Everything we know about classifying color first came from a German scientist named Hermann Ludwig Ferdinand von Helmholtz—a distinguished name for a distinguished gentleman. His scientific achievements range from energy conservation, to the heat death of the universe, to sensory physiology, to ophthalmology. He was a busy guy to say the least. He theorized that every color can be simplified into 3 attributes, but he never provided the adequate language to describe these 3 attributes and he didn't have a visual model to explain what he meant. This theory in its entirety only existed in his head. But color was only an incidental topic to him, never warranting the same kind of in-depth research as his other scientific experiments. He was too busy inventing the first instrument used to examine the inside of the human eye.
It wasn't until 1905 when an American painter named Albert H. Munsell defined the 3 attributes that Helmholtz only theorized about: hue, value, and chroma. He gave the attributes names and he made charts to visualize the concepts. Of course it was an artist, I think to myself. Who better to understand the intricacies of color? It took Munsell 7 years of his own scientific research to make the first color chart and by 1913 he created a total of 15 color charts, which he released in the Atlas of the Munsell Color System. He died a few years later, so unfortunately he never got to see the world embrace his work.
A chart of blues leaning into purple
A chart of color values
The Munsell Color Company was established after his death to continue Munsell's mission of defining and standardizing color. Atlas of the Munsell Color System was then republished as Munsell Book of Color which later informed the book Color Names Dictionary. Why is this important? Because these works defined the language of color we use today. Have you ever wondered who names Crayola crayons? It all goes back to these books.
Why must we standardize color and have a language around it to begin with? The answer is probably obvious to you. We see color every day and, for the non-visually impaired, we describe objects based on color. When we shop online, the product variants are usually named by color. Stoplight colors tell us how to drive. If I pick you up from the airport in a car you've never seen before, I'll tell you to look for a red car. Sure, I can give you the make and model, but the easiest identifier is its color. So in order for everyone to understand that red means red, that you need to look for a red car, we must have a standard name for the color. Makes sense and seems easy enough—except you need every language, dialect, geographical area, occupation, and culture to agree on the same thing. People can't agree on even the most basic of things, so it amazes me that we all agreed on the language of color.
Before Munsell's charts, we named colors based on the inks, pigments, minerals, and spices from which they came. Azure is a blue, named after the deep blue stone common in the Middle East. Britannica states that “the word red derives from Sanskrit rudhira and Proto-Germanic rauthaz”. Rudhira means blood, and even in the ancient Akkadian language the word red means “like blood”. We’re visual creatures and that informs how we name things. It’s a logical way to name things, but it becomes hard to distinguish a very specific shade of a color from another similar shade. If every shade is named the same, how can we tell what shade you mean by only its name?
This visual method of naming exists in Munsell's charts but it’s expanded upon and more descriptive in Color Names Dictionary. The dictionary, later published as part of the book named Color: Universal Language and Dictionary of Names, lists names and plot points for where it falls on Munsell's charts in terms of hue, value, and chroma. Since one of the best ways to understand the name of a color is to create a mental image, the dictionary uses this method frequently. A lot of the names in the dictionary are as follows: Faded Rose, Apricot Cream, Italian Straw, Antique Brass, Shrimp Pink, Smoke Gray. The names force you to visualize a specific object so you can imagine the color clearly.
Some names, however, are up for interpretation like Murmur, Peace, Finesse, and Tennis. I have no idea what colors those names are supposed to provoke. Imagine peace. What color are you seeing? Do you have it in your mind? Good. Was it a yellowish white? Because that's what it's supposed to be. I was imagining a blue, but that goes to show how subjective colors can be.
The dictionary's purpose—as stated within the book—was to "assist the scientist, businessman, and layman to understand the different color vocabularies used in the many fields of art, science, and industry." And it did. This dictionary standardized a lot of the color names we use today. Munsell got his wish; we can now distinguish between periwinkle and lavender. Well, mostly women can. Men might have more trouble. Researchers say women are better at discriminating tiny differences between colors that look identical to men and women have better color language than men. Apparently testosterone may be to blame for this.
Which is lavender and which is periwinkle?
Speaking of women, Color: Universal Language and Dictionary of Namesstates that it became clear that most colors were bought by or for women so the names of colors shifted towards femininity—names like French Nude, Heart's Desire, and Intimate Mood were invented. Why? Because capitalism, of course. No, but in earnest there was serious economic importance. Fabrics and paints sold better when the names of the colors were more attractive to women since they were the target demographic. I think this explains the names of nail polishes too. Some nail polishes take it too far with names like Jail Bait, Cougar Attack, and Size Matters. I don't think those names are at all attractive for women. Maybe they're attractive for men, I don’t know.
Crayola says that they use Color: Universal Language and Dictionary of Names to name their crayons. Some names are not in the dictionary as they allow the public to name a few, but the majority of the names come from the same dictionary that defined the language of color.
I can't tell you why I've fixated on this topic of color language other than it intrigues me. Who knew that a couple of books held authority over all the names of colors? I just assumed painters had a hold on the names we use, and while that’s not entirely untrue, it’s not the total picture.
You can find these books for free online if you want to dig into the topic further. The Munsell Book of Color is here and Color: Universal Language and Dictionary of Names is here. They are the main source of information for this post.