Black and White – History and Values. Article by Guillaumette Duplaix, Editor of RUNWAY MAGAZINE, Keeper of Colorful Truths. Photos: RUNWAY MAGAZINE archives.
A Color Debate Through the Ages
In the 1660s, many theories proposed that five fundamental colors were enough to create all others: black, white, red, yellow, and blue.
At the time, Black and White were still considered colors.
But in 1667, a groundbreaking series of experiments by Isaac Newton radically altered the perception of color. By passing sunlight through a glass prism, Newton observed the decomposition of white light into a fixed sequence of colored rays—what he termed the spectrum: violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red.
In this new spectral classification, black and white were no longer included.
Black came to be understood as the total absence of light, and white as the sum of all light wavelengths, but not a color per se. Science thus banished black and white from the realm of “true colors,” a belief that persisted well into the 19th and 20th centuries.
Scientific Properties of Black and White
In additive color synthesis (light-based), black results from an absence of color altogether. The exact “shade” of black rendered depends on a device’s technical capacity and contrast ratio.
In subtractive synthesis (pigment-based), black can be achieved either by using a pigment that absorbs the full visible spectrum, or by combining complementary pigments—such as cyan, magenta, and yellow—to absorb all wavelengths collectively.
White, on the other hand, is a chromatic field perceived as bright yet devoid of any dominant hue. It emerges from the balanced combination of all visible light. According to Newton’s experiments—and echoed in Goethe’s theories—white is the visual counterpoint to black, not a color in itself.
Leonardo da Vinci himself considered white to be an absence of color.
Black & White in Print: CMYK
In professional printing, the CMYK model (Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, Key/Black) is used instead of RGB. Here, black is coded as:
- C30, M30, Y30, K100 — ideal for rich, deep black.
- Default black (K100 alone) often prints dull and greyish on large areas.
Print professionals may advise varying formulas to intensify the depth of black. For example, a well-balanced “rich black” may include 30% of each primary plus 100% black. On the other hand, white in CMYK is C0, M0, Y0, K0—literally no ink at all.
Black & White: The Pantone Universe
Surprising as it may be, Pantone produces dedicated guides for black and white. They offer precise variations used across fashion, design, and branding.
| Color | Hex | RGB | HSL | LAB | CMYK |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Black | #000000 | 0, 0, 0 | 0°, 0%, 0% | 0, 0, 0 | 30, 30, 30, 100 |
| White | #FFFFFF | 255, 255, 255 | 0°, 0%, 100% | 100, 0, 0 | 0, 0, 0, 0 |
Yet in reality, no pigment or screen ever creates a perfect black. The deepest black ever engineered is called Vantablack—developed in 2012 from vertically aligned carbon nanotubes, absorbing 99.965% of light.
Perception & Fear: The Alienation of Color
France, in particular, has long suffered a subtle trauma in its relationship with color.
Nationally, communication relies heavily on blue, white, and black. Blue—while symbolizing optimism—has, through overuse, begun to evoke melancholy. White is often misunderstood as purity. Black is equated with formality or elitism. But what happens when color itself is feared?
This fear has a name: chromophobia—the irrational aversion to color.
Since antiquity, Western culture has seen periodic efforts to purge color from art, architecture, and even literature. Often seen as vulgar, childish, or superficial, color was relegated to the fringes.
Some shades of white in design no longer inspire peace—they command sterility, evoke repulsion. It’s not an absence of color, but an aggressive bleaching—white as erasure.
Philosophical Resistance: From Melville to Goethe
In some circles, black and white are revered as stable, “noble” values, while color is condemned as disruptive or feminine. Thinkers like Charles Blanc (ironically named) argued that color threatens the purity of art. In his words:
“Painting will be lost to color, just as humanity was lost to Eve.”
Color, for him, was a sensual distraction. Drawing—structured, masculine, elevated—was to dominate.
Goethe, in his 19th-century Theory of Colours, wrote:
“Savage nations, uneducated people, and children have a great predilection for vivid colors… while cultivated people avoid them.”
Color was relegated to nature’s lower forms—flowers, minerals, animals. For Enlightenment thinkers, color was temptation; drawing was virtue.
The Distrust of Color: Charles Blanc, Rousseau, and the Legacy of Chromophobia
Charles Blanc, renowned 19th-century color theorist, wrote near the end of his life:
“The union of drawing and color is essential to create painting, but drawing must retain its supremacy over color. If not, painting is doomed. It will be lost to color, just as humanity was lost to Eve.”
A vivid reaction born of phobia. To Blanc, color was a permanent internal threat—a foreign body that, unless subdued, would lead to the collapse of all culture.
For minds like his, color carried connotations of the feminine, the primitive, the irrational. It was seen not as elevation, but degeneration—a sensual descent into chaos.
He elaborated further:
“Intelligent beings speak a language of sound. Living beings—animals and plants—express themselves through shapes and contours. But inanimate nature speaks through color. A stone, for instance, tells us: I am an emerald.”
In other words, color belongs to the lower order of nature. As one ascends the intellectual ladder, drawing becomes the superior means of expression.
“It seems that the eternal colorist was less jealous of his secret than the eternal draftsman, for he revealed to us the ideal of color through the rainbow—where we glimpse, in a perfect fading, the mother tones that generate universal harmony.”
But beware, Blanc warned: the taste for color demands sacrifice, diverts the spirit from its rightful path, and devours the mind. Color can make you lose your head, whereas drawing, by contrast, elevates the soul.
From his theory emerges a stark conclusion:
Color is secondary—and dangerous.
The Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau reinforced this fear in his own writings:
“Beautiful colors please the eye, but this pleasure is purely sensory. Remove the lines from a painting, and the colors will do nothing.”
Likewise, Goethe’s Theory of Colours (19th century) echoes a striking cultural bias:
“It must be noted that savage nations, uncultivated people, and children have a strong predilection for bright colors; that animals are enraged by certain hues; and that cultivated individuals avoid bright colors both in their clothing and surroundings, making every effort to shield themselves from such sights.”
The fear of corruption or contamination by color has haunted Western civilization since antiquity. This chromophobia—veiled in theory, cloaked in reason—reveals a profound cultural unease with the autonomy, intensity, and emotional pull of color.
Black & White in Fine Art
Pierre Soulages, a modern French painter, devoted his life to what he called outrenoir—“beyond black.”
“My tool was no longer black itself, but the light secreted by black.”
His works refracted ambient light off textured black surfaces, turning black into an active participant in perception.
Kazimir Malevich, Russian pioneer of Suprematism, created the first true monochrome of contemporary art: White on White. Using two distinct shades—cool bluish for the square, warm ochre for the background—he painted absence, paradox, and spiritual elevation. The piece resides at MoMA in New York.
Communication: The Myth of Clean Black & White
There is no shortage of marketing literature and communication guides that venture into the often perilous territory of describing black, white, or their combination. But few navigate it with accuracy, nuance, or cultural insight.
The Myth of White: Purity, Perfection… or Misconception?
Think white symbolizes purity or perfection? Think again.
White is neither a color, nor inherently positive, nor universally suitable.
It’s not neutral. And it certainly doesn’t “go with everything.”
Marketing professionals often suggest that white implies cleanliness, clarity, or sterility. Hence its frequent use in branding for cleaning products, optical chains, medical institutions, and pharmaceutical sectors. White has become the go-to tone for visual codes that evoke health, order, or hygiene.
But thankfully, these tired clichés are beginning to fade. Today, white is rarely left alone. It is increasingly paired with complementary colors, softened with gradients, or used in contrast to other tones to avoid clinical monotony.
So yes, you can communicate using white—but please abandon the myths.
Use it wisely, with balance, and most of all: do not impose constraints where none exist. The modern eye is trained to interpret color as code—and white without context is no longer a default for elegance or simplicity. It can just as easily suggest absence, distance, or coldness.
The Strategic Power of Black
Black remains immensely popular, especially among brands seeking a timeless, sophisticated positioning. In fashion particularly, black is often synonymous with luxury, discretion, and authority. It’s not a coincidence that so many labels wrap themselves in black to denote exclusivity.
But let me share a trade secret:
Black is not just symbolic—it’s practical.
It allows for safe reproduction of logos, documents, or brand visuals across any platform. It provides excellent legibility for text, enhances contrast for illustrations, and offers the versatility needed when no print expert is at hand. In the fashion world—where technical printing knowledge is often limited—black is the safest route, particularly for physical media and packaging.
Black and white are not inherently good or bad—they are extremes. And to use them effectively, you must anchor them within your own brand language: your colors, your style, your signature. Rhythm, hierarchy, and visual tension are created through interplay—not isolation.
The Real Challenge: Culture, Symbolism, and Missteps
The true difficulty of using black and white in communication lies not in design—but in cultural meaning.
Take white:
In Western countries such as Europe or the United States, using white may seem risk-free. But imagine creating a communication campaign for Islamic countries?
In Islam, white is worn during the holy pilgrimage to Mecca—a deeply spiritual and sacred context. Any use of white must be infused with respect and cultural awareness.
In China, white is associated with mourning and death.
In parts of Asia and Slavic cultures, white also signifies funerary rituals.
In Ancient Egypt, white symbolized the afterlife.
In African traditions, white masks are used to represent the dead.
And these are just a few examples.
So while white may be marketed as “pure” in the West, in other regions, it can evoke sorrow, loss, or transcendence. Never assume white is neutral.
Now black may appear simpler—but beware.
Uncontrolled or unconsidered use of black can appear dull, cold, or oppressive.
When not mastered, black becomes heavy—negative rather than noble, rigid rather than refined.
A Call for Cultural Fluency
Black and white cannot be used arbitrarily. They demand a precise cultural education for every region, audience, and context.
Fail to understand that—and your communication risks falling flat, or worse, causing offense, confusion, or irrelevance.
So next time you choose black or white in your palette, ask yourself not just what it looks like—but what it means.
Because in global communication, intention without understanding is nothing.
Black & White in Cinema
From the invention of motion pictures until the 1950s, films were shot almost exclusively in black and white. It wasn’t simply an aesthetic choice—it was the technological norm.
In 1928, the American company Technicolor revolutionized cinematography by developing a three-strip panchromatic filming process. This involved layering three black-and-white film reels inside a single-lens camera, each capturing a different range of light wavelengths through trichromatic filters. This groundbreaking method allowed for the creation of vibrant, stable color images.
Shortly after, Walt Disney signed an exclusive five-year contract with Technicolor. In 1932, he released the first full-color animated short: “Flowers and Trees” from the Silly Symphonies series—a milestone that opened the doors to color animation.
By 1939, color had entered the mainstream. The Wizard of Oz famously employed a dramatic shift from sepia-toned black-and-white to full Technicolor—visually marking the protagonist’s transition from reality into fantasy. It wasn’t just a visual trick—it was a storytelling device.
Still, even as color became more accessible, some directors intentionally returned to black and white, using it not out of necessity, but for artistic impact.
For instance, Alfred Hitchcock chose to film Psycho (1960) in black and white. His reasoning was precise: the film’s infamous shower scene, with its splashes of blood, would have been too graphic, even grotesque, in color. Black and white softened the horror, replacing gore with psychological tension. It served the atmosphere he intended—mysterious, chilling, and emotionally claustrophobic.
Steven Spielberg, decades later, made a similar choice. He declared it was impossible to portray the horror of the Holocaust in color. Thus, Schindler’s List (1993) was filmed entirely in black and white. The result was stark, reverent, and emotionally unrelenting—a visual elegy rather than a spectacle.
In 2011, the French film The Artist—a silent, black-and-white homage to early Hollywood—swept over 100 awards worldwide, including three Golden Globes, seven BAFTAs, six César Awards, one Goya, and five Academy Awards. A contemporary work that dared to look backward, and in doing so, moved the world forward.
Of course, these are only a few iconic masterpieces. The history of black-and-white cinema is vast, textured, and enduring—an archive of shadows that continue to shape the language of light.
Photography and the Language of Black & White
IIn photography, black and white is not merely a lack of color—it is a deliberate translation into shades of grey. The interplay of light and contrast becomes paramount. Every nuance, every shadow, every highlight becomes a part of the story told without hue.
In the early days of photography, film was designed exclusively for black-and-white use, crafted with specific emulsions intended for precise photographic themes. Each type of film had a distinct behavior depending on lighting, subject matter, and the photographer’s intent.
A fundamental characteristic of any film is its sensitivity to light, measured in ISO (International Standards Organization) values.
For black-and-white film, ISO typically ranges from 25 to 3200:
- Lower ISO values (e.g., 25 or 50) require more light and produce ultra-fine detail with almost no visible grain.
- Higher ISO values (e.g., 1600 or 3200) allow shooting in low-light conditions but result in coarser grain, lending the image a more textured, raw aesthetic.
The process begins with the capture—the exposure of film to light through the camera lens. This is the first stage in analog black-and-white photography. Once exposed, the film must undergo development, during which it is treated with chemical baths that make it light-insensitive and reveal the image.
The result is a negative: a reversed image where light areas appear dark and dark areas appear light. This negative is then used to create the final photographic print.
During both capture and printing, photographers often use filters to manipulate contrast and tonal balance.
- At the moment of exposure, color filters (typically yellow, orange, or red) can darken skies, enhance skin tones, or separate similar tones.
- If no filter was used while shooting, they can be applied during the printing process instead.
In that case, the negative is projected with controlled light onto photosensitive paper. The light passes through a series of contrast filters, affecting how the paper reacts. These contrast grades typically range from 0 (soft contrast) to 5 (hard contrast), in half-grade increments.
This technical dance between emulsion, light, paper, and filter creates the rich, sculptural dimension we associate with masterful black-and-white photography.
It is therefore no surprise that many of the greatest fashion photographers built their legacies on black and white:
- Lee Miller, whose portraits captured both glamour and war.
- Richard Avedon, who sculpted personalities through light and shadow.
- Helmut Newton, with his provocative chiaroscuro.
- Peter Lindbergh, who stripped down fashion to its bare emotional core.
- Irving Penn, whose lens celebrated form, gesture, and purity.
Their works are not simply images—they are architectures of tone, shaped by the meticulous use of light, grain, contrast, and silence.
For a deeper dive into these masters of fashion photography, I invite you to explore my article:
Photographers Who Shaped Fashion – RUNWAY MAGAZINE
Fashion and the Monochrome Legacy
In fashion, the world of monochrome has long been dominated by the timeless dialogue between black and white. This duality found concrete expression through some of the most iconic names in couture history.
It was Christian Dior who helped formalize this aesthetic language. While known for his delicate sense of romantic femininity, he also explored the stark contrast of black and white before eventually refining his palette toward his legendary shades of grey: Gris Trianon and Gris Montaigne—tones that still define the Dior house identity today.
But it was Coco Chanel who immortalized black and white as an eternal code of elegance.
For Chanel, black was essential: the perfect framework to highlight and elevate white. She didn’t see the two as opposites, but as necessary complements, each incomplete without the other.
Color, when introduced, came in carefully measured doses—through accessories, jewelry, or accents, never overwhelming the dialogue between light and dark. Her contribution to modern elegance was nothing short of revolutionary: the little black dress, now a global symbol of understated sophistication, was her creation.
By the mid-1960s, André Courrèges brought a futuristic minimalism to the fore. His designs featured striking geometric constructions made of alternating black bands and crisp white panels—transforming fashion into modernist architecture.
And of course, Yves Saint Laurent, that eternal master of visual poetry, wielded black and white with absolute control. Whether through sharply tailored tuxedos or bold contrasts in his eveningwear, he ensured that monochrome was never boring, never passive. Under his hand, it became a language of power, seduction, and clarity.
These designers didn’t just use black and white.
They installed it in fashion’s visual DNA.
Each example affirms that black and white are not trends—they are statements, structures, philosophies of dress. From haute couture to ready-to-wear, from rebellion to refinement, black and white remain unchallenged pillars of style.
Conclusion
Black and white are not colors—they are perceptions, NOT the “colors”.
They are chromatic polarities that shape our emotional, artistic, and cultural lives. They anchor design, fuel symbolism, and provoke reaction.
Black and white will always remain present in our lives—holding a special, privileged place for some, and a symbolic one for others—within the vast palette of colors and shades.
One thing is certain:
Black and white will never leave you indifferent.
Guillaumette Duplaix, Editor of RUNWAY MAGAZINE, Keeper of Colorful Truths
