The Color That Was Worth More Than Gold

You probably think blue is common.
Sky blue. Jeans blue. Ink blue.
Just... blue.

But not so long ago—
—it was the rarest thing on Earth.
And there’s one blue that ruled them all.

Ultramarine.
Not just a color.
A treasure.
A secret.
A longing.

It began—not in a lab, or a paint tube—
—but in the ground.
Deep beneath the mountains of Afghanistan...
...where a stone called lapis lazuli formed in the folds of the earth.

Not many people knew where to find it.
Fewer still could reach it.
But when they did—
they carved it from the rock by hand...
...carried it over deserts...
...loaded it on the backs of camels.

And somewhere along that journey—
someone figured out how to turn this deep blue stone into paint.

But not easily.

To make ultramarine...
...you had to crush the lapis lazuli into a fine dust.
Then knead it with wax, resins, oils, and lye—
—over and over again.

The blue pigment would separate from the grey stone...
...floating up, pure and bright, like cream from milk.

It was slow.
Painstaking.
And unbelievably expensive.

For centuries—
Ultramarine was the most prized pigment in the world.

More expensive than gold.
Sometimes more valuable than the painting itself.

Painters couldn’t just use it freely.
They had to ask permission.

Commissioners—usually the Church or aristocracy—would approve it for special subjects only.

And so—ultramarine was reserved.
For saints.
For the Virgin Mary.

That’s why she’s always in blue robes.
Not because of tradition.
But because she was seen as worthy of the rarest color.

To paint her in ultramarine...
...was to honor her with wealth made visible.

But there’s a twist.
As centuries passed—artists began to feel... trapped.

What if you had something to say, but not the budget to say it in blue?
What if your idea burned—but you couldn’t afford the color it deserved?

For a long time—there was nothing you could do.
Blue was controlled.
Restricted.

Until the 19th century.
When everything changed.

In 1826, a man in France named Jean-Baptiste Guimet did something remarkable.
He made ultramarine... synthetically.

From clay, soda, sulfur, and heat—
he recreated the same deep brilliance...
...without the stone.

No camels.
No mountains.
No gatekeeping.

Just blue.
For everyone.

And suddenly—
ultramarine became democratic.
Accessible.
Free from the priests and price tags.

The name?
“Ultra-marine.”
It means “beyond the sea.”

Because the pigment came from far away.
From over the ocean.
From places most people would never see in their lives.

But now—
you can hold it in a tube.
Dip your brush.
Cover a canvas.

Without even thinking about it.

But maybe—
we should think about it.

Every time you see that rich, velvety blue—
that impossible color between shadow and light—
you’re touching history.

You’re borrowing something ancient.
Something sacred.
Something someone once crossed a desert for.

And now it’s in your hand.

Not bad for a color.

Not bad... for something we used to think only the heavens could afford.