Rethinking Flesh Tone: A Historical Overview of Artistic Bias
Throughout history, the concept of “flesh tone” in art has carried with it more than just pigment. It has served as a subtle yet powerful indicator of cultural dominance, aesthetic values, and social hierarchies. The term has long been embedded in the classical Western art tradition, particularly during the rise of portraiture in Europe, where skin color became not only a technical challenge but a reflection of who was deemed worthy of representation.
One of the earliest formal references to the term "flesh tone" appears in Roger de Piles’ 17th-century treatise, "Dialogue sur le Coloris." In this influential document, he discussed the specific mixtures of oil pigments used to replicate human skin in portrait painting. These teachings were deeply tied to the cultural and social realities of the time, when the subjects of such artworks were predominantly white Europeans from the upper classes. Their skin tones became the de facto standard for what “flesh” looked like, influencing generations of painters and, eventually, manufacturers of art supplies.
As oil painting grew in popularity among the elite, so did a particular palette of pigments meant to emulate these preferred complexions. The most common combinations included Yellow Ochre, Cadmium Red, and Titanium White mixtures that produced a warm, pinkish hue closely aligned with fair skin. This standard became so established that it transcended the canvas, morphing into a commercial norm. With the industrialization of paint production in the 19th and 20th centuries, companies began offering pre-mixed shades labeled as "Flesh Tint" or "Flesh Tone." These paints offered convenience to artists but also unwittingly reinforced a narrow vision of human identity.
This standardization had a ripple effect across art education and practice. Aspiring artists were trained to use these limited flesh tones, often without questioning their origins or implications. The term "flesh tone" became so commonplace that it was rarely interrogated, normalized to the point of invisibility. For decades, the art materials industry did little to challenge this status quo, even as the world outside the studio grew increasingly diverse.
The Cultural Implications of Skin Color in Art Materials
The labeling of a single paint shade as "flesh" was not merely a matter of semantics had cultural consequences that extended far beyond the canvas. As awareness of systemic bias grew across different sectors of society, the art world began to face uncomfortable questions. Who defines what flesh looks like? Whose bodies are considered default? And what messages are being communicated, consciously or not, through the tools artists are given?
For many artists of color, these questions were not theoretical. They faced practical limitations in the studio, often having to create their blends to capture the richness and variety of non-white skin tones. The lack of ready-made options for brown, black, or olive complexions was more than an inconvenience; it was a reminder of their marginalization in an industry shaped by Eurocentric ideals. This invisibility underscores a broader presumption that white skin is the default and everything else is “other.”
Moreover, the terminology surrounding these paint colors sent implicit messages about inclusion and identity. Referring to one specific tone as "flesh" implied a normative body, reinforcing old hierarchies and shaping perceptions in subtle but significant ways. These designations not only excluded diverse identities from artistic representation but also from the very language of creation.
In recent years, the conversation has shifted, thanks to broader movements around equity, representation, and cultural sensitivity. As society increasingly recognizes how language shapes our understanding of the world, artists and educators have begun to push back against exclusionary terms. Words carry powerthey define, include, and exclude. And in the world of art, where expression is paramount, the language of materials matters just as much as the images they help to produce.
Today’s artists are leading this cultural reexamination. They are advocating for broader, more inclusive palettes and calling out outdated terminologies that no longer reflect the richness of human experience. Many are also sharing their techniques for mixing a wide variety of skin tones, emphasizing the importance of learning how to see and render all bodies with equal care and accuracy.
Art educators, too, are revisiting their curriculum. Some are removing references to "flesh tone" entirely, replacing it with more descriptive terms like "light peach," "warm brown," or "deep umber." These changes may seem small, but they represent a meaningful shift in how future generations of artists will approach the human form. Rather than being taught to replicate a single ideal, students are encouraged to explore a spectrum of possibilities, understanding that all skin tones deserve thoughtful representation.
This broader shift is also influencing how children first encounter color and identity in their earliest creative experiences. When a child picks up a crayon labeled “flesh” and sees only a pale pink hue, what message does that send about who is included in the narrative of humanity? Representation begins not only in the galleries but at the foundational level of artistic expression. By expanding the language and materials used in art, we are also expanding empathy, awareness, and respect for difference. In a world increasingly conscious of diversity, rethinking these small but significant details becomes an act of justice as much as one of artistry.
Toward a More Inclusive Palette: Industry, Innovation, and the Future of Flesh Tones
As the conversation around inclusivity in art gains momentum, the materials industry is beginning to respond. Paint manufacturers are expanding their offerings, introducing sets designed to reflect the full range of human skin. These new products are not only technically versatile but also symbolically importantthey validate the idea that diversity in complexion is worthy of dedicated resources.
Some brands have collaborated with artists from diverse backgrounds to develop these ranges, ensuring authenticity in both hue and naming. Rather than offering a singular "flesh" tone, these sets might include multiple options with names inspired by geographical, cultural, or descriptive associations. This approach not only enhances the usability of the paints but also opens up a more nuanced and respectful dialogue about identity.
However, change is slow and often met with resistance. Traditionalists in the art world may see this shift as unnecessary or overly political. But framing the conversation around respect, accuracy, and representation can help bridge that gap. It's not about policing artistic expression's about providing artists with the tools they need to represent humanity in all its complexity.
Artists have always been at the forefront of cultural change, using their work to challenge norms and expand collective understanding. By demanding more inclusive materials, they are continuing this tradition of pushing boundaries and sparking necessary conversations. Their efforts remind us that representation begins long before a brush touches the canvas. It starts with the choices made in the art store, the names printed on tubes, and the palettes taught in classrooms.
Looking forward, the industry has an opportunity and a responsibility to keep evolving. As new generations of artists emerge, they bring with them broader perspectives and a hunger for tools that reflect their realities. By embracing inclusivity not just as a trend but as a core value, manufacturers, educators, and institutions can help create a more equitable and expressive artistic future.
The story of flesh tone in art is far from over. It is a living narrative that mirrors our cultural consciousness. From its origins in the aristocratic portrait halls of Europe to the diverse studios of today, it has tracked the changing definitions of beauty, identity, and belonging. Reframing what "flesh tone" means is not simply a correction of language, is a reclamation of space in the creative process. It acknowledges the full spectrum of human experience and affirms that every body is worthy of being seen, rendered, and remembered.
The Ripple Effect of Social Change: How the Art Supply Industry is Rethinking Color Naming
In recent years, a sweeping wave of global social justice and inclusivity movements has sparked introspection across countless industries. One of the quieter yet profound areas transforming is the world of art materials. Historically, the naming of paint, pencil, and pastel colors has reflected Eurocentric biases, often unconsciously marginalizing artists and subjects of diverse racial and cultural backgrounds. Now, manufacturers are beginning to reckon with those legacies, revisiting how they label the very tools that artists use to express identity, emotion, and perspective.
This shift did not happen overnight. Long-accepted terms like “Flesh Tint” or “Caucasian” on color labels are increasingly seen not just as outdated but as exclusionary. What once passed as a standard has now come under scrutiny for promoting a narrow view of human complexion. Recognizing the need for change, several art supply companies have embarked on journeys to revise, rename, and rethink how they reflect diversity through their products.
At the forefront of this evolution is ARA Acrylics, which responded decisively by replacing the generic and exclusionary term “Flesh Tint” with the more chromatically descriptive “Naples Yellow Light Extra,” while the darker “Flesh Tint Deep” became “Pink Medium.” These adjustments, though subtle at first glance, signify a meaningful pivot. They are not merely changes in nomenclature but signal a deeper philosophical shift, one that acknowledges the richness and variety of human skin tones without centering a singular cultural reference as the default.
Similarly, AV Vallejo took a transparent and forthright approach. By publicly acknowledging the limitations and racial implications of naming a color “Caucasian Flesh,” the brand demonstrated that genuine accountability and humility can coexist with commercial adaptation. Their revised labels not only reflect greater nuance but also set an example for others on how to reconcile legacy with progress.
This collective reexamination is not limited to newer or more nimble brands. Long-established companies like Daler Rowney have also recognized the need to evolve. Although they moved away from “Flesh Pink” to “Portrait Pink” years ago, they recently opted for a more universal term, “Peach.” Their revised language marks an intention to build a more inclusive visual vocabulary that honors a broader demographic.
Reinventing the Palette: How Manufacturers Are Embracing Inclusive Descriptors
This transformation is not just about eliminating offensive terms; it is about reimagining what artistic accessibility truly means. Derwent, for instance, went a step further than simply renaming a few items. The company conducted a comprehensive audit across its entire product range. This proactive approach allowed them to make informed, ongoing adjustments that align with the evolving conversation around cultural sensitivity and respect. Their willingness to take stock of their catalogue reveals a commitment to long-term change rather than performative responses.
Faber-Castell, another heritage brand with a global presence, has tackled the issue with practicality and depth. What were once labeled “Dark Flesh,” “Medium Flesh,” and “Light Flesh” now carry color-based descriptors such as “Salmon,” “Coral,” and “Beige Red.” These labels are more representative of hue rather than race or identity, allowing artists to interpret and apply colors without inadvertently reinforcing narrow stereotypes. The change also signals a shift toward viewing colors through a more universal, less identity-bound lens.
Gamblin Color, known for its artist-grade oil paints, took a reflective stance regarding its own historical choices. The color once known as “Caucasian Flesh Tone” had become normalized among its user base, yet the brand recognized its problematic nature and chose to rename it “Naples Orange.” This update preserved the hue’s functional relevance while detaching it from a racialized narrative. Moreover, Gamblin also addressed colors like “Indian Red” and “Indian Yellow,” modifying them to “India Red” and “India Yellow.” The revised titles aim to maintain the historical reference to pigment origin while softening the connotations that could be misread in contemporary contexts.
These examples underscore how even small changes in labeling can carry enormous cultural significance. A label might seem inconsequential, but for artists who rely on these materials to represent their subjects truthfully and respectfully, inclusive naming can affirm their identities and enhance creative authenticity.
Holbein and Royal Talens have also shown a sincere dedication to equity in their product lines. Rather than issue one-off changes, both companies committed to ongoing revisions aligned with broader efforts of inclusion. Their policies reflect a deep-rooted understanding that inclusive language in the arts must be dynamic and evolving, not a one-time correction but a continuous engagement with their audience and the global community.
Meanwhile, some brands chose more subtle methods of transition. Molotow and Montana, for example, implemented quieter, almost unannounced updates to their product names. Color titles like “Skin Pastel” became “Powder Pastel,” and “Babyskin” was renamed “Pale Pink.” These less conspicuous changes were executed in a way that retained brand consistency while gently steering their nomenclature in a more culturally conscious direction. Though understated, such choices reflect a delicate balance between honoring existing brand recognition and acknowledging the importance of progressive change.
A New Era in Artistic Expression: Symbolic Shifts with Real Impact
What unites these varied responses is a growing recognition that the language of color carries weight. Words shape perception. By renaming paints and pencils, these companies are not just rebranding products, they are challenging the biases embedded within creative traditions. The changes are rooted in a collective aspiration: to make the act of creation a more inclusive, respectful, and representative endeavor.
Notably, other key players in the global art supply market have begun their revisions. Brands like Schmincke, Old Holland, and Sennelier are gradually phasing out outdated color titles while simultaneously introducing new tones that speak to the complexity of human skin across continents. These transitions signal that the movement is far from a trend; it is a paradigm shift that is slowly being institutionalized across the industry.
Manufacturers such as Staedtler and Tombow are also reviewing and revising the terminology used in their colored pencil and marker lines. By reevaluating descriptors that might alienate or misrepresent, these brands are contributing to a broader, more thoughtful cultural shift. Their changes resonate beyond packaging; they speak directly to classrooms, art studios, and professional spaces where people of all backgrounds seek tools that honor their experiences.
What emerges from this evolving landscape is a powerful realization: art should not be bound by outdated definitions of who or what can be represented. Each renamed shade reflects a subtle yet significant reparation, a move away from assumptions and toward genuine inclusivity. These updates empower artists to work with materials that reflect the real world, in all its diversity and depth.
Moreover, this inclusive approach enriches creative possibilities. By expanding color palettes and refining descriptors, companies allow for more accurate and expressive representation of global identities. The change benefits not only artists of color but anyone who seeks a richer, more authentic means of portraying the human experience.
This movement also holds educational implications. For aspiring artists, particularly those in formative environments like schools and art programs, inclusive color labeling can foster a sense of belonging. When students see a spectrum of skin tones acknowledged and respected in their materials, it reinforces that their own stories and identities are valid and valued.
In essence, the transformation in the art materials sector is not just a marketing adjustment, it’s a cultural reckoning. It reveals how entrenched biases can exist in the most subtle aspects of our creative practices and how addressing them, even incrementally, can foster empathy, respect, and artistic growth. From color names to corporate philosophies, the industry is learning that inclusivity is not just a moral imperative; it is a foundation for innovation, connection, and lasting relevance.
As these companies continue to refine and redefine their color lexicons, they contribute to a broader narrative of change. They are reshaping the tools of creativity to better mirror the world’s diversity, and in doing so, they reaffirm the role of art as a universal language, one that must include, rather than exclude, the full spectrum of human experience.
Reframing the Palette: The Politics of Flesh and Color in Artistic Tools
In the realm of visual art, color does more than decorate defines, symbolizes, and tells stories. When artists reach for a shade to portray skin, they engage not just with pigment, but with cultural memory and identity. Historically, the term "flesh tone" in art supplies has served as a subtle but powerful gatekeeper, suggesting a universal standard of skin that reflects a narrow worldview. This terminology, long unchallenged, mirrored broader societal defaults that centered whiteness as normative and everything else as divergent.
As art has evolved to reflect a global chorus of identities, the language and tools used in its creation must evolve too. A single "flesh" hue cannot encompass the layered, complex chromatics of human skin tones, and yet, for decades, this label existed as though it could. For many artists, especially those from historically marginalized communities, this label was more than inadequate was erasure. It implied that the depiction of their skin required deviation from an unspoken standard.
When a paint tube bears the name "Flesh Tint," it carries with it an ideological weight. It subtly enforces the idea of a default humanity, one in which whiteness is centered, and anything else becomes the 'other.' Such naming conventions impose limitations not only on technical representation but on psychological freedom. They nudge the hand of the artist away from authentic depictions and toward compromise, dilution, or avoidance.
This dynamic also reflects in how art is taught. For generations, students were introduced to color theory and portraiture through palettes that assumed a default skin tone. This shaped their early understanding of which bodies were worthy of representation and which hues were considered foundational. The cycle reinforced that what wasn’t named was often not taught, and what wasn’t taught remained invisible.
A New Chromatic Language: Naming, Nuance, and Representation
In recent years, the creative community and forward-thinking manufacturers have begun addressing this entrenched bias. By retiring reductive labels and introducing an expanded array of descriptive, inclusive, and evocative color names, a new chapter has opened in the aesthetics of representation. Instead of anchoring skin tones to a singular label like "Flesh," brands now use terms like Rose Blush, Mocha Mist, Caramel Glow, Terra Clay, or Deep Mahogany. These names are not only more descriptive; they acknowledge the richness and variance of global skin tones without placing one above another.
This shift is about more than inclusive marketing reflects a larger cultural reckoning. Artists are reclaiming the power to define their palettes on their terms. By accessing a range of tones that match real-world diversity, they can tell truer, fuller stories in their work. The language of color, once a tool of subtle marginalization, is being reengineered into one of affirmation and truth.
Portraiture, perhaps more than any other genre, benefits from this transformation. To capture the humanity of a subject, an artist must render the delicate interplay of light and color on skin. Warm siennas mimic sunlit browns; olive undertones bring life to Mediterranean complexions; pale lavenders and cool pinks add dimension to lighter skin. A true-to-life portrait emerges only when the artist is given both the permission and the tools to see people as they are, not as a default.
What’s equally significant is how these changes shape the perception of color in younger generations. Art education has a vital role to play in dismantling outdated norms. When children and teens are introduced to a world of tones that reflect themselves and their peers, they internalize a broader, more accepting visual vocabulary. They understand instinctively that flesh is not a color, but a conceptone that must be understood through diversity, not uniformity.
The names artists use for colors are never neutral. They are imbued with cultural significance, memory, and intent. Choosing to name a color Blush Clay rather than Flesh reorients the entire creative act. It signals to the artist and the viewer that all skin tones matter, and that the act of painting someone is also an act of seeing them fully.
The Future of Representation: Authenticity, Access, and Artistic Agency
This growing awareness around inclusive palettes is reshaping not only the art world but also how society views representation more broadly. With artists calling for transparency and intentionality in how materials are named and marketed, we are witnessing a democratization of depiction. This is not simply about visual accuracy, it is about human dignity.
In the 21st century, art is no longer content to remain aesthetically pleasing without being ethically conscious. The materials used by artists are as much a part of the message as the images they create. A portrait painted with outdated "flesh" tones today reads differently than it once did. Viewers are more informed, and expectations are higher. Diversity is not an optional theme is an intrinsic element of contemporary relevance.
Moreover, the act of choosing a shade is now one of subtle activism. Artists making deliberate choices to use broader palettes are contributing to a cultural correction. They are refusing to flatten the vibrancy of their subjects into preassigned categories. They are painting with intention and depth, using pigments as a form of resistance and celebration.
The role of manufacturers, therefore, is not just to supply colors but to support narratives. When companies release portrait sets with names like Almond Brown, Sandy Umber, Rich Walnut, and Golden Peach, they are not simply selling more paintthey are acknowledging the multiplicity of humanity. And when those sets are free of coded language or assumptions, they empower artists to see beyond conventions and create without compromise.
The shift toward chromatic pluralism isn’t a trend; is a renaissance. In embracing a spectrum of tones, the art world reclaims its role as a mirror to society. Every hue becomes a declaration that no face is peripheral, no body unworthy of depiction. The tools we use matter, not just for their function, but for the messages they carry. A brush dipped in inclusive color tells a story not only of aesthetic choice but of cultural progression.
What was once a quiet oversight naming of a pain, has become a site of transformation. This evolution in artistic materials reminds us that even the most seemingly mundane elements carry the power to include or exclude, to uplift or ignore. By changing the default, artists are changing the narrative. And in doing so, they are ensuring that the future of art is as diverse, rich, and truthful as the world it seeks to portray.
As new generations of artists take the stage, armed with palettes that reflect their identities and experiences, the possibilities expand. No longer constrained by reductive language, they explore new dimensions of storytelling. They bring to life portraits that speak not only through likeness but through tone, texture, and truth. Each brushstroke becomes a reclamation, each color a voice. And in that, art fulfills its highest purposenot only to reflect reality but to reveal it, in all its beautiful variety.
A New Era in Color Naming: Where Art and Identity Converge
The movement to reimagine how we name skin and flesh tones in art materials reflects a broader cultural evolution that extends far beyond the confines of color charts and packaging labels. At its heart, this shift signals an ongoing commitment to equity, representation, and self-expression. It challenges long-held assumptions and asks a fundamental question: Who decides what is considered “neutral,” “natural,” or “universal” in art?
For decades, terms like “flesh,” “nude,” or “skin” in the art materials industry were applied with little thought to the global and racial diversity of the artists and subjects using them. These descriptors often defaulted to a narrow, Eurocentric standard that did not account for the full spectrum of human skin tones. As the world becomes more interconnected and socially conscious, the need to reevaluate these labels has become not only apparent but urgent.
What’s emerging is a transformative effort to acknowledge these oversights and move toward a more inclusive and nuanced language of color. Leading paint and pencil manufacturers, inspired in part by public conversations and pressure from artists, are beginning to reexamine the way their products are named and marketed. Companies like Molotow and Schmincke have publicly recognized the challenge of changing terminology that has long been baked into their supply chains. Still, their willingness to adapt illustrates a powerful intent: to create a color language that mirrors the real world more faithfully.
This evolution is not about erasing history; it’s about deepening it. Recognizing the historical implications of color nameswhether they relate to colonial trade routes, medieval portraiture, or indigenous materialsadds layers of meaning rather than stripping them away. Artists are not just passive recipients of these shifts; they are active participants and often the catalysts for change. Their demand for authenticity, variety, and representation is guiding a new kind of dialogue between creators and manufacturers.
The heart of this change lies in redefining what it means for a color to be “universal.” Instead of one-size-fits-all designations, the new approach values multiplicity and specificity. It seeks to equip artists with tools that allow for accurate, respectful, and expressive depictions of diverse human experiences. In doing so, it affirms the idea that languageespecially the language of colorholds power. When that language evolves to include everyone, it becomes a force for both artistic and cultural liberation.
Bridging Production and Participation: How the Art Industry Can Stay Inclusive
Renaming a color might sound like a simple fix, but for manufacturers, the process is far more intricate. Transitioning a product’s identity involves not only reformulating its branding across physical packaging but also coordinating changes across inventory systems, retailer catalogs, websites, and international distribution platforms. These logistical challenges often span years and require seamless communication between departments, suppliers, and consumers.
Brands that are truly committed to inclusive practices must go beyond surface-level marketing and invest in sustainable strategies that embed diversity into their core operations. This includes adopting naming conventions that are rooted in research, cultural sensitivity, and artist input. The legacy of older color names can exert a powerful pull, many are familiar to longtime users and part of an established workflow. Companies are beginning to realize that maintaining the status quo can come at the cost of alienating new and diverse audiences.
To truly reflect the communities they serve, art supply companies must build feedback loops that center artists’ voices. Direct engagement through artist residencies, focus groups, online surveys, and social media listening can yield profound insights into what creators want and need from their materials. These collaborative efforts foster trust and transparency while giving rise to innovations that would be difficult to achieve in isolation.
Moreover, this effort must include ongoing education. Renaming a color isn't just about avoiding outdated terminology; it’s an opportunity to deepen the user’s understanding of art history, pigment origins, and cultural context. For instance, when a brand includes a story about the historical background of a huesuch as the journey of India Yellow from its roots in 18th-century India, or the influence of Renaissance portrait tones in Roman Szmal’s formulations, it transforms a simple label into a portal of discovery.
Education also plays a key role in consumer empowerment. When artists understand the context behind a color, they are more likely to use it intentionally and thoughtfully. This also paves the way for emerging artists to see themselves reflected in the tools they use, breaking down barriers of entry and allowing for broader participation in the arts.
The logistics of change are undoubtedly complex, but they are not insurmountable. What’s needed is a clear roadmap that includes artist consultation, historical accuracy, production feasibility, and public communication. When these elements come together, the result is not just a renamed paint tubeit’s a cultural statement about what kind of creative future we want to build.
Digital Tools and the Path to Lasting Change
In today’s increasingly digital art world, the conversation around color naming and inclusion must extend beyond physical tubes and pans. Artists are discovering and selecting products online more than ever before, and the way these items are categorized, tagged, and recommended can profoundly shape their creative process. The power of search algorithms and e-commerce metadata means that outdated or exclusionary terms can continue to perpetuate invisibility if the packaging has changed.
This opens up a new frontier: digital equity in art supply databases and catalogs. For example, filtering skin tones solely by "light" or "dark" does not reflect the complex interplay of undertones, translucency, and warmth that define human skin. By integrating more inclusive tagging systems, manufacturers and retailers can ensure that every artist finds the right hue to match their vision. This requires investment in UX design, metadata strategy, and user testing, but the result is a digital experience that supports creative freedom and accuracy.
Digital platforms also offer an excellent space for storytelling. Unlike the limited real estate on a label, product pages and online catalogs can include detailed information about a pigment’s origin, cultural significance, and suggested applications. Through video content, blog features, artist spotlights, and interactive swatches, companies can communicate both the technical and emotional resonance of their color choices. This not only enhances SEO performance by enriching keyword relevance but also builds stronger, more informed customer relationships.
In the long term, the success of renaming efforts will not be judged merely by the number of colors that transform. Rather, it will be measured by how well these changes support genuine artistic expression. When a student opens their first set of paints and finds tones that reflect their identity, when a seasoned portrait artist can render their subject’s features with integrity and nuance, and when digital platforms lead users to colors that feel authentic and empowering, we will know that progress is taking root.
This ongoing shift represents a quiet revolution in the art world. It challenges assumptions, opens up new creative possibilities, and aligns the tools of art-making with the values of inclusion and respect. At its core, this movement tells us that representation does not begin at the brushstroke. It begins at the source with the names, the pigments, and the intention behind them. And as that foundation becomes more inclusive, the resulting art becomes more powerful, more honest, and more reflective of the world we all share.
