this time. Lead white was popular for both paint and in cosmetics, despite its toxicity. Cakes of the dried pigment would be ground and mixed with a liquid medium before application to the face, producing the pale complexion that was prized at this time. This bust of St. Anastasia exemplifies many beauty ideals for the Renaissance woman: a high forehead, blonde hair, light eyes, and pale skin. The red blush of her lips and cheeks are emphasized by the contrast to the pearly white of her skin.

In polychrome sculpture, besides women, angels are also shown with pale complexions and wearing white. As angels do not occupy a physical form, they can oscillate between the masculine and the feminine and resist categorization. Valdambrino’s Gabriel is swathed in white robes trimmed with gold and red. Gabriel’s counterpart, a sculpture of Mary, was sculpted in a red underdress that would have been covered in real fabric clothing. Gabriel’s white robes are perhaps indicative of the miracle of what is about to take place. As he is moments from announcing to Mary that she will soon give birth to the son of God, the clean white fabric may allude to their mutual purity.

One of the only instances that white is seen to be closely related to a male figure is the white loincloth worn by Christ in sculpted depictions of the crucifix. This inclusion is somewhat of a mystery. The loincloth can be more easily explained as a tool to preserve the modesty of Christ’s body, but we do not know why white seems to have been the most popular colour to depict on the Cross. Moreover, these coverings are never stained nor do they show sullying of any kind despite the torture in the moments leading up to the crucifixion and the violent act of crucifixion itself. Note how the blood drips from the wound in Christ’s side down his torso and under the loincloth but does not leave any trace. Here, white seems to make Christ’s skin look less sallow- almost as if there is still blood running through his veins lending colour to his skin. This is perhaps meant to foreshadow the resurrection by visually implying that although Christ is dead, he will soon rise again.

Unlike the painted sculptures, these examples from the Della Robbia family and workshop achieved their bright white hues as a result of a white glaze fired in a kiln. This glaze, a Della Robbia family secret, contained higher levels of tin oxide and lead white than traditional potter’s glazes, and the gleaming, uniform colour that the recipe produced was famous. In a particularly striking use of Della Robbia white, this Visitation scene from around 1445, the luminous white glaze seems appropriate to depict the scene in which a young Virgin Mary, newly pregnant, is received by her older sister Elizabeth, also immaculately pregnant with John the Baptist. The smooth white seems to make the Virgin look even younger, subsequently allowing Elizabeth to look older, which emphasizes the miraculous nature of their respective pregnancies.

In the Renaissance, white was more than the absence of colour and it was more than a supporting pigment to other more vibrant hues. White could encapsulate the fair skin of a beautiful woman, the miraculous covering of the dying Christ, or a well-kept family secret.

Katie Mergelas, Queen’s University.

Please note that all images are available, with further information, on the Renaissance Polychrome Sculpture in Tuscany website.

Bibliography:

Barnett, J.R., Sarah Miller, and Emma Pearce. “Colour and Art: A Brief History of Pigments.” Optics and Laser Technology 38 (2006): 445-453.

Boucher, Bruce, Earth and Fire: Italian Terracotta Sculpture from Donatello to Canova. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002.

Bucklow, Spike. “Lead White’s Mysteries.” In Christy Anderson, Ann Dunlop and Pamela H. Smith, eds. The Matter of Art: Materials, Practices, and Cultural Logics, c.1250-1750 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015): 141-159.

Cennini, Cennino. The Craftsman’s Handbook. Trans. Daniel V. Thompson, Jr. New York: Dover, 1960.

Karim-Cooper, Farah. Cosmetics in Shakespearean and Renaissance Drama. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006.