For centuries, the most luminous ultramarine came from lapis lazuli mined in remote mountains (and moved across continents by hand, animal, ship, and at great risk).
Before it ever touched a brush, it had already lived several lives: as stone, as treasure, as trade, as an ordeal. By the time the pigment reached a painter’s studio, it arrived with a built in mythology of rarity and great value.
Where it comes from and why it mattered
Natural ultramarine is made by grinding lapis lazuli and laboriously separating the blue particles from duller minerals. It was hard work and low yield, meaning you could throw a lot of money at it and still not get much.
That scarcity became part of its aura. It was limited, temperamental, and priced like a jewel.
The business of a sacred blue
In many workshops, ultramarine was treated like a luxury ingredient. Patrons sometimes specified it in contracts, especially when they wanted a painting to announce devotion and status in the same breath.
A painter would often make decisions like:
Use ultramarine only where it counts
Substitute cheaper blues elsewhere
Reserve it for the most symbolically loaded surfaces
In other words: color as strategy.
The symbolism
Ultramarine’s cultural meaning didn’t come only from religion, but religion supercharged it. In Western European painting, it became linked to the sacred, especially through Marian blue*.
The Virgin with Angels (La Vierge aux anges), also known as The Song of the Angels, 1881, by artist William-Adolphe BouguereauThe Virgin in Prayer, Giovanni Battista Salva da Sassoferrato 1650
Ultramarine evokes emotion
It’s a hue that carries the hush and mystery of distance: deep ocean, a starry night, or the far side of a mountain range. Because it’s so saturated, it doesn’t just sit on the surface; it seems to gather light and hold it.
The Blue Silk Dress, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (model Jane Morris)
The beauty of ultramarine is that it refuses to be merely decorative. It has depth without gloom, richness without shouting. It can read as sky, sea, velvet, or benediction, sometimes all at once, holding both distance and devotion in the same breath. Even now, when the pigment is no longer rare, the color still behaves like something precious: it gathers our attention, steadies our gaze, and makes a little room in the mind for wonder.
Ultramarine doesn’t just color a surface; it dignifies it, quietly.
*More on Marian Blue on this Wikipedia page, along with links to a variety of shades, complete with swatches.
Color harmony sounds like a polite term, as if it should wear a waistcoat and speak softly in a museum.
But in practice, it’s closer to a well orchestrated conspiracy: colors making private agreements in the corner of a painting, deciding who gets to glow, who must recede, and who will quietly ruin the mood.
To keep it simple: color harmony is the way colors relate to each other so the image feels unified, even when the scene is tense, eerie, or emotionally unsteady.
Today we’ll use two Rossetti paintings as our case studies:
The First Madness of Ophelia a bright, jewel toned stage where color plays court politics.
How They Met Themselves a dark forest where color whispers, doubles back, and does something unsettling behind your shoulder.
The Four Harmonies You’ll Actually Use
Analogous harmony (neighbors on the color wheel)
Colors that sit beside each other: like green/blue/teal, or red/orange/gold. Effect: calm, cohesive, “all from the same world.”
Complementary harmony (opposites)
Colors across the wheel: like red/green or blue/orange. Effect: drama, vibration, attention. It’s the visual equivalent of someone saying, Excuse me? in a drawing room.
A limited palette with shifts in light/dark rather than hue. Effect: atmosphere, unity, mood, like fog in paint form.
The First Madness of Ophelia: Harmony as Social Theater
In The First Madness of Ophelia, Rossetti gives you a scene that feels decorative on first glance (gold, blue, red, green) until you notice how carefully the colors are arranged, like people placed at a dinner table to cause maximum tension without anyone “making a scene.”
The First Madness of Ophelia; Dante Gabriel Rossetti
What you’re seeing, harmonically
A blend of complementary and triadic harmony:
Blue (Ophelia’s dress) acts as the emotional anchor; cool, steady, and a bit removed.
Gold/orange (the background) presses forward, warming and enclosing her. It’s rich, theatrical, almost airless.
Red accents (in clothing and details) spike the whole arrangement with urgency.
Greens (notably in surrounding garments) act as a mediator. Earthy, tempering, but also quietly ominous.
Why it works
Rossetti is balancing hot vs. cool and stillness vs. flare:
Blue vs. gold is a classic complement (cool/warm opposition).
The red notes keep your eye moving like gossip traveling across a room.
The gold ground unifies everything, like varnish on a secret.
This painting is what happens when Blue tries to remain composed at a party, Gold keeps leaning too close, and Red keeps interrupting with scandalous remarks. Meanwhile Green stands by the wall pretending to be helpful while taking notes.
Takeaway you can use
If you want a composition to feel coherent but tense, try this:
Choose one dominant color (Ophelia blue)
Surround it with its warm opposite (gold/orange)
Add tiny red “alarms” to direct attention
How They Met Themselves: Harmony as a Trap
This Rossetti painting is a very different creature: a forest scene, dim and enclosed, where figures double and the atmosphere feels like it’s holding its breath.
How They Met Themselves, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1864) Two lovers walk through a forest and encounter their own doppelgangers.
What you’re seeing, harmonically
Tonal harmony with a controlled red/green complement:
The whole painting lives in a restricted world of deep greens, browns, and black.
That limitation creates tonal unity, everything belongs to the same air, the same hour, the same moral weather.
Then Rossetti introduces red in small but strategic places (trim, details), and suddenly the image has a pulse.
Why it works
When you limit hue, value (light/dark) and temperature become the drama:
The forest is a single harmonic “key”, like a piece of music that refuses to modulate.
The figures feel caught inside it, because the palette doesn’t offer an escape route.
Red becomes the signal flare: not enough to brighten, just enough to warn.
Perhaps this forest is not merely a forest. It is a well trained predator wearing green. The reds are its teeth, kept politely out of sight until you’re close enough to notice.
Takeaway you can use
If you want mood (and mild dread) in your own palette:
Keep most colors in one family (greens/browns)
Push contrast using light/dark values
Add a small complementary accent (a controlled red) to make the image feel “alive”
A Simple Way to Spot Harmony in Any Painting
What color dominates? (the “boss”)
What color opposes it? (the “argument”)
What color connects everything? (the “glue”, often golds, browns, grays, or repeated neutrals)
In Ophelia, the glue is that golden atmosphere. In How They Met Themselves, the glue is the dark green/brown tonal world.
Try This: Two Quick Color-Harmony Exercises
Exercise A (Ophelia style)
Pick:
1 dominant cool (blue)
1 enclosing warm (gold/orange)
1 small alarm accent (red)
Use it in a mood board, a room palette, a graphic… anything. Keep red small.
Exercise B (Forest style)
Pick:
3 related darks (greens/browns/near-black)
1 tiny opposite accent (red)
Make the mood work by shifting light/dark, not adding more colors.
Rossetti understood that harmony isn’t the same as happiness. Sometimes harmony is how a painting locks a feeling in place, beauty arranged so perfectly it becomes a kind of spell.
And if you’re thinking, That’s dramatic for a color wheel, well… that’s exactly the point.
Helping young hearts explore beauty, emotion, and empathy through art
When children first encounter John Everett Millais’s Ophelia, they often react with wonder. The flowers, the colors, the soft light filtering through leaves… it looks like a scene from a fairy tale. But parents know the painting carries difficult themes beneath its beauty.
And yet, that’s what makes Ophelia such a powerful introduction to talking with kids about art, feelings, and stories.
You don’t have to hide Ophelia away until they’re older. You just need to approach it gently.
This is a guide to help you navigate those conversations with honesty, softness, and the kind of emotional wisdom Victorian art invites.
Start With What Kids Naturally Notice
Before you explain anything, let your child look.
Ask:
“What’s the first thing you notice?”
“What colors do you see?”
“How do you think she feels?”
“Where do you think she is?”
Kids often point out:
the flowers
the dress
the river
the expression
Let their curiosity lead the way.
Focus on the Art Before the Tragedy
You don’t need to begin with Shakespeare’s darker plot.
Talk about:
the beauty of nature
how Millais painted outdoors
how carefully he studied each flower
how Victorian artists used symbolism
how the painting looks serene at first glance
This sets the emotional tone as peaceful, not frightening.
Elizabeth Siddal as Ophelia
When They Ask About the Story, Keep It Age Appropriate
Kids almost always ask:
“Why is she in the water?”
Here are gentle, truthful ways to answer based on age.
Ages 4–6 (very simple):
“Ophelia is a character from a story. She’s floating in a river and daydreaming. The artist painted her in a very magical, peaceful moment.”
Ages 7–10 (soft honesty):
“Ophelia is feeling very sad in her story. The artist painted the moment she goes into the water. The painting doesn’t show everything; it’s more like a beautiful picture of a difficult feeling.”
Ages 11–13 (more detail, still tender):
“Ophelia has a hard time in her story, and this painting shows the moment her feelings become too heavy. Some people see it as dreamy, and others see it as sad. Art helps us talk about feelings we don’t always have words for.”
You don’t need to give the entire Shakespearean plot unless your child asks.
Talk About Feelings, Not Just History
Shakespeare’s Hamlet is about grief, confusion, loss, and love, all emotions kids understand more deeply than we sometimes assume.
Ask:
“What do you think Ophelia might be feeling?”
“Have you ever had a day that felt heavy?”
“What do the flowers tell us about her mood?”
“Does the picture feel calm or sad to you?”
Children are surprisingly empathetic viewers. They read faces, colors, and moods instinctively.
Let this be an entry point to deeper emotional conversations.
Discuss the Symbolism in a Kid Friendly Way
Victorian artists loved symbolic flowers. Kids love discovering hidden meanings.
Some ways to phrase it gently:
“This flower means friendship.”
“This one means love.”
“This one means remembering someone.”
“Artists used flowers as a kind of secret code.”
Suddenly, the painting becomes a treasure hunt.
Use Ophelia to Encourage Creative Expression
Art about emotion can inspire art about emotion.
Try:
Drawing Ophelia with a different feeling
Drawing the river full of imaginary flowers
Writing a tiny poem about floating in water
Creating an “Ophelia color palette”
Making your own symbolic flower bouquet
These activities turn a difficult story into a creative outlet.
Reassure Without Dismissing
If your child feels sad seeing the painting, say:
“It’s okay to feel sad. This painting makes many people feel that way.”
“Some art shows happy moments, some show difficult ones.”
“Ophelia’s story helps us understand empathy.”
The goal is not to remove the emotion, it’s to help them hold it safely.
Study of Elizabeth Siddal as Ophelia, Sir John Everett Millais
Emphasize That Art Helps Us Talk About Hard Things
This is the real gift of Ophelia.
It lets children:
explore feelings
ask questions
understand empathy
discover that beauty and sadness can coexist
Victorian art, especially Pre-Raphaelite art, gives kids a safe visual space for emotional literacy.
Talking to your children about Ophelia isn’t about exposing them to tragedy. It’s about teaching them to look closely, ask questions, trust their feelings, and see art as a companion through life.
Ophelia’s story isn’t just about sorrow. It’s about noticing beauty, understanding emotion, and remembering that every person, real or fictional, has an inner world worth exploring.
Exploring big feelings, brave questions, and timeless storytelling with young hearts
Younger children
Gentle, Story Only Introductions At this age, children can absolutely enjoy Hamlet inspired stories, but not the original plot in full. Look for: * Picture books that simplify the plot (or make your own!) * Versions that remove violence and death * Focus on themes like curiosity, choices, friendship, and bravery * Beautiful illustrations (which help them engage with Shakespeare’s world) Abridged Shakespeare Kids in this range can handle simplified versions of the story with gentle honesty about: * betrayal * difficult emotions * big choices * moral struggles But they still don’t need the full tragedy. Best formats: Mary Lamb & Charles Lamb adaptations Bruce Coville’s illustrated Shakespeare books Stage plays for young audiences
Tweens and Teens
The full plot, with support Middle schoolers can understand: * the ghost’s purpose * Hamlet’s indecision * family conflict * Ophelia’s emotional struggle (framed compassionately) * the idea of revenge vs. morality This age is ideal for: watching a youth-friendly production reading an abridged script discussing themes like loyalty, grief, pressure, and choices You can also begin connecting Ophelia to art, including Pre-Raphaelite interpretations. This age group loves symbolic imagery.The full play. Teens can dive into: * the original text * politics and power * mental health themes * Ophelia’s arc * existential philosophy * the tragic ending * the complexities of language At this age, discussions become richer: What does it mean to be listened to? How does society shape Ophelia’s choices? Why does Hamlet hesitate? What is “madness” in a world that demands impossible roles? This is also when Pre-Raphaelite Ophelia becomes most meaningful. Teens immediately grasp how art and literature overlap.
Introducing Hamlet
At first glance, Hamlet may seem like the last Shakespeare play you’d bring to a child. It’s a complicated saga wrapped in ghosts, grief, and betrayal, anchored by one of the most iconic tragedies ever written. And yet, beneath all that drama lies something deeply human, something children grasp with startling ease.
Hamlet is a story about feelings. It’s about families. It tumbles through confusion, love, fear, and courage. And it asks how any of us make sense of a world that has shifted beneath our feet.
Children already grapple with big emotions and big questions. They just do it in smaller settings.
You don’t have to shield them from Hamlet, however, I recommend you introduce it with care.
Here’s how to guide them gently into this extraordinary story.
Begin With the Story, Not the Language
Before diving into the play, first share Hamlet as a story.
For example: Disney’s The Lion King is loosely based on Hamlet.
The Lion King carries the echo of Hamlet, a tale of a stolen throne, a grieving son, and a ghostly father whose memory refuses to fade. Scar stands in for Claudius, the treacherous uncle who reshapes the world through violence; Simba steps into the role of the reluctant heir, driven into exile before he can understand the weight of what’s been taken from him. Even the comic relief, Timon and Pumbaa, play a lighthearted parallel to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, companions who shift the story’s tone without altering its core.
What Disney offers, of course, is a gentler retelling: one where the prince returns, restores the world to balance, and walks into the sunrise rather than tragedy. Missing are the darker threads (Ophelia’s unraveling, the spirals of grief and madness) but the heartbeat of Shakespeare’s story remains, softened for younger eyes yet still rooted in themes of responsibility, legacy, and the courage it takes to come home.
But, back to Hamlet specifically. You can frame it in child friendly terms:
“Hamlet is a young prince who misses his dad very much. When he learns something strange and upsetting, he doesn’t know what to do. The story is about the choices he makes, the feelings he feels, and how he tries to understand what’s right.”
By doing so, you set the emotional foundation without introducing the darker complexities too quickly.
If your child is curious, tell them:
it’s a mystery,
a ghost story,
a family story,
a play full of questions.
Kenneth Branagh as Hamlet
Introduce Hamlet as a Character Before a Tragedy
Children relate to characters first. Let them meet Hamlet through:
his friendship with Horatio,
his love for his father,
his confusion when things don’t make sense,
his desire to do the right thing.
Ask:
“What do you think Hamlet wants most?”
“Do you think he’s lonely?”
“Who do you trust in this story?”
Kids answer with disarming honesty.
They see Hamlet as a young person trying to navigate feelings bigger than himself.
Use the Ghost Scene to Talk About Fear & Mystery
Children often fixate on the ghost, not with terror, but fascination.
You can gently frame it like this:
“Hamlet sees the ghost of his father. In stories, ghosts often appear to share an important message or help a character understand something difficult.”
This opens the door to talk about:
fear
intuition
mysterious moments in literature
how stories use supernatural elements to explore emotions
For young kids, you can soften the scene: “Hamlet has a dreamlike moment where he thinks he sees his father.”
Let them interpret it imaginatively.
Talk About the Big Feelings
Hamlet experiences:
sadness
anger
confusion
frustration
loneliness
love
fear
bravery
This makes Hamlet an incredible emotional literacy tool.
Ask:
“Why do you think Hamlet is sad?”
“What would you do if you felt confused like that?”
“Do you think he has someone to talk to?”
“Is it hard for him to know what’s right?”
“Have you ever felt torn between two choices?”
Children are capable of remarkable emotional insight when given space.
Ophelia, John William Waterhouse
Discuss Ophelia With Care
Ophelia’s story is delicate. Her sadness is deep. Her arc requires gentleness.
With younger kids:
“Ophelia is a young woman who feels very overwhelmed. She doesn’t have anyone who listens to her. The story shows how important it is to share our feelings with people who care.”
With older kids:
“Ophelia is dealing with a lot of pressure. Shakespeare shows how sadness can grow when people don’t feel supported or heard.”
Focus on:
empathy
emotional support
listening
compassion
Not the tragedy itself.
Make It Playful! Let Them Act It Out
Shakespeare was written for performance, not quiet reading.
Children learn best through play:
Act out Hamlet and Horatio meeting the ghost.
Let them pretend to be Ophelia sharing a secret with a friend.
Have a “to be or not to be” moment using silly voices.
Use puppets or toys to recreate scenes.
Stage a mini play with toy crowns, capes, or paper swords.
When kids act out Shakespeare, they often understand it instinctively.
Use Questions, Not Explanations
Kids don’t need analysis. They need curiosity.
Great questions include:
“Why do you think Hamlet hesitates?”
“Do you trust the ghost?”
“Is Claudius a good leader?”
“What makes a family feel safe?”
“Why do you think Hamlet talks to skulls?”
“Who do you think is the most loyal character?”
Let them guide the discussion.
Their answers will surprise you.
Keep the Ending Gentle
For young children, a simplified ending is kindest:
“A lot of characters make choices that lead to sad endings. Shakespeare wanted to show how important honesty, communication, and kindness are. And how secrets and revenge can cause harm.”
Older kids (10+) can handle a clearer explanation:
“Tragedies help us understand the importance of empathy, integrity, and thinking before we act.”
Focus on meaning, not mechanics.
Closing the Curtain
Introducing your kids to Hamlet isn’t about giving them a tragic story. It’s about giving them a framework for:
empathy
courage
emotional depth
moral complexity
honesty
reflection
and the beautiful messiness of being human
Shakespeare didn’t write Hamlet for scholars. He wrote him for anyone who knows what it feels like to be overwhelmed, unsure, hopeful, afraid, or brave.
Children know these feelings intimately. You might be surprised how naturally they understand him.
