Lecture I
Colour-Experience (Erlebnis)
Colour, the subject of these three lectures, interests the physicist
and — though we shall not speak of it from this aspect
today — it interests also — or should do — the psychologist;
more than all these, if must interest the artist, the painter. In a
survey of the modern idea of the world of colour, we notice that
although the psychologist may, admittedly, have something to say about
the subjective experience of colour this is nevertheless of no value
for the knowledge of the objective nature of the world of colour — a
knowledge which really lies only in the province of the physicist. In
the first place, Art is not allowed to decide anything at all about
the nature of colour and its quality in the objective sense. At the
present time people are very far from what Goethe intended in his
oft-repeated utterance: “The man to whom Nature begins to reveal
her open secret feels an irresistible longing for her most worthy
interpreter — Art.”
Any one who, like Goethe, really lives in art, can never doubt that
what the artist has to say about the world of colour must be bound up
with the nature of colour. In ordinary life colour is dealt with
according to the surface of the objects presenting themselves to us as
coloured, according to the impressions received through the nature of
the coloured object.
We obtain the colour fluctuating, in a sense, varying, as it were,
through the well-known prismatic experiment, and we look into, or try
to look into the world of colour in many ways. In so doing we have
always in mind the idea that we ought to estimate colour according to
subjective impressions. For a long time it has been the custom — we
might say, the mischievous custom — in some places, to contend that
what we perceive as a coloured world really exists only for our senses,
whereas in the world outside, objective colour presents nothing but
certain undulatory movements of the very finest substance, known as
ether. Any one who wishes to form an idea from definitions and
explanations such as these is able to make nothing of the concept that
what he knows as colour-impressions, his personal experience of colour,
has to do with some kind of ether in motion. Yet when people speak of
the quality of colour, they really have only the subjective impression
in mind, and seek for something objective. They then wander away from
colour, however, for in all the vibrations of ether which are thought
out, there is really nothing further from the content of our real
world of colour. In order to arrive at the objective nature of colour we
must try to keep to the world of colour itself and not leave it; then
we may hope to fathom its real nature.
Let us try for a while to sink ourselves into something which can be
given us from the whole wide, varied world of colour. Then in order to
penetrate into the nature of colour, we must experience something in
regard to it which raises the whole consideration into our life of
feeling. We must try to question our feeling as to what colour is in
our surrounding world. In a sense we shall best proceed by means of an
inward experiment, so that we may have before us not only the
processes which on the whole are difficult to analyze and are not
easily seen, but we will proceed at once to the essential thing.
Suppose we colour a flat surface green. We shall only sketch this
roughly. (see Diagram 1)
If we simply allow the colour to stimulate our feelings, we can
experience something in green as such, something which we need not
define further. No one will doubt that we can experience the
same thing when gazing on the green plant-covering of the earth; we
must do so, of course, because it is green. We must disregard
everything else offered by the plants, as we only wish to look at the
greenness. Let us suppose we have this greenness before our mental
eyes.
| Diagram 1 Click image for large view | |
When painting, we can introduce different colours into this greenness.
Let us picture three. We have before us three green surfaces. Into the
first we will introduce red; into the second, peach-blossom colour;
into the third, blue.
You must admit that the sensation aroused is very different in the
three cases, that there is a certain quality of sensation when red,
peach-blossom colour, or blue forms are pictured in the green. It is
now a question of expressing in some way the content of the sensation
thus presented to our soul.
If we wish to express such a thing as this, we must try to
characterize it, for extremely little can be attained by abstract
definitions. We must try to describe it somehow. Let us try to do so
by bringing a little imagination into what we have painted before us.
Suppose we really wish to produce the sensation of a green surface in
the first place, and in it we paint red figures. Whether we give them
red faces and red skin, or whether we paint them entirely red, is
immaterial. In the first example we paint red figures; in the second,
peach-blossom colour — which would approximate human
flesh-colour — and on the third green surface we paint blue figures.
We are not copying Nature in this experiment, but placing something
before the soul in order to bring a complex of sensation into
discussion.
Suppose we have before us this landscape: Across a green meadow red,
peach-blossom colour or blue figures are passing; in each of the three
cases we have an utterly different complex of sensation. If we look at
the first we shall say: These red figures in the green meadow enliven
the whole of it. The meadow is greener because of them; it becomes
still more saturated with green, more vivid because red figures are
there, and we ought to be enraged on seeing these red figures. We may
say: That is really nonsense, an impossible case. I should really have
to make the red figures like lightning, they must be moving.
Red figures at rest in a green meadow act disturbingly in their
repose, for they are already in motion by reason of their red colour;
they produce something in the meadow which it is really impossible to
picture at rest. We must come into a very definite complex of feeling
if we wish to make such a concept at all.
The second example is harmonious. The peach-blossom coloured figures
can stand there indefinitely; if they stand there for an hour it does
not trouble us. Our sensation tells us that these peach-blossom
coloured figures have really no special conditions; they do not disturb
the meadow, they do not enhance its greenness, they are quite neutral.
They may stand where they will, it does not trouble us. They suit the
meadow everywhere; they have no inner connection with the green
meadow.
We pass on to the third; we look at the blue figures in the green
meadow. That does not last long, for the blue figures deaden the green
meadow to us. The greenness of the meadow is weakened. It does not
remain green. Let us try to realize the right imagination of blue
figures walking over a green meadow; or blue beings generally, they
might be blue spirits. The meadow ceases to be green, it takes on some
of the blueness, it becomes itself bluish, it ceases to be green. If
the figures stay there long we can no longer picture them at all; we
have the idea that there must be somewhere an abyss, and that the blue
figures take the meadow from us, carry it away and cast it into the
abyss. It becomes impossible; for a green meadow cannot remain if blue
figures stand there; they take it away with them.
That is colour-experience. It must be possible to have it, otherwise we
shall not understand the world of colour. If we wish to acquaint
ourselves with something which finds its most beautiful and
significant application in imagination, we must be able to experiment
in that sphere. We must be able to ask ourselves: What happens to a
green meadow when red figures walk therein? It becomes still greener;
it becomes very real in its greenness. The green begins veritably to
burn. The red figures bring so much life into the greenness that we
cannot think of them in repose. They must really be running about. If
we wish to portray it exactly and to paint the true picture of the
meadow, we should not paint red figures standing quietly in it; they
must be seen dancing in a ring. A ring of red dancers would be
permissible in a green meadow.
On the other hand, people clothed not in red but entirely in
flesh-colour might stand for all eternity in a green meadow. They are
quite neutral to the green; they are absolutely indifferent to the
meadow; it remains as it is, not the slightest tint is altered.
In the case of the blue figures, however, they run from us with the
meadow, for the entire meadow loses its greenness because of them. We
must, of course, speak comparatively when speaking of experiences in
colour. We cannot talk like pedants about colour-experiences, for we
cannot approach them so. We must speak in analogy — not, indeed, as
those who say that one billiard ball pushes another; stags push, also
bullocks and buffaloes, but not billiard balls in actual fact.
Nevertheless, in Physics we speak of a “thrust” because
everywhere we need the support of analogy if we are to begin to speak
at all.
Now this makes it possible to see something in the world of colour
itself, as such. There is something in that world which we shall have
to seek as the nature of colour. Let us take a very characteristic
colour, one we have already in mind, the colour which meets us
everywhere in summer as the most attractive — green. We find it in
plants; we are accustomed to regard it as characteristic of them.
There is no other such intimate connection as that of greenness with
the plant. We do not feel it as a necessity that certain animals which
are green could only be green; we have always the subconscious
thought that they might be some other colour; but as regards the plants
our idea is that greenness belongs to them, that it is something
peculiarly their own. Let us endeavour by means of the plants to
penetrate into the objective nature of colour — as a rule the
subjective nature alone is sought.
What is the plant, which thus, as it were, presents green to us? We
know from Spiritual Science that the plant owes its existence to the
fact that it has an etheric body in addition to its physical body. It
is this etheric body which really lives in the plant; but the etheric
body is not itself green. The element which gives the plant its
greenness is, indeed, in its physical body, making green peculiar to
the plant, but in reality it cannot be the essential nature of the
plant, for that lies in the etheric body. If the plant had no etheric
body it would be a mineral. In its mineral nature the plant manifests
itself through green. The etheric body is quite a different colour, but
it presents itself to us by means of the mineral green of the plant.
If we study the plant in relation to its etheric body, if we study its
greenness in this connection, we must say: if we set on the one hand
the essential nature of the plant, and on the other the greenness,
dividing it abstractly, taking the greenness from the plant, it is
really as though we simply made an image of something; in the
greenness withdrawn from the etheric we have really only an image of
the plant, and this image peculiar to it is necessarily green. We
really find in greenness the image of the plant. While we ascribe the
colour green very positively to the plant, we must ascribe greenness to
the image of the plant and must seek in the greenness the
special nature of the plant-image.
Here we come to something very important. Anyone entering the portrait
gallery of some ancient castle — such as may still frequently be
seen — will not fail to say that the portraits are only the
portraits of the ancestors, not the ancestors themselves. As a rule,
the ancestors are not there, only their portraits are to be found. In
the same way, we no more have the entity of the plant in the green
than we have the ancestors in the portraits. Now let us reflect that
the greenness is characteristic of the plant, and that of all beings
the plant is the being of life. The animal possesses a soul;
man has both spirit and soul. The mineral has no life. The plant is a
being of which life is the special characteristic. The animal has, in
addition, a soul. The mineral has as yet no soul. Man has, in addition
to the soul, a spirit. We cannot say of man, of the animal or of the
mineral, that its peculiar feature is life; it is something else. In
the case of the plant its characteristic is life. The green colour is
the image. Thus we remain entirely within the world of objective fact
in saying that green represents the lifeless image of life.
We have now — we will proceed inductively, if we with to
express ourselves in a scholarly way — we have now gained something
by means of which we can place this colour objectively in the world.
When I receive a photograph I can say that it is a portrait of Mr. N.
In the same way we can say that green is the lifeless image of life.
We do not now think merely of the subjective impression, but we
realize that green is the lifeless image of life.
Let us now take peach-blossom colour. More exactly, let us call it the
colour of the human skin; of course, it is not the same for all people,
but this colour, speaking generally, is that of the human skin. Let us
endeavour to arrive at its essential nature. As a rule we see this
human skin-colour only from outside. The question now arises as to
whether a consciousness of it, a knowledge of it, can be gained from
within, as we did in relation to the green of the plant. It can,
indeed, be done in the following way.
If a man really tries to imagine himself inwardly ensouled, and thinks
of this ensouling as passing into his physical bodily form, he can
imagine that in some way that which ensouls him flows into this form.
He expresses himself by pouring his soul-nature into his form in the
flesh-colour. What this means can best be realized by looking at a man
in whom the psychic nature is withdrawn somewhat and does not ensoul
the outer form. What colour does he then become? Green; he becomes
green. Life is there, but he becomes green. We speak of green men; we
know the peculiar green of the complexion when the soul is withdrawn;
we can see this very well by the colour of the complexion. On the other
hand, the more a person assumes the special florid tint, the more we
shall notice his experience of this tint. If you observe the
constitutional humour in a green person and in one who has a really
fresh flesh-colour, you will see that the soul experiences itself in
the flesh-colour. That which rays outwards in the colour of the skin is
none other than the man's self-experience. We may say that in
flesh-colour we have before us the image of the soul, really the image
of the soul. If, however, we go far into the world around, we must
select the lifeless peach-blossom colour for that which appears as
human flesh-colour. We do not really find it in external objects. What
appears as human flesh-colour we can only attain by various tricks of
painting. It is the image of the soul-nature, but it is not the soul
itself; there can be no doubt about that. It is the living image of
the soul. The soul experiences itself in flesh-colour. It is not
lifeless like the green of the plant, for if a man withdraws his soul
more and more he becomes green. He can become a corpse. In flesh-colour
we have the living. Thus peach-blossom colour represents the living
image of the soul.
We have now passed on to another colour. We endeavour to keep
objectively to the colour, not merely to reflect upon the subjective
impression and then to invent some kind of undulations which are then
supposed to be objective. It is palpable that it is an absurdity to
separate human experience from flesh-colour. The experience in the body
is quite different when the colour of the flesh is ruddy and when it is
greenish. There is an inward entity which really presents itself in
the colour.
We now pass on to the third colour, blue, and say: We cannot in the
first place find a being to which blue is peculiar as green is to the
plant. Nor can we speak of blue as we have spoken of the
peach-blossom-like flesh-colour of man. In the case of animals we do
not find a colour as innate to the animal as green is to the plant and
flesh-colour to man. We cannot in this way start from blue in regard to
Nature. We nevertheless wish to go forward; we will see whether we can
proceed still further in our search into the essential nature of
colour. We cannot continue by way of blue, but it is possible to
proceed first of all to the light colours; we shall, however, progress
more easily and quickly if we take the colour known as white. We cannot
say that white is peculiar to any being in the outer world. We might
turn to the mineral kingdom, but we will try in another way to form an
objective idea of white. If we have white before us and expose it to
the light, if we simply throw light upon it, we feel that it has a
certain relationship to light. At first this remains a feeling. It
will at once become more than a feeling if we turn to the sun, which
appears tinged quite distinctly in the direction of white, and to
which we must trace back all the natural illumination of our world.
We might say that what appears to us as sun, what manifests itself as
white — which at the same time shows an inner relationship to
light — has the peculiarity that of itself it does not appear to us
at all in the same way as an external colour. An external colour appears
to us upon the object. Such a thing as the white of the sun, which for
us represents light, does not appear to us directly on objects. Later
on we shall consider the kind of colour which we may call the white of
paper, chalk and the like, but to do this we shall have to enter upon
a bypath. To being with, if we venture to approach white, we must say
that we are led by white first of all to light as such. In order fully
to develop this feeling, we need do no more than say to ourselves that
the polar opposite of white is black. That black is darkness, we no
longer doubt; so we can very easily identify white with brightness,
with light as such. In short, if we raise the whole consideration into
feeling, we shall find the inner connection between white and light.
We shall go more fully into this question later.
If we reflect upon light itself, and are not tempted to cling to the
Newtonian fallacy; if we observe these things without prejudice, we
shall say to ourselves that we actually see colours.
Between white, which appears as colour, and light there must be a
special relation. We will therefore first of all exclude true white.
We know of light as such, not in the same way as other colours. Do we
really perceive light? We should not perceive colours at all if we were
not in an illuminated space. Light makes colours perceptible to us, but
we cannot say we perceive light just as we do colours. Light is indeed,
in the space where we perceive a colour, but it is in the nature of
light to make the colours perceptible. We do not see light as we see
red, yellow, blue, etc. Light is everywhere where it is bright, but we
do not see it. Light must be fixed to something if we are to perceive
it. It must be caught and reflected. Colour is on the surface of
objects; but we cannot say that light belongs to something, it is
wholly fluctuating. We ourselves, however, on awakening in the morning
when the light streams upon us and through us, feel ourselves in our
true being; we feel an inner relationship between the light and our
essential being. At night, if we awake in dense darkness, we feel we
cannot reach our real being; we are then, indeed, in a sense withdrawn
into ourselves, but through the conditions we have become something
which does not feel in its element. We know, too, that what we have
from the light is a “coming to ourselves.” That the blind do
not have it, is no contradiction; they are organized for this, and the
organization is the essential point. We bear to the light the same
relationship as that of our ego to the world, yet, again, not the
same; for we cannot say that when the light fills us we gain the ego.
Nevertheless, for us to gain this ego, light is essential, if we are
beings which see.
What underlies this fact? In light we have what is represented in
white — we have yet to learn the inner connection — we have in
light what really fills us with spirit, brings to us our own spirit.
Our ego, that is, our spiritual entity, is connected with this
condition of illumination. If we consider this feeling — all that
lives in light and colour must first be grasped as feeling — if we
consider this feeling we shall say: There is a distinction between
light and that which manifests itself as spirit in the ego, in the
“I.” Nevertheless, the light gives us something of our own
spirit. We shall have an experience through the light in such a way
that by means of the light the ego really experiences itself inwardly.
If we sum up all this, we cannot but say that the ego is spiritual and
must experience itself in the soul; this it does when it feels itself
filled with light. Reduced to a formula, it may be expressed in the
words: White or light represents the psychic image of the spirit.
It is natural that we should have to construct this third stage from
pure feeling; but if you try to sink yourselves deeply into the matter
according to these formulae, you will see that a great deal is
contained in them:
Green represents the lifeless image of Life.
Peach-blossom colour represents the living image of the Soul.
White or Light represents the psychic image of the Spirit.
Let us now pass on to black or darkness. We see that we can
speak of white or light, brightness, in connection with the relation
which exists between darkness and blackness. Let us now take black,
and try to connect something with a black darkness. We can do so.
Certainly black is easy to find as a characteristic of something even
in Nature, just as green is an essential peculiarity of the plants. We
need only look at carbon. In order to represent more clearly that
black has something to do with carbon, let us realize that carbon can
also be quite clear and transparent; but then it is a diamond. Black,
however, is so characteristic of carbon that if it were not black, if
it were white and transparent, it would be a diamond. Black is so
integral a part of carbon that the latter really owed its whole
existence to the blackness. Thus carbon owes its dark, black,
carbon-existence to the dark blackness in which it appears; just as
the plant has its image somehow in green, so carbon has its image in
black.
Let us place ourselves in blackness, absolute black around us, black
darkness — in black darkness no physical being can do anything.
Life is driven out of the plants when they become charcoal, carbon or
coal. Thus black shows itself to be foreign in life, hostile to life.
We see this in carbon, for when plants are carbonized they turn black;
Life, then, can do nothing in blackness. Soul — the soul slips away
from us when awful blackness is within us. The spirit, however,
flourishes; the spirit can penetrate the blackness and make its
influence felt within it. We may therefore say that in
blackness — and if we endeavour to investigate the art of black and
white, light and shade on a surface — we shall return to this
later — then, by drawing with black on a white surface we bring
spirit into the white surface by means of the black strokes; in the
black surface the white is spiritualized. The spirit can be brought
into the black. It is, however, the only thing that can be brought
into black. Therefore we obtain the formula:
Black represents the spiritual image of the lifeless.
We have now obtained a remarkable circle respecting the objective
nature of colour. In this circle we have in each colour an image of
something. In all circumstances colour is not a reality, it is an
image. In one case we have the image of the lifeless, in
another the image of life, in another the image of the soul, and the
image of the spirit (see Diagram 2). As we go around the circle, we
have black, the image of the lifeless; green, the image of life;
peach-blossom colour, the image of the soul; white, the image of the
spirit. If we wish to have the adjective, we must start from the
previous, thus: Black is the spiritual image of the lifeless; Green is
the lifeless image of life; Peach-blossom colour is the living image of
the soul; White is the psychic image of the spirit.
| Diagram 2 Click image for large view | |
In this circle we can indicate certain fundamental colours, Black,
White, Green and Peach-blossom colour, while always the previous word
indicates the adjective for the next one; Black is the spiritual image
of the Lifeless; Green is the lifeless image of the Living;
Peach-blossom colour is the living image of the Soul; White is the
psychic image of the Spirit.
If we take the kingdoms of Nature in this way — the lifeless
kingdom, the living kingdom, the ensouled kingdom, the spiritual
kingdom, we ascent — precisely as we ascend from the lifeless to
the living, to the ensouled, to that possessing spirit — from black
to green, to peach-blossom colour, white. As truly as I can ascend from
the lifeless, through the living, to the psychic, to the spiritual as
truly as I have there the world which surrounds me, so truly have I
the world around me in its images when I ascend from black to green,
peach-blossom colour, white. As truly as Constantine, Ferdinand, Felix,
etc. are the real ancestors, and I can ascend through this ancestral
line, so truly can I go through these portraits and have the portraits
of this line of ancestry. I have before me a world; the mineral,
plant, animal and spiritual kingdom — in as far as man is the
spiritual. I ascent through the realities; but Nature gives me only
the images of these realities. Nature is reflected. The world o colour
is not a reality; even in nature itself it is only image; the image of
the lifeless is black; that of the living is green; that of the
psychic, peach-blossom colour; and the image of the spirit is white.
This leads us to the objective nature of colour. This we had to set
forth today, since we wish to penetrate further into the nature, the
peculiar feature of colour; for it avails us nothing to say that colour
is a subjective impression. That is a matter of absolute indifference
to colour. To green it is immaterial whether we pass by and stare at
it; but it is not a matter of indifference that, if the living gives
itself its own colour, if it is not tinged by the mineral and appears
coloured in the flower, etc., if the living appear in its own colour, it
must image itself outwardly as green. That is something objective.
Whether or not we gaze at it, it is entirely subjective. The living,
however, if it appear as a living being, must appear green, it must
image itself in green; that is something objective.
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