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Caravaggio, whose dramatic use of lighting had a formative influence on Baroque painting, created 'Concert of Youths' (also known as 'The Musicians') in 1595 using a deeply saturated cochineal to highlight the robe, but using the color far more sparingly to blush the figure's face.
New Spain artist Cristóbal de Villalpando embraced the pigment. He lived and worked all his life in Mexico and painted 'Saint Rose Tempted by the Devil' in 1695.
Caravaggio again used cochineal as an essential element of his style, creating a dramatic contrast in 'The Incredulity of Saint Thomas,' created in 1601-1602. It remains one of his most famous paintings.
In his 1610 'Portrait of Isabella Brandt,' Flemish master Peter Paul Rubens used paint made from cochineal to versatile effect, using the pigment to depict the wall a deep glowing red while rendering the Bible in the sitter's hand a subtle crimson.
They could be mistaken for tiny white stains on the leaves of the prickly pear cacti that they live off. But a closer look reveals that these are clusters of parasitic bugs, not much bigger than fleas.
Cochineal production continued in the post-colonial period in Mexico, Peru, and Argentina, among other places in South America. It's also harvested across Spain's Canary Islands.
But in a throwback to tradition, many artisans around the world prefer the superior properties of cochineal dye for their natural and handmade textiles.
Sources: (BBC) (World History Encyclopedia) (Library of Congress) (IMBAREX)
See also: How insects can boost your health
It takes some 25,000 live insects or 70,000 dried specimens to make one pound (450 grams) of dye.
Mesoamerican peoples in southern Mexico were aware of the bug's unique qualities as early as 2000 BCE.
The pigment was used to create paints for codices and murals, and to enhance various ceramic artifacts.
Cortés described in several letters to the Spanish king, Charles V, the spun cotton in all colors found on sale in Tenochtitlan's markets. But he was especially smitten with those dyed from cochineal.
The Mexican cochineal insect wasn't the only bug blessed with the ability to produce a precious crimson pigment.
The colorant made from these tiny insects was an astonishingly vivid red. Red was an important color for Mesoamerican cultures, as it signified blood and, therefore, life. As a commodity, the dye was an equally important part of trade in ancient Mesoamerica and South America.
Much later, works by Paul Gauguin, Auguste Renoir, and Vincent van Gogh were all found to have elements of cochineal red set within detail, for example the blob of red in Van Gogh's 'Bedroom in Arles' (1888).
The insects are collected from cacti and then subjected to extreme heat before being crushed. Methods of production and the temperature used vary, which dictates the color shade of the resulting dye.
Use of carmine extended to dyeing strands of thread that was weaved into colorful tapestries, table covers, or wall hangings.
And the dye provided a vibrant component in the manufacture of military tunics and ceremonial apparel.
The Flemish Baroque artist Anthony van Dyck employed the use of Mexican cochineal to stunning effect in his 1621 portrait of Cardinal Agostino Pallavicini.
We are talking about the cochineal insect. Native to subtropical South America through the Southwest United States, the bug is the source of a much praised natural red dye called cochineal, or carmine.
It's female cochineals that produce carminic acid, a red-hued chemical excreted to ward off predators and from which the dye is produced. The word cochineal, incidentally, is derived from the Latin word coccinus meaning "scarlet-colored."
Its value was not lost on the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés, who arrived in Tenochtitlan (modern-day Mexico City), the seat of the Aztec empire, in November 1519.
By 1574, Spanish colonialists were exporting over 150,000 pounds (68,000 kg) of cochineal to Spain every year. Cochineal and related dyes found an insatiable market with European textile manufacturers, and the profits were vast. But it was the introduction of cochineal red to the European palette and the artists working at the beginning of the 17th century that truly showcased the power and potency of the pigment.
His curiosity sparked, the Spanish monarch requested a sample of this mysterious pigment. In 1523, a consignment was delivered to the royal court in Madrid. Suitably impressed, Charles requested Cortés begin exporting the dyestuff back to Europe.
Up until the introduction of Mexican cochineal to Europe, Polish cochineal was being used extensively to extract a particular brand of dye—St. John's Blood.
Armenian red had been used for centuries as a natural source of red dye. But the pigments produced by both the Armenian and Polish insects were nowhere near as potent as the Mexican derivative. It's for this reason that some of the greatest artists of the age were delighted by its potential.
Making cochineal dye had become a highly lucrative business in Spanish America. But the labor-intensive process was only made possible in the colonial period through the use of what amounted to slave labor.
Similarly, cochineal red emphasizes the deep fold in the garments worn by Saint Jerome, who sat for El Greco in 1609.
Cochineal red is used in other fields such as medicines, cosmetics, and histology for staining samples on microscope slides.
Cochineal's applications in the modern era include serving as a coloring ingredient of many foodstuffs, including candy and beverages (identified as Red E120).
How is a South American insect of miniscule proportions associated with some of the greatest European painters ever to have lived?
The answer lies in the discovery by Spanish conquistadors of a mysterious red dye that was known to the Mesoamerican people for centuries but went on to revolutionize the Western art world, with the likes of Caravaggio, Peter Paul Rubens, and Vincent van Gogh all wanting to paint with a pigment so vibrant and dazzling it impacted art history, from the Renaissance to Modernism. But how did this vivid colorant reach the European continent, and what else was it used for?
Click through the following gallery and find out how a bug painted Europe red.
Cortés and his conquistadors immediately recognized the riches of Mexico. But while plundering gold and silver was his prime objective, Cortés saw in cochineal an opportunity to swell the Spanish crown's coffers.
How a bug painted Europe red
The cochineal insect and its place in art history
LIFESTYLE Nature
How is a South American insect of miniscule proportions associated with some of the greatest European painters ever to have lived?
The answer lies in the discovery by Spanish conquistadors of a mysterious red dye that was known to the Mesoamerican people for centuries but went on to revolutionize the Western art world, with the likes of Caravaggio, Peter Paul Rubens, and Vincent van Gogh all wanting to paint with a pigment so vibrant and dazzling it impacted art history, from the Renaissance to Modernism. But how did this vivid colorant reach the European continent, and what else was it used for?
Click through the following gallery and find out how a bug painted Europe red.