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There used to be a paint color called "Mummy Brown" that was made out ground up Egyptian mummies. It was a favorite color of the Pre-Raphaelites, but when people found out what it was made of some of the buried the pain they had and stopped using it.

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In the annals of art history, few stories are as peculiar and macabre as that of "Mummy Brown," a paint color that once held a cherished place on the palettes of 19th-century artists. This unique pigment, favored by the Pre-Raphaelites and other artists of the time, was made from an unlikely and unsettling source: the ground-up remains of Egyptian mummies.

The origins of Mummy Brown date back to the 16th century when European traders began importing mummies from Egypt. These ancient remains, often thousands of years old, were not only prized for their historical and archaeological value but also for their perceived medicinal properties. However, it was the art world that found a particularly unusual use for them. By grinding the mummified remains into a fine powder, a rich brown pigment was produced, offering a unique hue that was both earthy and slightly translucent. This made it particularly appealing for rendering flesh tones and shadows in paintings.

The Pre-Raphaelites, a group of English painters, poets, and critics founded in 1848, were particularly enamored with Mummy Brown. Known for their vivid colors and attention to detail, these artists found the pigment's warm, subtle tones ideal for their work. However, the allure of Mummy Brown was not limited to its aesthetic qualities. There was a certain mystique and exoticism associated with using a material that had once been part of an ancient civilization, adding an element of historical romance to their creations.

Despite its popularity, the use of Mummy Brown was not without controversy. As the 19th century progressed, awareness grew about the true nature of the pigment's origins. The idea of using human remains, particularly those of ancient Egyptians, began to stir moral and ethical concerns. Artists and the public alike were increasingly uncomfortable with the notion of desecrating the dead for the sake of art.

The turning point came when artists and collectors became more informed about the pigment's composition. Some, horrified by the revelation, chose to bury their remaining supplies of Mummy Brown, effectively laying to rest the very material that had once been a part of another human being. This act of reburial was both a symbolic gesture of respect and a practical step to distance themselves from the ethical implications of using such a pigment.

By the early 20th century, the production of Mummy Brown had largely ceased, as synthetic and more ethically sourced pigments became available. Today, the story of Mummy Brown serves as a fascinating footnote in art history, a reminder of the lengths to which artists have gone in their quest for beauty, and the evolving standards of ethics and respect for cultural heritage. While the pigment itself has faded into obscurity, its legacy endures as a testament to the complex interplay between art, history, and morality.