So, today I was in the middle of what will hopefully be the final pass of “Warrior Poet’s Guide to Writing Plug-ins for GIMP 2.10”. It’s been an interesting journey; I had to resort to demonstrating techniques in C instead of Python, as an example. I’ve also reviewed and completely rewritten about half of the chapters. Punctuality may be important, but quality and information-congruency, and while-we’re-on-the-subject longevity, are a bit more valuable to me.
I got to the point where colors were described in GEGL, in the format of an interpreted string. The means of doing so is relatively simple—you can define any color in an RGB or RGBA color space, using a range in zero to two hundred and fifty five, a percentage, or a floating point between zero and one. Random experimentation showed me that you could even mix and match them—you could have your R component as a percentage, G as an integer value, and B as a fraction of one, and GEGL would figure it out. I honestly have no idea why anyone would do this, but it was a fun discovery.
What’s more, you can use the full CSS color constant list, right in your program. Instead of this:
GeglColor *color = gegl_color_new("rgb(0.0, 1.0, 0.0)");
You can do this:
GeglColor *color = gegl_color_new("lime");
To a lot of people, that may seem like a good thing; but for me, the hair on the back of my neck was already standing on end. The more I thought about it, the more random it seemed, “standardized” or not. To begin, why is “Green” defined as only roughly 50% of the green channel; but “Lime” designated as high-intensity green? Moreover, have any of us actually seen a lime that it objectively this color? Because I definitely haven’t, of any species, and I make black-lime teas and key-lime pies that will just melt you.
Moreover, on what hardware were these colors determined? One monitor to another, even modern models, will render things slightly differently. In the old days (early-1990s) we had it relatively simple—everybody had agreed to a resolution of 640×480 for television screens, and there were only three phosphors commonly in use for them—we had yttrium oxide-sulfide with a europium activator for red, zinc sulfide and copper for green (also known as P31), and zinc sulfide with just a hint of silver for blue (P22B). These were easy to get our hands on, they consistently emitted the same color when they were sprayed with electrons from the CRT, and people could plan on them.
It’s almost 2020 now, and we now have IPS displays, LCDs, a scattered handful of CRTs still lingering around (probably), plasma, LED displays—heck, OLED and QLED complicate it even further. These all render color in decidedly different ways; in fact, Sharp even introduced its Quattron television series that had an additional channel for yellow built into the display. (And no, there was no technical reason to do this; a study at Queen Mary University in London showed any difference to be negligible. There was no data being broadcast to drive the yellow sub-pixel!)
What’s more, the human eye is only roughly capable of differentiating between about a hundred different tones per type of cone cell (color receptor), which is 100 × 100 × 100 = 1,000,000 colors. Which tones they happen to be is subject to both variation and interpretation, and it is apparently possible to train your eye to have a “refined palette” for tonal differences.
For this reason, radiologists, as an example, will buy 8K displays with as many as twelve bits of channel sensitivity—that’s 4,096 tonal variations per color element—to prevent relevant medical data, like-I-don’t-know-cancer, from being lost in the overflow. Such displays aren’t cheap. If you’re curious, a typical monitor only has eight bits of color depth, or 256 different tones, if that, and some error on which tone is reproduced; but don’t worry, unless you’ve trained your eyes for years, you will not likely notice the difference on a 10-bit monitor.
The variation in color between displays is not a new thing; I remember as a child finding a “hue” dial on an old CRT TV set, which seemed to alter the color between red and blue. I remember it being decidedly skewed toward red, which may have been an artifact of the set. What it ultimately did was alter the strength of the aligning electromagnet inside the set, spraying more electrons toward one edge of the RGB-phosphor-chain than the other. (I spent some time playing with it and learned a great deal about how video worked even then, down to the RGB sub-pixels, using water magnification through drops from a squirt gun, much to the anger of my grandfather.)
So how did we come to this strange set of CSS colors? If they don’t even represent the same thing on every monitor, why choose arbitrary names? Where did the standard come from? Pleasantly, it’s at least an old standard. It came from the X Windowing System, initially release X10R3. If you happen to be using a Unix-based operating system on the Linux or BSD kernel, you can still find a relic of the original file, at
That was February 1986, more-or-less the dawn of color computer monitors. VGA monitors didn’t even exist until 1987, so we’re really down in the mud here. The best we had was CGA/EGA, and only 69 colors were listed at the time. The file was originally written by Jim Gettys at MIT; specifically calibrated for the VT240 monitor. It had an 80 × 24 character display, and cost just short of US$1,400. (Doing the math, that’s maybe 73¢ per character.)
We didn’t get the full traditional range of colors until around 1989, when Paul Raveling, John C. Thomas, and Jim Fulton (on file maintenance) added the standard named set. Fulton made a number of stupid-but-critical changes to the file, including removing the color “transparent” (that would have been a serious problem down the road…) and a few blank lines. He calibrated everything to his specific HP monitor.
In a sense, that answers most of my questions right there. I think we can rest assured that (0, 255, 0) looks exactly like lime on Jim Fulton’s exact monitor that he was using in 1989. On that specific monitor, it is a damned fine lime green. And no, we don’t actually have any idea what model number of HP monitor that actually was.
Most of his color names purportedly came from Sinclair paint swatches. This brings me to a new concern, though; many years ago, I worked at a paint desk at a local Home Depot. We had a fancy little marketing gadget that would match the color of the paint to any sample put under it, which sounds like it works better than it actually does. Most of the time, after formulating a sample, we would get to the real concern—was this not-quite-objective photographic match precisely what the customer had in mind?
After a while, employees developed something of an artist’s touch for adjusting the color to meet customer expectations. I was well aware even then of how arbitrary the device was, but it was importantly a place to start. Right next to it we had a display allowing people to view paint samples under fluorescent, “natural”, and “incandescent” light, which of course were all actually fluorescent bulbs which may, or may not, have a light filter wrapped around them. And no, I didn’t trust it completely, but like I said, it was a start.
Interestingly, John C. Thomas eventually took inspiration from a box of Crayola crayons, while refining the color set. Almost comically, more than half of the colors used were represented. The last real update to the X11 set was in 1994; but in 2001, the W3C decided to merge the X11 set with the CSS3 standard.
There were immediate problems here, mostly involving color-nomenclature overlap. The grays, as an example, were entirely off. I honestly have no idea how it was standardized, but evidently the W3C just decided to codify what everyone was already doing.
I suppose this post has gone on for long enough; but I’ll end it with a (slightly-desperate) plea to stop using these arbitrary color names; and also note that a lot of them came from the defunct Sinclair paints, and Crayola; not that they had any idea that they were being used as a reference. I’ll leave a half-hour-long talk and CSS Conf 2014 from Alex Sexton here, which covers a lot of the same material. His email citations are quite entertaining!
If anyone ever finds what remains of that old HP monitor, it’s probably worth millions now.