Colour Therapy through history

From the moment humans first lifted their eyes to the sun, we have known that light is not neutral. It carries warmth, pattern, and — most mysteriously — colour. Across cultures and centuries, people have turned to colour not only for beauty, but for healing. What we now call “colour therapy” is in fact an ancient practice, continually rediscovered and reimagined in each age.

The earliest texts already point to the therapeutic power of light. In the 6th century BCE, the Ayurvedic physician Charaka recommended sunlight as medicine for a variety of diseases. Around the same time in Greece, Orpheus — founder of one of the earliest mystery schools — taught that colour and vibration could awaken both body and spirit. His students, including Pythagoras and Plato, carried those teachings forward into Western philosophy.

Egyptian culture perhaps held the most elaborate understanding of colour. The god Thoth was said to have gifted humanity with the art of chromotherapy. Temples were designed with chambers painted in specific hues; minerals, crystals, and dyes were used as medicine; and even clothing colours were prescribed for restoring balance. To the Egyptians, colour was not superficial — it was the very essence of being. They used the word iwen to mean not just “colour,” but also appearance, nature, character, and soul.

In Greece, colour was woven into daily healing. Patients might be wrapped in certain garments, rubbed with coloured salves, or bathed in light filtered through fabrics and stones. Though they did not yet understand biology as we do now, they trusted colour’s ability to restore harmony. Ptolemy observed in 200 CE that the play of sun rays into the eyes produced euphoria. By 125 CE, the philosopher Apuleius was experimenting with flickering light to reveal epileptic tendencies — one of the earliest recognitions of light’s neurological impact.

Even as the Western world entered periods of superstition and constraint, colour remained present in healing practices. Islamic scholars carried forward Greek knowledge, while European alchemists experimented with minerals, crystals, and pigments. By the 13th century, light itself was being studied as both physical and mystical — a duality that persists to this day.

In the late 18th century, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe challenged Isaac Newton’s purely mathematical theory of light. For Goethe, colour could not be reduced to numbers; it was a living phenomenon, inseparable from perception. “Search nothing beyond the phenomena,” he wrote. “They themselves are the theory.”

Goethe’s radical idea was that darkness is not merely the absence of light, but its polar partner. Colour arises, he believed, from the dynamic between light and shadow. This insight echoes what many spiritual traditions already intuited: that colour is relational, not static. His experiments — simple, sensory, experiential — laid the groundwork for a lineage of thinkers who saw colour not only as physics, but as psychology.

In the early 20th century, Rudolf Steiner extended this inquiry. He linked colour to form, shape, and sound, proposing that different combinations could either nourish or harm living organisms. In schools inspired by his philosophy, classrooms were painted in colours aligned to the developmental stages of children — a recognition that environment shapes consciousness.

Steiner’s work was later continued by Theo Gimbel in Britain, who helped found the modern field of colour therapy. Around the same time, Swiss psychologist Max Lüscher developed the Lüscher Colour Test, arguing that colour preference revealed states of mind and even glandular balance.

One of the boldest voices of the 19th century was Dr. Edwin Babbitt. In his book The Principles of Light and Colour(1878), he proposed that every organ could be influenced through coloured light applied to the skin. He even built devices — cabinets, funnels, and coloured filters — to administer treatments, and developed elixirs by irradiating water through coloured glass. Though his methods were sometimes eccentric, his central idea — that coloured light can alter physiology — has been confirmed again and again by later research.

In 1933, Dinshah Ghadiali published the Spectro-Chrome Encyclopedia, a monumental work that codified much of what we now call chromotherapy. His system mapped organs and conditions to specific colours, laying the foundation for much of contemporary practice. Around the same time, Dr. Harry Riley Spitler developed Syntonics in the United States, using coloured light directed into the eyes to shift mood and physiology.

By the mid-20th century, colour therapy was no longer just the domain of mystics and inventors. Laboratory studies began to confirm what ancient cultures already knew.

  • In the 1940s, Russian scientist S. V. Krakov showed that red light stimulates the sympathetic nervous system (arousal, action) while blue light stimulates the parasympathetic (rest, calm).
  • In 1958, Robert Gerard demonstrated that red raised blood pressure and heightened anxiety, while blue lowered blood pressure and induced tranquility.
  • Dr. Harry Wohlfarth found that yellow increased pulse and respiration rates, while blue and green slowed them.
  • Photobiologist John Ott discovered that plants grew differently under red, green, or blue filters — evidence that light frequencies shape biology itself.

Perhaps most famously, in the 1950s doctors discovered that exposing newborns with jaundice to sunlight dramatically reduced the need for risky blood transfusions. By the 1960s, blue light had become the standard treatment — a practice still used worldwide today.

Since then, full-spectrum light has been used for seasonal depression (SAD), sleep disorders, and jet lag, while blue light has been tested for arthritis, tissue repair, and even cancer treatments. The field continues to expand, bridging ancient intuition with modern biophysics.

Looking back across history, one truth is clear: colour has always been recognised as medicine. Whether through Egyptian temples, Greek garments, Goethe’s experiments, or hospital lamps, humanity has continually rediscovered that light is not passive. It is active, intelligent, and transformative.

What was once faith or intuition has been repeatedly confirmed by science: colour influences our physiology, emotions, and perception.

My own work, Light Literacy™, stands in this lineage but also offers something new. It is not just about applying colour to treat symptoms, but about learning to read the language of light itself.

In Light Literacy™, colour is both mirror and compass. It reflects our inner state, while also guiding us back to coherence. A flood of red may reveal fear or suppressed strength. A wash of green may show where balance is returning. The colours don’t just act on us — they converse with us. They invite us into awareness, offering feedback and resonance.

This is why I call it literacy. Just as reading words allows us to enter new worlds of meaning, reading colour allows us to enter new layers of ourselves. The ancients built temples for this. Scientists built laboratories. My work builds a bridge — a way to bring colour therapy into daily life, into healing spaces, into group practice, and into the collective field of Mirror Stewardship.

Colour therapy is not history. It is living. And in every session, every kaleidoscopic projection, every Light Literacy™ practice, we are continuing the great human experiment of listening to light.