Newton’s intense curiosity, immense intellect, ambition and high personal regard propelled him to great heights, but like other great men, left him susceptible to overreach. In fact, these seem to be inseparable traits, especially in the early days of science.

Since before Aristotle’s time until Newton’s, natural philosophy was the dominant form of systematic inquiry into the physical nature of the world. As the predecessor of science, natural philosophy sought to discover how nature worked, especially the underlying patterns of connections. From the animal kingdom to astrology, there was a sustained effort to describe and catalog all things, and discover the hidden concordances that govern these relationships — the search for universal harmony.

Here, we go back before Aristotle’s time to Pythagoras, the ancient Greek philosopher and polymath, who is credited for discovering many foundational mathematical and scientific principles. None of his writings exist today, but we know of his great works through Plato, Aristotle and other learned Greeks.

Amongst Pythagoras’ many great discoveries, one stands out for our purposes here — the discovery of the mathematical basis of music. According to legend, Pythagoras first recognized the mathematical basis of music when he passed a blacksmith's workshop and noticed the sound hammers of different weights produced. His observations led him to deduce the numerical ratios that produced harmonious tones.

Pythagoras extended this insight to the cosmos itself; this became the doctrine of Musica Universalis — the music of the spheres. The Pythagorean school of thought believed that mathematics was the foundation of the entire universe, and thought the whole heaven to be a musical scale and number. Music has mathematical structure, therefore mathematical structure is music, and thus everything that has mathematical structure participates in a universal harmony.

Sound is vibration, a rapid movement on an audible wavelength that creates sound waves. When multiple sounds are produced, their waves interact, producing either a harmonious or consonant sound, which is pleasing to the ear, or a dissonant sound, which is disagreeable.

When two sound waves interact, their frequencies either align or conflict. Consonant intervals have simple frequency ratios, which means their waves align regularly and reinforce each other. The result is a smooth, periodic waveform that the auditory system processes cleanly.

Dissonant sound intervals have complex, irrational ratios. When two frequencies are close enough to stimulate overlapping regions of the inner ear, they create neural competition, or beating, that the brain experiences as tension or unease. Thus, certain sound combinations are physically uncomfortable.

From here, the judgement point shifts from scientific to aesthetic. Sound has a particular effect on human hearing, where certain sound combinations can be physically upsetting. This is the pure effect of sound. Music is built on top of this relationship — the aesthetic combination of sounds into consonant relationships and pleasing sequences.

Simple ratios, such as 2:1, 3:2, produce consonance, harmony, and pleasure. The irrational ratio √2:1 physically produces dissonance, unease in the listener’s ear. Mathematics and aesthetic experience seemed to be the same thing. That’s an extraordinary claim, and it appears here to be demonstrably true.

Unlike pure sound, music is subject to taste and cultural differences. In medieval times, The Devil’s Music was what the Church called the tritone, three whole tones and six semitones. The tritone intervals are not simple ratios, but an irrational number. If God’s order was expressed mathematically, then this tritone combination was heretical due to its imperfection.

The discovery of the mathematical relationships of sound and consonance / dissonance supported the growth of music as an aesthetic art form. Music can be described mathematically, but math alone cannot make music. Sound and music are also unique in that their physical effect on people are demonstrable, yet fluid. There are sound combinations that are physically painful, while other combinations, especially in music, are heard culturally. The devil’s tritone, for example, is the basis of blues music and its flattened fifth. The ear that hears this as dissonant is culturally trained.

Music then, brings together three unique aspects — psychoacoustics, harmonic theory, and Musica Universalis. The first two are demonstrably scientific, while the third is philosophical, a world view that is created and overlaid on scientific principles, in order to present a cohesive philosophical framework that contains an agenda. Musica universalis was a philosophical-cosmological tradition that united scientists, philosophers and theologians.

This is a key example of the thread that connects a long line of Western intellectual tradition, characterized by the need to make fundamental statements about the organized principles of the physical world, from Pythagoras to Newton and beyond. It is found in the practice of natural philosophy and science, as well as esoteric hermetic traditions, where it is described by Hermes Trismegistus’ maxim: ‘As above, so below.’ Of course, this principle was later assimilated into the Church by Aquinas, as evidence of God’s infallible handiwork.

Going back to Newton, his work, like many scientists, was aimed at finding the hidden physical rules of the universe, and incorporating them into a cohesive framework of meaning. The Principia offers a prime example — Newton's laws of motion and gravity unified terrestrial and celestial mechanics into a single mathematical framework. That was legitimate and correct. However, Newton then spent years trying to extend that framework further, into chemistry, alchemy, and theology, looking for the same kind of unified law operating at every level of nature.

This was where he found himself with color; After his scientifically rigorous demonstration of the nature of light and color, he overextended himself with sweeping proposals about the nature of matter, force, God, the ether, sensation, and the relationship between light and everything else.

It was at this point that Newton’s desire to find universal concordance led future generations astray about the relationships between colors, that continue to reverberate to this day. Our next installment will reveal Newton’s oversteps and examine why they still matter.

"For the rays, to speak properly, are not colored. In them there is nothing else than a certain power and disposition to stir up a sensation of this or that color."
— Sir Isaac Newton


The perception of color is innate to the human experience, as it is tied to our evolutionary existence. This natural integration has fed the human desire to capture color and create with it. The earliest cave pictographs in Lascaux, France were done with color. And so, every culture since the beginning of humankind has incorporated color into the fabric of its society, with ever more sophisticated techniques and technologies.

To understand where we are now, in the 21st century, we must travel back in time, to find the threads of color thought that connect us to the past. This is the way to reveal the untold truths, the assumptions and the oversteps that have influenced and biased the ways we use color today — the way to finding everything you don’t know about color.

The true origin of colors was obscured for centuries. From antiquity, the origins of color were described largely from observation, reasoning and argument, as part of a larger framework of natural philosophy. The most important early figure was Aristotle, who held that all colors were derived from Black and White, defining this framework in his seminal work, de Coloribus, or On Colors.

As a natural philosopher, Aristotle based his work on his observation of nature and deductive arguments based on philosophical notions, in what seemed to be common sense; water and air are naturally white, while gold is the color of fire. Light itself doesn’t have color, but all colors are visible because of it. Red is a mixture of light and black, and colors are created by varying mixtures of light and black. Color in living things is determined by the effect of moisture and dryness in combination with light and black.

Aristotle’s color theories solidified into canonical knowledge, so ingrained that they were absorbed whole into Scholasticism, the dominant mode of medieval philosophy. Thomas Aquinas united Aristotelian philosophy with Christian doctrine during this time, building the intellectual foundation and official position of the Christian Church. This position held for over four hundred years, until the time of Isaac Newton.

Isaac Newton was a giant of intellect, a polymath and original thinker who’s discoveries changed the course of history, as a physicist, mathematician, astronomer, inventor, thinker — and alchemist. He was a key figure in the Scientific Revolution that led to the Enlightenment; amongst his protean discoveries, he formulated the laws of motion and gravity, calculus, and foundational principles of optics. His observation of first principles combined with ingenious thinking overturned years of conventional wisdom and official dogma during his lifetime.

In 1666, the Black Plague was rampant, forcing Newton to seclude himself in his home laboratory while Cambridge was shut down. Working on his theories of optics, Newton began experimenting with prisms.

Prisms are familiar to everyone, casting the familiar rainbow gradient, and they were a well known curiosity during Newton’s day. However, the difference was that Newton thought differently, and his investigation was in an entirely different direction than the conventional wisdom that prisms merely modified or corrupted white light to produce colors.

Newton’s original proposition was the opposite — that white light was a composite of all colors, which the prism separated into bands. Crucially, Newton designed a set of experiments to prove his ideas; using two prisms, he was able to separate the spectral colors and then recombine them back into white light. Thus, Newton was able to prove that the prism did not, in fact, alter the color of the white light, because this recombination would not be possible if the first prism was modifying the original color. The conclusion being that colors were actually different refractions, or wavelengths, of light!

Here, we must pause and consider Newton, the man. Well known historically as the father of modern Science, he was also an avid Christian, and behind the scenes, he was a practicing alchemist. Over half of what Newton wrote concerned theology and alchemy. Newton devoted at least thirty years of his life to its intensive study, an estimated one million words devoted to alchemy, and most of it has never been printed.

Alchemy was the predecessor of Science, and influenced by natural philosophy and esoteric beliefs and rituals. Specifically, modern chemistry sprang from alchemy and its experiments with physically transforming substances and elements in rigorous and elaborate processes.

The modern view of alchemy tends to focus on the vain search for transmuting base substances into gold, and obscure practices that were part witchcraft. Newton himself used alchemy as another way to access and unlock the secrets of the universe.

Why was this secret? To start, knowledge was seen as dangerous, to be entrusted only to a select few adepts who had proven themselves to be capable of understanding and wielding this secret knowledge, while protecting it from being corrupted or dispersed into unworthy hands. Another reason why knowledge was dangerous was when it conflicted with authority, undermining official standards and positions.

As a seeker of truth, Newton was unafraid and prolific, yet cautious in public life. Privately, he rejected commonly held dogma and the established views of the Church. Newton’s heresies were numerous and could have cost him his positions at Cambridge and the Royal Society, so he kept this work hidden — another hallmark of alchemy.

Early scientists and free thinkers all ran the risk of running afoul of the Church, who’s position of authority in medieval times was absolute. As God’s representatives, their position was absolute and unquestionable, according to the doctrine of infallibility. Therefore, to question any of the intellectual framework of the Church, as defined by Aquinas and others, was to run afoul of God, and therefore be open to punishment.

This could take many forms. The story of Copernicus, Bruno and Galileo followed this arc, when Copernicus’ astronomical discovery that the sun is at the center of our solar system challenged the Church’s dogma that the Earth is at the center of the universe. The Church’s reaction was to ban Copernicus’ book, burn Bruno at the stake, and imprison Galileo. This was the regime of authority under which Newton worked secretly in his quest for knowledge — illicit or not.

There was another authority that both supported and suppressed Newton’s quest — The Royal Society. Founded in 1660, to promote and support scientific inquiry, it quickly gained patronage from Charles II and thus the support of the monarchy. Composed of the leading scientific minds from various disciplines, The Royal Society became a competitive proving ground for science, the debate of ideas and the weighing of evidence.

Robert Hooke was Newton's senior at the Royal Society and one of the most formidable scientific minds of the era. He was another polymath who made significant contributions to biology, physics, architecture and engineering. His strongly held views came into conflict with Newton’s in a fundamental way, about the nature of light; Newton held that light was composed of particles, while Hooke maintained that it was a wave.

Hooke refused to fully accept Newton’s theories because he declared that his own model could account for the same light splitting phenomenon. Ultimately, both were right, however, this wasn't resolved until the discovery of quantum mechanics in the 20th century. The dispute was never fully resolved in their lifetimes, but the conflict meant that publication was delayed for years while it played out.

So, from Newton’s first discovery in 1666, and his first submission to The Royal Society in 1672, his paper wasn’t published until 1704. Backed by the authority of the monarchy and the institutional prestige of The Royal Society, and presented as a scientific discovery instead of a theological argument, Newton’s discovery finally laid to rest the archaic conventional wisdom around the nature of color. This marked the end of the first epoch of color, but by no means did it end the debate around color.

Newton’s prodigious intellect enabled his discoveries, but it also led him astray in theorizing about color. In the next installment, we will examine where Newton overreached — and find the errors that persist to this day.

Once there was a special moment that awakened my mind’s eye; a random encounter with Monet ended up changing everything for me — blues and greens playing with each other over a dark background, no figures, just brushstrokes of color, forming a luminous dreamworld with great depth — leading me into a lifelong pursuit of that experience of wonder.

Today, I’m a Human Machine Interface and User Experience designer with over 25 years of design experience and fine arts practice. I’m an educator, explorer and autodidact — and a left handed Scorpio — who sees the world differently.

During my MFA studies at Parsons School of Design in New York, I was frustrated with traditional color theory and tools, and I wanted to find a better, more intuitive way to work with color on the computer; I desired to create a more fluid way for digital artists to work with color and develop methods closer to the way painters work with color. I found it, and used it to create Colormxr and Interactive Color Creation — the methods of RGB+CMY colormixing.

The Alchemy of Color is an investigation into the mysteries of color, following red threads through history across the parallel worlds of art, science and human perception, and the tools, practices and traditions we’ve inherited from each. The first arc, Everything You Don’t Know About Color, explores where conventional wisdom about color has impacted color usage in art + design, shining a light in the darkness to help people discover how to create confidently with color.

Historically, alchemists acquired knowledge as a means of transformation. The aim of the Alchemy of Color is the same, to pursue the hidden power of color, so that we may watch it shine. Excelsior!

“With color one obtains an energy that seems to stem from witchcraft.”
—Henri Matisse

Color is a universal phenomena, permeating our very existence; color is deeply embedded in the human experience at every level, from daily life to extraordinary events. In its everyday role, color performs myriad utilitarian functions. We use color in many ways, to tell us if the stove is still hot, or when to stop or go at the traffic light.

However, there are also moments when color transcends its boundaries and asserts its remarkable power. These moments reveal the mysterious beauty of color, touching something that is deep inside us all. That moment of transcendence reveals the alchemy of color.

Humans respond to the power of color naturally, and have endeavored throughout history to harness this power and employ it in their own products, designs and artworks. To do this requires two things: color substances and color application — the art of working with color.

Color substances are the physical color means that artists and designers work with. From early natural resources such as charcoal, berries and ochre, man learned to create dyes and pigments through increasingly sophisticated methods. This early chemistry was a form of alchemy that eventually morphed into scientific practice. Today, digital artists and designers work with the substance of light, Red, Green and Blue photons.

The third act of alchemy, and the most elusive, is the act of creating with color, using it expressively to dazzle the mind's eye and invoke the power of color. This is the alchemy of art.

Historically, Alchemists have played a mysterious but important role, part mystic and part scientist, exploring the mysteries of existence with esoteric and unorthodox methods. In alchemy, the Magnum Opus, or ‘great work’ is the process of taking ordinary matter and converting it to gold. Here, the Alchemy of Color takes color as its subject matter, in a quest to understand the mysterious nature of color.

What is the alchemy of color? It is not a material thing, but rather it is philosophical gold, the knowledge of how to work with color to transform it from dross to gold, seeking the moments when color asserts its transcendent power, revealing the mysterious beauty of color, touching something that is deep inside all of us.

Experiencing color is easy, but working with it creatively is another matter entirely. Color and form are the two main components of any visual composition, and so every artist and designer is forced to address color and how to apply it to their work. That this happens from the very beginning, when a child is handed a box of crayons, belies the hidden complexity of color choice; It is assumed that this is a natural talent, a gift that some lucky few may have, while the rest of us look at a row of green crayons and grab one randomly and hope for the best.

Later on, we are introduced to color wheels, color palettes and color theory, all very authoritative, yet inscrutable. This extends to software tools, such as slider controls, color pickers and palette generators. There appears to be a logic that somehow remains elusive during the creative process, compelling practitioners to fill in the gaps with their own taste and ingenuity. Thus, we arrive at an age old maxim that seems as relevant now as it was when it was first spoken in the 19th century:

"Designers may be made, but colorists are born."
— Eugene Delacroix

This is where I found myself many years ago, a young digital designer who wanted to learn how to work with color. I found a Red Yellow Blue color wheel at my local art supply store, at first convinced by its appearance, only to be frustrated by the lack of results, and finding out later that it was the wrong tool entirely.

I did find one heroic color resource, Josef Albers and his book Interaction of Color. Unlike other color theorists, Albers emphasized personal experience and perception as a means of working with color. Albers’ inspiration led me on a journey through time between the distinct disciplines of color, the parallel traditions of art and science, and human experience of color in its many forms. This journey has led me to confront tradition and develop tools and methods that shatter many dogmatic and didactic assertions about color.

This is the basis for the first arc, Everything You Don't Know About Color, where I dispel common myths and beliefs about color. Specifically, from a practical artist's and designer's perspective of working with color. It turns out that much of the confusion around working with color is due to these myths and half truths we've inherited, and successful colorists today are still defined by Delacroix's observation. I hope to change that, and the first step is to examine the historical record and call out some key points that, while they may not be wrong, are hindering the creative process of working with color.

This is iconoclastic work; subverting the conventional wisdom and dominant paradigms that make up popular color knowledge. Only by doing this can the alchemy of color be revealed and unbound, a journey of transformational knowledge.

Onward!