How white is white?

A photographic note about perception, memory and the subtle color shifts that change images, spaces and works of art.

White is always a photographic theme for me – and a challenge at the same time.

Colors create moods. They can radiate warmth, appear sober, transfigure or explain. Sometimes they seem neutral. But even this neutrality cannot be taken for granted.

How white is white?

There are technical definitions, measured values and explanations. That’s not the main focus here. I am interested in the effect: what we see – or think we see.

The white on my screen

Take a look at the two surfaces shown below.

The first area uses the digital color code #ffffff – pure screen white.
The second area uses the color code #fcfcfc – an almost white tone, which also forms the background of this website.

The difference is deliberately minimal. Depending on the screen, brightness and ambient light, you may barely see it – or not at all.

This area is digitally defined as #ffffff.

This surface is defined as #fcfcfc – an almost neutral, slightly off-white.

And yet even such a small shift changes the effect of a pictorial space: hard or soft, cool or warm, technical or calm.

Black and white self-portrait by Manfred Hohlweg
First self-portrait with my Kodak Instamatic 133 on 126 black and white negative film. When you move over the picture, you can see how different shades of white change the effect.

White is therefore not only a technical value, but also always a perceptual situation.

White balance – a reminder

I had an early experience of this in the 1990s.

We traveled to France, to Normandy and Brittany. One day on the Côte de Granit Rose, we stood among pink rocks in the glistening sun. Even in the parking lot, the stones looked reddish.

Then we walked through Saint-Guirec to the beach.

Suddenly there was a pink glow over everything: rocks, light, beach, walls, even the air seemed to be touched by it. A magical pink world.

I photographed as much as my 35mm negative film would allow.

After the vacation I picked up the prints at Foto Porst. The pictures showed decent coastal views. But they didn’t show what I had seen.

What had happened?

At the time, I had photographed on color negative film. This means that a negative image is created in the film first. The finished paper image is only created later in the lab. The lab decides – often automatically or semi-automatically at the time – how the colors and brightness should look on the print.

What I had experienced as a pink light mood was obviously read as a color cast and corrected. My magical pink world turned into ordinary but fairly normal coastal views.

This would probably not have happened to me in this way with slide film. After development, slide film produces a positive image directly on transparent film. It can be projected or viewed against the light. Its color mood is essentially determined by the film used, its adjustment to daylight or artificial light, the exposure and the development process.

That would not have guaranteed the pink. But it would probably not have been corrected so naturally to a neutral paper image.

Connection to my current work

Since then, I have not only been interested in whether a color is “right”, but whether it reflects the perceived mood.

In my own photographs, this applies to fog, snow, areas of light, light backgrounds, skin tones, paper, walls and shadows. Even small shifts change the effect of a picture.

A cooler white can create distance.
A warmer white can suggest memory.
An almost neutral white can give a picture space without pushing itself into the foreground.

Connection to Magdalena Hohlweg

I become particularly attentive to photographs of works by the artist Magdalena Hohlweg.

In exhibition situations, it becomes particularly clear how differently white can appear. A white blazer, a wall, a passe-partout, watercolor paper or a silver-colored frame all reflect light differently. Just a few steps further on, the same room can appear warmer, yellower, softer or more objective.

For me, the picture in the article shows precisely this tension: different shades of white in the same room. The wall, clothing, passe-partout, paper and light do not appear the same shade of white – and this is precisely what creates the mood of the situation.

This is particularly important in the photographic reproduction of works of art. It’s not just about a beautiful picture, but about the effect of a work of art: the material, surface, white spaces, wall colors, paper, shadows and the atmosphere of an exhibition situation.

So it’s not about simply neutralizing white technically. It’s about preserving the effect of the materials, the space and the light in a comprehensible way.

A white that is too warm can transfigure.
A white that is too cool can make the work appear harsher.
An automatically corrected white can lose a mood that was decisive on location.

That’s why white is not a minor matter for me.
It’s part of the picture decision.

The eye is not a measuring device

Our perception also has a kind of white balance. It adapts to the surroundings. After a while, we begin to read the brightest or most neutral surfaces in a room as white – even if the light is objectively warmer, cooler or has a color cast.

After bluish light, for example in a swimming pool or under very cool lighting, an environment can suddenly appear warmer or redder. Not because it has changed, but because our perception has adapted.

This is what makes the assessment of color so difficult.

Our perception is not neutral. It is subjective, adaptable and dependent on light, surroundings and time.

Controlled light is therefore important for photographic assessment. In print and photo assessment, standardized viewing conditions are used for this, often D50 standard light. Not because it makes perception completely objective, but because it makes the conditions more comparable.

My conclusion

Maybe that’s why white is less of a color for me than a touchstone.

It shows how much photography stands between technology and perception – between what is measurable and what remains when we remember a light.