Color in the Eye of the Beholder

Ansel Adams (1902-1964), photographer of the majestic, was exceptionally elusive when it came to why he preferred black-and-white photographs over color, offering only a few comments on his medium of choice. He believed that black-and-white photography was a “departure from reality” which is true on many levels but that is also true of most artistic efforts and products. He also held the elementary belief that “one sees differently with color photography than black-and-white.” Some have even suggested that Adams said, “…when you photograph them in black and white, you photograph their souls,” but this seems apocryphal since most of his oeuvre was landscape photography.

Adams’s black-and-white photography framed the grandeur of the mountainous West in stark, unembellished terms. Yet without color, a coolness loiters, untouched by human sentiment or warmth. As an unabashed environmentalist, maybe that was his point, the majesty of the outdoors was diminished by human presence. In black-and-white, the wilderness remained unsullied and alone.

But to Claude Monet (1840-1926), founding French Impressionist, color and light, was everything in his eye. Color defined his paintings, professing that “Color is my day-long obsession, (my) joy…,” he confessed. Color was also a constant burden that he carried with him throughout the day and into the night, lamenting, “Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.” He lived his aphorism: “Paint what you really see, not what you think you ought to see…but the object enveloped in sunlight and atmosphere, with the blue dome of Heaven reflected in the shadows.” His reality was light and color with a human warming touch.

Adams and Monet’s genius were partially contained in their ability to use light to capture the essence of the landscape, but Monet brought the soul along in living color. Monet’s creed, “I want the unobtainable. Other artists paint a bridge, a house, a boat, and that’s the end…. I want to paint the air which surrounds the bridge, the house, the boat, the beauty of the air in which these objects are located…”

Color is a defining quality of humanity. Without color life would be as impersonal as Adam’s landscapes, beautiful, majestic even, but without passion or pulse. A sharp, stark visual with little nuance, no emotional gradations from torment to ecstasy, just shadows and form.

Understanding color was not just a technical revelation for 19th-century French artists, it was a revolutionary awakening, a new approach to how the eye viewed color and light. The Impressionists and Pointillists brought a new perception to their canvases. And the catalyst for this leap away from the tired styles of Academic Art and Realism was Michel Eugene Chevreul, a chemist whose insight into color harmony and contrast inspired the Monets and Seurats to pursue something radically different in the world of art. His chromatic studies inspired them to paint not for the viewer’s eye, but with it, transforming perception from passive witness into an active collaboration between painter, subject, and observer.

Chevreul’s breakthrough was deceivingly simple. Colors are not static blots on a canvas but relational objects that come alive when surrounded by other hues of the spectrum. A hue in isolation is perceived differently than when seen next to another. Red deepens next to green; blue pulsates with enthusiasm against orange. This principle, simultaneous contrast, revealed that the eye does not just passively accept what it sees but synthesizes it to a new reality.

Chevreul’s theories on complementary colors and optical mixing laid the foundation for painters to forsake rigid outlines, often rendered in the non-color of black, and embrace Impressionism: not merely an art style, but a promise of perception, a collaboration between painter and viewer. Rather than blending pigments on a palette, artists like Monet and Seurat placed discrete strokes side by side, allowing the viewer’s mind to complete the image.

This optical mixing is a product of the way the eye and the brain process the various wavelengths of white light. When complementary colors are adjacent to one another the brain amplifies the differences. Neurons in the eye are selfish. When a photoreceptor is stimulated by a color it suppresses adjacent receptors sharpening the boundaries and contrast. And the brain interprets what it sees based on context. Which is why sometimes we see what is not there or misinterpret what is there, such as faces on the surface of Mars or UFOs streaking through the sky. There is also a theory that the brain processes color in opposing pairs. When it sees red it suppresses green creating a vibrancy of complementary colors when placed together.

The Impressionists intensely debated Chevreul’s concepts then they brushed them to life with paint. They painted not concrete objects, but forms shaped by light and color. Haystacks and parasols within a changing mood of contrasting color. . Interpretation by the eye of the beholder.

Chevreul’s collected research, The Principles of Harmony and Contrast of Colors and Their Applications to the Arts, originally published in 1839, remains in print nearly two centuries later.

Source: The Principles of Harmony and Contrast of Colors and Their Applications to the Arts by Michel Eugène Chevreul, 1997 (English Translation). Graphic: Woman with a Parasol by Monet, 1875. National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. Public Domain.

Locke and Citizenship

John Locke, the intellectual and philosophical father of modern Western democracies, argues in his Second Treatise of Government that membership in a political society—and thus citizenship—is not automatically granted by birth on a country’s soil alone. Instead, it depends on the concept of consent, whether explicit or tacit, and the allegiance of the parents. Locke asserts that a child’s status is tied to the political community of the parents rather than merely the geographic location of their birth. Citizenship to Locke was not a right but a contract between the governed and the government. A summation of his reasoning follows:

  1. Voluntary Consent as the Basis of Citizenship: Locke begins with the premise that all individuals are born free and equal in a state of nature. Political society emerges only through the voluntary consent of individuals to join together. For Locke, citizenship is not an inherent trait but a contractual relationship. A child born on foreign soil to non-citizen parents has not entered this contract, nor have their parents done so on their behalf.
  • Parental Influence on Political Identity: Locke suggests that a child’s initial political identity derives from their parents. He describes the natural subjection of children to parental authority, implying that their political allegiance aligns with that of their parents until they reach an age where they can consent for themselves. If the parents are foreigners—not members of the political society where the child is born—they owe no allegiance to that country’s government, and thus neither does the child by extension.
  • Rejection of Jus Soli: Unlike later theories of jus soli (right of the soil), Locke does not consider birth on a territory sufficient for citizenship. He distinguishes between temporary presence and permanent allegiance. A foreigner residing in a country does not automatically become a member of its commonwealth unless they explicitly consent to its laws and government. A child born to such foreigners, being incapable of agreeing to these terms, does not acquire citizenship through birth alone.
  • Tacit Consent and Its Limits: Locke acknowledges that tacit consent—such as owning property or residing long-term in a country—can signal allegiance. However, a newborn child cannot provide consent, tacit or otherwise. If the parents are merely visitors or temporary residents, their presence does not imply a commitment to the political community, and thus the child does not gain citizenship by default.
  • An Illustrative Analogy: Locke reinforces his argument with an example: a child born to English parents in France does not become a French subject simply because of the location of birth. Instead, the child remains tied to the English commonwealth through the parents’ allegiance. This reflects Locke’s view that citizenship stems from political bonds, not just physical geography.

In summary, Locke’s arguments about citizenship, consent, and political society in his Second Treatise of Government are deeply rooted in his broader natural law framework. Natural law, for Locke, is a set of universal moral principles derived from reason and human nature, which govern individuals in the state of nature—before the establishment of organized political societies.

Locke contends that a child born on foreign soil to non-citizen parents is not a citizen of that country because citizenship requires consent and allegiance, which the child inherits from the parents’ status rather than the place of birth. Furthermore, a minor lacks the capacity to consent to the laws and allegiance of a foreign land. Locke’s reasoning underscores individual agency and the contractual nature of political membership, prioritizing these over a purely territorial basis for citizenship.

Source: Second Treaties of Government by John Locke, 1690. Graphic: John Locke by Godfrey Kneller 1697.  Public Domain.

Thought for the Day

T.H. Huxley, Darwin’s Bulldog, anatomist, and autodidact, reflecting upon time and matter, makes the humorous connection that, “It is very possible that atoms which once formed an integral part of the busy brain of Julius Caesar may now enter into the composition of Caesar, the housedog in an English homestead.

Source: Elementary Physiology, T.H. Huxley, 1902. Graphic: English Sheepdog, AI generated.