Imbolc has come and gone, marking the midpoint between winter and spring, and with it, the promise of brighter days ahead. Imbolc is a time of calling forth the bounty of the earth from deep within. Though the ground is still frozen here in Vermont, with this calling forth I find myself longing for GREEN—the vibrant, living green of new shoots, mossy banks, and unfurling leaves. It’s a color of renewal, of life waking from winter’s slumber, and it’s one that humans have sought to capture for thousands of years.
But green has always been a tricky color for artists and pigment makers. Unlike red and yellow, which are found abundantly in natural earth pigments, stable greens have often required more alchemy—fermenting, grinding, binding, and sometimes even risking toxicity. In honor of the coming season, I want to explore some of the ways people have historically made green pigments, from ancient mineral-based colors to plant-derived inks and the chemistry of modern synthetic greens.
Green Pigment Rocks & Minerals
The ancient Greeks and Egyptians used Malachite, a gemstone pigment. Here in Vermont I have found river rocks that are comparatively green, when one is paying close attention. These, like any mineral pigment, can be ground finely and mixed with a binder to produce paint. The downside? This is a time consuming process and doesn't produce the deep, saturated greens we associate with nature.
Verdigris: The Copper Patina Pigment
If you’ve ever seen the greenish-blue oxidation on old copper rooftops or statues, you’ve seen verdigris. This pigment was historically made by exposing copper plates to vinegar vapors, which encouraged the growth of a crusty, blue-green corrosion layer. Once scraped off and ground into a powder, it could be mixed with a binder to make paint.
Artists in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance used verdigris extensively, though they knew its reputation for instability—it could shift colors over time, sometimes turning brown or even fading away entirely. It was also somewhat corrosive, which made it difficult to use on certain surfaces. Despite its unpredictability, verdigris remained one of the only options for a bright, transparent green until the 18th century. I've struggled with my own relationship to this pigment; though I crave the bright teals I've seen other modern paint and ink-makers create with this pigment, I have also learned that it is extremely toxic, and improper disposal of the pigment has potential to poison the earth. This runs contrary to a core artistic goal--to bring myself and the viewer into greater harmony with the natural world.
Plant-Based Greens: As fleeting as Spring
Many leaves and flowers are green, but making a lasting green pigment from plants is surprisingly difficult. Chlorophyll, the molecule responsible for photosynthesis (and the bright green color of plants), breaks down quickly when exposed to heat, light, and oxygen, making it impossible to create pigments with.
Historically, people experimented with plant-based greens in various ways:
Woad and Indigo Overdyeing: In medieval textile dyeing, green was often achieved by dyeing fabric yellow first (using weld or other yellow-producing plants) and then overdyeing it with woad or indigo. This layering technique produced deep forest greens.
Buckthorn Berries: The unripe berries of the buckthorn plant were used to create a greenish-yellow pigment known as sap green. This color was popular in watercolor painting, but it was fugitive—meaning it faded over time. I've used this pigment in my own work, and I am fasciated by it, as it produces a vibrant striking green.
Iris Green: One botanical pigment I have yet to try but plan to experiment with this spring is Iris Green, made from the sap of fresh iris flowers. Historical accounts suggest that crushing iris petals and processing them in specific ways can yield a delicate green pigment, sometimes leaning toward blue-green depending on the species and pH adjustments. I have many iris blooms in my yard, and as the warm weather returns, I’m eager to see what kind of green they might produce. The fleeting, seasonal nature of botanical pigments makes them even more precious, and I love deepening my understanding of plants through this type of experimentation.
Synthetic Pigments
Today, artists have an abundance of greens at our fingertips—Phthalo Green, Cobalt Green, Chrome Oxide Green—all products of modern chemistry. We even have a synthetic version of sap green--the same green traditionally made from buckthorn berries. These synthetic pigments offer permanence but I'd argue we might have lost some meaning in the translation. What do you think?
As the wheel of the year turns toward spring, my longing for green is as much about the act of making as it is about the color itself. Soon, the world will be bursting with tiny fuzzy curled up ferns, snowdrops, and crocuses. I can't wait to capture this fleeting brilliance in pigment and paint.
Make sure you are signed up for the Earth & Easel newsletter, so you can keep in touch and be a part of the process as I build a new series of paintings. They will definitely feature GREEN.
-Mira
Artist, Growing In Process
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