Yellow generally presents as a happy-go-lucky sort of hue. So many well-loved foods and flavors are yellow: lemons, bananas, pineapples, corn, and butter, to name a few. In many cultures, yellow is seen as the color of sunshine, as well, bringing pleasant associations of lightness, upbeat energy, pleasant weather, and the freedom of the outdoors. Wildflowers like primroses and coreopsis and goldenrod, and cultivated cousins like the sunflower and the marigold add to yellow’s legacy of sunny energy.  In terms of natural dyeing, yellow flavonoid compounds are in plentiful supply in the botanical world, resulting in shades of yellow that have long been with us.

Bronze Age humankind treasured yellow’s energy in the form of saffron. At least as early as the 8th century BCE, the early spring saffron crocus was harvested for its precious stamens, which were used in potions which promised health and vigor. Thought to manifest the power of Mother Earth, saffron was valued not only as a medicine, but also as an aphrodisiac, a gorgeous natural dyestuff, and a flavoring and coloring agent for food. It eventually captured high prices in the ancient world, a fact also true today even though saffron is valued now almost exclusively in a food context.

However, saffron is not the only revered yellow substance. Gold, that ultimate and almost universal symbol of wealth, luxury, and excess, has been an object of fascination since at least 5,000 BCE, with evidence of mining and usage in Egypt and Mesopotamia.  The Varna Necropolis in Bulgaria reveals a horde of golden grave goods dating from 4600 BCE. Discoveries there yield likely evidence of gold’s association with power and authority, a notion that comes into sharp archeological focus in hierarchical Egypt not long after.

At the household level, accumulating jewelry was a sort of savings account as well as a status symbol. It could be sold when necessary, as well as worn with ostentation.  And it is here that yellow’s vices come into play: pride is associated with gold. Gold breeds corruption. Corruption branches out to decadence, greed, and avarice. The downsides of our attraction to gold form the negative end of the symbolic spectrum of yellow. In the Medieval era, for example, Judas, the apostle who let Jesus fall into Roman hands, was often depicted in a yellow cloak. Paid for his treachery, he was clad in the color of greed.  

This association with betrayal infused yellow with yet another vice: apostacy.  Cathars, members of a Gnostic Christian sect of the late 12th and early 13th centuries in the Languedoc region of France, were forced to repent their beliefs or be excommunicated by the Vatican. Part of their penance was to wear a large yellow cross sewn to their outer garments. Visibly labeled as heretics, they were frequently interrogated and tortured by the Inquisition. A twenty year military crusade mounted by the Vatican eventually destroyed them. The link between a centuries-old emblem of apostacy and mid-20th century depravity is all too clear: the yellow cross of he Cathars and the yellow star of the Holocaust of WWII were horrible emblems of otherness, discrimination and destruction.

Yellow’s otherness expressed itself in other ways, as well. Late 19th century French poets, playwrights and essayists who explored non-establishment style and substance were often published in books covered with inexpensive paper that was more off-white than yellow but was called yellow all the same. Les livres jaunes, as they were known, were considered decadent, a bit beyond the pale, stretching the bounds of propriety.

Eventually the phrase “yellow book” became a thing in and of itself, and the very decadent and risqué Aubrey Beardsley founded a creative (and downright sexy) journal called The Yellow Book, whose cover was quite glaringly yellow.  His sly, elegant eroticism charged the publication with a shocking electricity. At the same time, the phrase yellow journalism was coming into usage across the pond in the United States, thanks to William Randolph Hearst’s bombastic blend of current events, opinion and prurient details of the personal lives of the prominent.  He could be described as the grandfather of “fake news.” 

The shock value of yellow continues on today. In Italy, films and cheap novels that build on aspects of horror, crime, sexploitation, and slasher genres are referred to as “giallo.” The over the top decadence of yellow is harnessed, as with Beardsley and Hearst, to communicate the delicious pleasures of trash and fright.

All of this is, of course, a far cry from sunshine and butter. Poor yellow! But alas, its sad story isn’t quite over. Twentieth century designers considered yellow to be the most visible color. Its use with black in the logos and product design of all manner of symbols of 20th century efficiency and convenience (cf: the classic New York City taxicab, the Yellow Pages, the Western Union logo) stems from this idea of communicating directly and decisively. Yellow was quite often seen and heard in attempts to rise above the din of the busy, grimy, glamorous Metropolis of the last century, and it seemed eventually to succumb to overuse. How can a color be the most visible if it’s seen everywhere, every day, all the time?

Yellow’s status as the most visible color was recently awarded by scientists to a medium shade of neon green – more or less the color of a classic tennis ball. This color is now frequently used in sporting goods, modern team uniforms, safety vests (the gilet jaunes of France are almost this color), and other fast-paced, high stakes situations. The new energetic yellow is…green?

Yet, before we mourn yellow’s passing: enter turmeric. This ancient Ayurvedic anti-inflammatory is also a dyestuff. It’s not particularly wash-fast, but it does produce a lovely, luminous, golden shade of yellow. It telegraphs messages of health and naturalness. It is tender and lovely. It brings us back to sunshine and the outdoors. Perhaps all will be well again with yellow.