What do you think of Cobalt blue? Tell us in the comments. Vincent Van Gogh’s The Yellow House has received notice from critics about its use of Cobalt. Beyond fine art, the color is used in ophthalmology, both as a filter in ophthalmoscopes and as a dye used to detect corneal ulcers and scratches. Contemporary installation artist Eve Laramee even covered the floor of an entire room with Cobalt-colored glass in her piece Requiem for a Blue Field. Independent of process, cobalt blue has been popular among figurative and landscape painters such as Vincent Van Gogh, Maxfield Parrish and Giambattista Tiepolo. Little is known about the production behind earlier appearances of the color. Before that time, artists using cobalt worked with the appropriately named Smalt, an unstable pigment derived from cobalt ore and developed during the 16 th century. The pigment’s nickname comes from chemist Louis Jacques Thénard, who discovered a stable version of the material in 1802. Painters and painting enthusiasts today know it as a distinctive and warm yet deep complement to ultramarine, phthalo, manganese and other blues. + Is there a photo, a drawing, a letter in your life that bears significant emotion? Please share below.Also known as Thénard’s blue, cobalt blue has appeared on objects, frescos, ceramics and glass since antiquity. I was to be the driver of my destiny, though sadness, heartache and all the ridiculous, infantile fun I had to get away with to know what was good for me. It didn’t tell me what to do and where to go. That hunk of blue painted metal was the best grief counselor I ever had. Sometimes it would hurt, sometimes it would sting, sometimes I’d get a whiff of nostalgia mixed with kerosene, but more often than not it would offer a cocoon of comfort. And each time I got into that car, I would feel my father. I drove that Land Cruiser until the power steering started to fail, and the body shook every time I pushed 65 mph. When I finally passed my driver’s test, I would act as if the car were my own, often driving just to be going someplace else. I’d pick up my friends and drive it around town, ducking down behind the steering wheel each time I saw someone I thought I recognized. In a few more, in an act of rebellion, I would copy the key and hide it under my bed so that I could take the car while my mother was away. Dad loved that car, in the way men are known to love their toys. I hear the low growl the engine made when it climbed the dirt driveway to the house. I feel the synthetic upholstered seats and see the imprint they left on the backs of my thighs after the long drive up north. Looking at the picture in my hands, I can smell the car’s interior - a mixture of dog and kerosene that my parents kept on hand for space heaters. Behind him, the stretch of rolling snow-covered meadows that served as our playground and - right smack in the center of the frame - his ’88 Land Cruiser in shiny cobalt blue. He holds a pipe in his teeth and wears a sly smile, and he has that light in his eye that signaled all was right with the world. His hair is not yet that shock of white I recall, but it’s certainly as wild. It’s a 3×5″ I’ve kept in a frame - a cheap cardboard one that opens up like a book. How did I lose that? Why did my mom always dress me like Nicky from Big Love for picture day?Īnd then there it is: the photo that stops time. I wore THAT to graduation? Why was I always drawn to such unfortunate prints? So, my eye has always been a little wonky when I smile it’s not a product of age, after all. Sitting on my living room floor, I sift through the past, unearthing pockets of time I have stashed away deep in the fabric of my brain. They are simple reminders of the passage of time, I tell myself, moments never meant to be reproduced. I spread the photos out before me and begin to stack them by event, an autobiographical timeline, the evidence laid out before me like I’m a detective on a crime show. Incomparable Color Intensity Finest Professional Artists Oil Colors Valued By The Masters LUKAS 1862 Professional Artist Oil - Cobalt Blue is incredibly. A part of me feels it might be best if these images were locked away somewhere, and that the past - and all its sentimentality - is better left behind.īut it has to be done. It’s not something I’ve been looking forward to. Finally, it’s the daunting task of putting my memories in order by going through old photos. I started with clothes, then beauty samples, then extra linens - a simple exercise in tidying up. Recently, I’ve taken to unloading and disposing of those possessions that no longer serve me. Story by the ever-talented and ever-worldly Ariane Marder. Share in the bittersweet nostalgia of a yesteryear…as found in our November magalog.
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