Indian Yellow

That's where it comes from? (Vol. 2; Issue 42)

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The Stop

A ‘luminous, deep-mustard pigment widely admired for its depth, body and radiance,’ Indian Yellow was popular in 15th century India before making its way to Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries. Used by many of the Old Masters, it became popularised by Vermeer, was part of Turner’s palette, and was most famously used by Van Gogh to paint the Indian Yellow moon in ‘The Starry Night’ (1889). However, despite its popularity the colour’s history remained obscure for centuries - a mystery that wasn’t resolved until the early 21st century.¹

Indian Yellow moon in Van Gogh’s The Starry Night (detail)/Public domain

Indian Yellow arrived in Europe in the form of ‘powdery balls of a rotten mustard colour, with yolk-bright centres and a distinctive tell-tale reek of ammonia.’ The dirty balls were processed through a sequence of washing and purification which allowed the resultant ‘greenish and yellow phases’ to be separated. No one was sure what the exact ingredients were, but the pigment reeked of ammonia and various theories held it contained snake urine, ox bile or camel urine.

On 31 January 1883, Sir Joseph Hooker - explorer, botanist and the director of Kew Gardens - sent a letter of enquiry to the Indian Department of Revenue and Agriculture. Nine months later, he received a reply from Trailokyanath Mukharji, an author and civil servant, who noted the colour was used in India to ‘paint walls, houses and railings and, very occasionally, to dye clothes (though the smell prevented this latter use from catching on).’ Mukharji also claimed to have tracked the colour’s source to a single point of origin: Mirzapur, a town in Bengal, where he had watched a group of gwalas (cowherds) feeding a herd of ‘malnourished and incredibly dehydrated’ cows a diet consisting exclusively of mango leaves and water. On this diet, the cows daily produced about three quarts of ‘extraordinarily luminous yellow urine’ which the gwalas collected in small earthen pots. Each night, the urine would be boiled into a syrup, strained and dried. The sediment was then rolled into balls that were toasted over a fire and left to dry in the sun before being packaged and sent to London.

Mukharji’s report was published in the Royal Society of Arts Journal and not long afterwards, the colour disappeared from the market.² Rumours circulated that this was the result of a law banning further production due to animal cruelty, but no trace of such a law – or an account of the pigment’s origin other than Mukharji’s – has been found. Over the years, explanations for the absence of corroborating evidence have arisen, including one by Victoria Finlay³ who suggested Mukharji was an Indian nationalist who wanted to ‘gently poke fun at the gullible Brits.’ However, the evidence against this explanation is clear: not only was Mukharji not a ‘hardened nationalist,’⁴ but when he first sent his report to Hooker - possibly foreseeing he might not be believed - he included items bought from the gwalas: an earthen pot, some mango leaves, a sample of the urine, and a few balls of pigment. Though Hooker had the pigment chemically analysed upon receipt in 1883, it wasn’t until 2018 that the matter was settled when an investigation into the original analysis identified one of the components as hippuric acid - a chemical marker found in cow’s urine.

The Detour

Today’s Detour is to a video essay (12:44) by the Royal Ocean Film Society, ‘Why This 1950s Studio Made Movies Backwards.’ It’s a very interesting explanation of how one studio - American International Pictures - controlled the market in B movies by designing the title and poster before even writing the script. The film contains some amazing footage from the 1950s and early 60s and is worth watching for that alone.

Why This 1950s Studio Made Movies Backwards

The Recommendation

Today’s Recommendation is Monisha Bharadwaj’s The Indian Cookery Course (2016). I was fortunate to take a vegetarian cooking course with her a few years back and was amazed by how in just a few hours I had grown in confidence about exploring this world. It is a beautiful cookbook - more of a textbook, in many ways - and contains the dishes we learned to prepare along with many, many more. Yes, the ingredients are easier to find if you have a good Asian market around, but most can be found in any supermarket - and there are suggestions for substitutions when required. If you enjoy cooking and feel generally confident in a kitchen, give this book a go - it’s brilliant.

From the back: From the earthy lentil dals of the North to the coconut-based curries of the South, award-winning author Monisha Bharadwaj offers a definitive guide to India’s glorious and diverse array of dishes, alongside a vivid insight into the country’s colourful culinary traditions. Along the way she teaches you the building blocks of Indian cuisine, from creating wonderfully aromatic spice blends to cooking the perfect rice.

Chapters include Meat, Poultry, Fish & Seafood, Dairy, Eggs, Lentils & Beans, Vegetables, Salads & Raitas, Chutneys, Pickles & Relishes, Desserts and Drinks and showcase fragrant curries such as Rogan Josh (a rich red Kashmiri curry), impressive rice dishes like Murgh Dum Biryani, classic recipies such as Geonchi Kodi (Goan Fish Curry), as well as grilled dishes such as Baingan Bharin (Fire-roasted Aubergine with Spices), vegetable sides like Saag Aloo (Spinach with Potatoes) and street food staples such as Vegetable Pakoras and Onion Bhajias.

This is a large book - and I was fortunate to buy it directly from Monisha. I’ve seen it in few UK bookstores, but have never looked for it anywhere in the US. It’s certainly available on the ubiquitous Amazon, but a quick search revealed other sources offering it both new and used - and it might even be in a local library. Before you head to Amazon, check out those other options - they’re better for everyone.

The Sounds

Today’s playlist is composed of tracks related to the colour yellow: ‘Mellow Yellow’ (Donovan, 1967), ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ (Joni Mitchell, 1970), ‘Yellow Ledbetter’ (Pearl Jam, 1992), ‘The Lemon Song’ (Led Zeppelin, 1969) and ‘Yellow Submarine’ (The Beatles, 1966). Enjoy!

The Thought

Today’s Thought is from the Irish poet, playwright and novelist Oscar Wilde:⁵

‘In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.’

If you have a thought on this Thought - or any part of today’s issue - please leave a comment below:

And that’s the end of this Stop - I hope you enjoyed the diversion!

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Until the next Stop …

1. Sources for today’s Stop include: St. Clair, Kassia. The Secret Lives of Colour. London: John Murray, 2016 and Indian Yellow (Winsor and Newton)

2. Modern Indian Yellow - composed of nickel azo, hansa yellow and quinacridone burnt orange - is not only entirely lightfast (unlike the original), but also has no smell. Where’s the fun in that?

3. Finlay is a British writer known for her work on colours and jewels, including the one in which this explanation is offered: Colour: Travels Through the Paintbox (2002). Her website is worth a look: Victoria Finlay.

4. Mukharji was a well-respected and established author who was closely connected to the British establishment: in 1883 he produced the catalogue for the Amsterdam Exhibition, did the same for the 1886 Colonial and Indian Exhibition and two years later produced another version when this Exhibition moved to Glasgow. He became the assistant curator in the Art and Economics section of London’s Indian Museum, donated his collection of nearly 1,000 mineral and botanical samples to the National Museum in Victoria, Australia - and presented in person a copy of his book, A Visit to Europe, to Queen Victoria in 1889. Not the type to poke fun and risk all of this.

5. Fun fact: Wilde is also connected to the colour yellow as used in the late Victorian age. But … how? If you have any idea or want to take a guess, let me know in the comments. For more information about Wilde, see: Oscar Wilde (Britannica)