Why Blue? The Emotional and Historical Power of Cyanotype

Artist Jo Howell lives and works in the North East of England and has specialised in cyanotype for more than fifteen years. In this essay, she explores her lifelong connection to the colour blue and why artists continue to return to it across centuries and cultures.

A Life Spent Chasing Blue

My relationship with blue began long before I discovered cyanotype.

As a photographer, I was trained in the traditional silver nitrate darkroom. I can still remember the distinctive smell of developer, stop bath and fixer, the dim glow of red safelights, and the quiet anticipation of watching an image slowly emerge in a tray. For years, that darkroom was my creative home.

But over time, living with fibromyalgia made the process increasingly difficult. Long hours standing, handling chemicals, and working in enclosed spaces became physically demanding. I loved analogue photography, but my body was asking me to find another way.

Then I discovered cyanotype.

Instead of darkness, there was sunlight. Instead of harsh chemical odours, there was the earthy scent of iron salts. Instead of spending hours indoors, I could work outside with paper, water and light. Cyanotype allowed me to continue making photographic work while reconnecting with the natural world.

And, of course, there was the blue.

That extraordinary blue became more than a colour. It became a place of comfort, creativity and possibility.

Why Are Humans So Drawn to Blue?

Blue has always held a special place in human culture.

It is the colour of the sky on a clear day and the sea stretching towards the horizon. It can feel calming and expansive, yet also mysterious and profound. Unlike many colours found abundantly in nature, blue pigments were historically rare and expensive, giving the colour a unique status across civilisations.

Psychologists often associate blue with trust, stability, reflection and calm. Businesses use blue in branding to communicate reliability. Spiritual traditions have used blue to represent wisdom, divinity and transcendence.

Yet blue also contains contradictions. It can evoke melancholy as easily as serenity. We speak of “feeling blue” while simultaneously seeking blue spaces for peace and contemplation.

Perhaps that complexity explains why artists never seem to tire of it.

Ancient Pigments and the Value of Blue

Thousands of years ago, blue was one of the most prized colours available.

Ancient Egyptians created some of the earliest blue pigments and also valued stones such as lapis lazuli and turquoise. These precious materials were used to decorate statues, jewellery and funerary objects, often combined with gold to symbolise divinity, eternity and protection.

Lapis lazuli travelled vast distances from mines in present-day Afghanistan to reach artists and craftsmen. Its rarity made blue a luxury colour, reserved for objects of significance and power.

Throughout history, blue carried meaning beyond decoration. It represented heaven, water, spirituality and the infinite.

To use blue was often to elevate a subject.

Blue in Religious Art

The sacred associations of blue continued throughout the medieval and Renaissance periods.

Ultramarine, created from finely ground lapis lazuli, became one of the most expensive pigments available to painters. Patrons frequently commissioned it for the robes of the Virgin Mary, associating blue with purity, devotion and heavenly grace.

Across the world, blue also became central to religious architecture and decoration.

The Blue Mosque in Istanbul surrounds visitors with thousands of blue tiles that create an atmosphere of contemplation and serenity. In Portugal, blue-and-white azulejo tiles tell stories of faith, history and everyday life across churches, monasteries and public buildings.

Again and again, blue appears wherever humans seek to express something larger than themselves.

Blue in Photography

Photography has its own deep relationship with blue.

The medium began largely in monochrome, and my own photographic journey started in the black, white and grey world of silver gelatin printing. Yet one of photography’s earliest alternative processes would become defined by a single colour.

Cyanotype was discovered in 1842 by Sir John Herschel, who developed the iron-based process while experimenting with photographic chemistry. The process was simple, affordable and remarkably stable.

Its potential was quickly recognised by Anna Atkins, who used cyanotype to create detailed photograms of seaweed specimens for Photographs of British Algae. Published in the 1840s, the work is widely regarded as the first photographically illustrated scientific book.

Atkins achieved something extraordinary. At a time when women were largely excluded from academic institutions, she used photography as a scientific and artistic tool, creating work that remains influential nearly two centuries later.

Cyanotype’s Unique Blue

What makes cyanotype different from every other photographic process is its unmistakable colour.

The rich Prussian blue produced by iron salts is instantly recognisable. It is not merely a colour applied to an image; it is the image itself.

Every cyanotype seems to capture something of the sky and sea that inspired humanity’s fascination with blue in the first place. The prints feel simultaneously ancient and contemporary, scientific and poetic.

For me, cyanotype transformed photography into something more accessible and joyful. The process is inexpensive, forgiving and wonderfully direct. It strips image-making back to essentials: light, water, chemistry and time.

Most importantly, it allowed me to continue creating when traditional darkroom work became increasingly difficult.

Far from making me feel blue, cyanotype has brought immense happiness into my life.

Why Contemporary Artists Still Return to Blue

Artists have been captivated by blue for generations.

Pablo Picasso used it to express grief and introspection during his Blue Period. Claude Monet explored blue light and atmosphere in his landscapes. Yves Klein became so obsessed with the colour that he developed his own signature hue, International Klein Blue. Yoko Ono transformed blue into conceptual artworks that invited viewers to carry pieces of the sky home with them.

Blue continues to resonate because it never becomes outdated.

It is as relevant today as it was in ancient Egypt. It bridges art, science, psychology, spirituality and visual culture. It speaks simultaneously to memory and possibility.

Contemporary cyanotype artists continue this tradition, finding new ways to explore identity, landscape, ecology and personal experience through the medium’s distinctive blue.

Why Blue Still Matters

Blue occupies a unique place in human imagination.

It can be the colour of sadness, but also of hope. It can suggest distance, yet create intimacy. It appears in religious art, scientific discovery, photography and contemporary creative practice.

For me, cyanotype embodies all of these meanings at once. It connects me to photographic history, to artists across centuries, and to the simple pleasure of making images in sunlight.

Blue is not just a colour.

It is a way of seeing.

What does the colour blue mean to you? Is there a particular artwork, place, memory or creative process that you associate with blue? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

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