Who loves the darkest shade of all?

C’mon, I’m a handsome fellow, yes? Forget the gloomy plumage, the sharp beak, the scaly feet and my all-seeing eye. Take no notice of how my image is used so often to creep you out in gothic horror movies.

Yes, I am crow. Famed for my gorgeousness. Darn near worshipped, in fact. Partly because of my truly awesome blackness.

What is it about black — the color that’s so accommodating of every shade of opinion? It can be seen as sinister or sensual. Drab or luxurious. Shabby or powerful. Submissive or authoritative. Gloomy or triumphant.

It’s the color that stands out for not standing out — and the color that can’t be ignored.

Black has such a long, rich history. It was one of just a handful of hues — along with ochre, whitish and red tones — first used by humans to create art. It’s on cave walls from Africa to Europe to Australia, the legacy of artists who daubed pigments and paints made from earth and plant juices on rock up to 40,000 years ago.

It was also a staple color for New Zealand’s Maori people in pre-European times — mixed into inks for moko (traditional tattoos) and natural dyes, called pure, for fiber.

And yes, black is a color, though for a long time many regarded it as a fudged-up blend of all the others.

Blame Leonardo da Vinci, who was so adamant black had no place in the artist’s color palette that his view held sway for 500 years. It was a radical move when in 1946 a Paris art gallery staged an exhibition with huge posters that declared, “Yes, Black is a Color. “

For most of us, the darkest shade has few shades of meaning. But in some cultures what matters is its degree of shine. Traditionally, Germans had two words for black. One was drab and matte and, says historian Michele Pastoureau, author of Black: The History of a Color, was seen as “always disturbing, often deathly”. Its name was swart.

Then there was the other gorgeous kind of black, so shiny it was luminous. Its inspiration came from bird wings. Yes, that very bird above. Think of how the crow’s black feathers have a shine so rich that they shimmer in sunlight.

Ancient Germans looked at that flashy gleam and saw it as something grand and wonderful. They called it blaek. The cleverness of crows made them truly awesome in the eyes of early Germanic tribes — “divine, warlike and omniscient,” according to Pastoureau.

No wonder their armies painted images of the crow with outspread wings on sword scabbards and helmets.

Even further north, ancient Scandinavian warriors were similarly crow-crazy. They apparently used a spine-chilling version of the crow’s call as their war cry. And the boats they sailed in had the blackest bird of all painted on their sails and their prows.

One of last year’s top art-house movies was Mr Turner, starring Timothy Spall. He played genius English artist JMW Turner. The 19th century painter got into all sorts of trouble as he tried to change the art world — and his use of black gave critics plenty to grumble about.

Derided for the sooty look he gave to sails on a ship in one of his dramatic maritime oils, he grumbled, “If I could find anything blacker than black, I’d use it.”

It’s all a long way from our addiction to black as a fashion must-have. Coco Chanel started the craze way back in 1926 when she invented the Little Black Dress — or LBD — prompting American Vogue to predict it would become the uniform ‘for all women of taste’. We hardly ever saw Audrey Hepburn in anything else.

Tasteful or not, it found its way into millions of dresses and there can be few women without a haul of black items in their wardrobes — not just dresses but also coats, jackets, skirts, pants, cardigans, underwear, bags and boots.

Women have an idea that black clothing has a slimming effect. It can do, but its downside is the distinct possibility of dowdiness.

Of course one person’s drab is another’s elegant. Veteran New York Times fashion photographer Bill Cunningham is always out in the street capturing city life. Last December he shot hordes of New Yorkers in dark, chic clothing.

He raved on his video blog: ‘‘It’s the black and white and black and grey that really seemed to have a statement and the women looked terrific. Maybe because it’s a combination where they can’t make mistakes. You can put anything together, you see.’

Black and white has long been the staple palette for New Zealand sporting uniforms, and black is famously the color of sports gear for its world-beating rugby team, called (what else) the All Blacks. It’s a look that hasn’t always met with approval.

A New Zealand journalist in England during the 1948 Olympics watched his countrymen march past King George VI in black uniforms trimmed with white, and reported that they looked like ‘scarecrows in magpie’s colours’.

Even then the black sporting uniform was historic. Many think it goes back to the ‘Invincibles’, the All Black touring rugby team of 1924, But even earlier, in 1920, New Zealand’s first female Olympian, swimmer Violet Walrond, wore a black swimming costume at the Antwerp Olympics.

That story comes from the handsome book, Black: The History of Black in Fashion, Society and Culture in New Zealand, curated by Doris de Pont and published by Penguin in 2012.

New Zealand is currently mulling over a possible change to its national flag, with two referendums upcoming in which citizens can vote on whether to keep the current flag (which has Britain’s Union jack in one corner and red stars on a blue ground — a design very similar to Australia’s flag).

Its sports stars often wave a black flag with a white fern depicting a native plant with leaves whose undersides gleam with a silvery sheen.

But should the national flag be black too? Prime Minister John Key used to support the midnight flag adorned with a silver fern, but by late last year wasn’t so keen. By then, images of black-clad ISIS fighters waving their own black and white flag were all over the news.

The trouble with black fabric is that it’s so connected with all things grim. The ISIS flag is just the latest in a long line of horror motifs that include the Jolly Roger, the pirate flag that once struck terror into the hears of merchantmen.

Then there’s the Grim Reaper, and — in former times — the black cap donned by judges when they handed down death sentences.

If we are black-hearted we are traitors. If we dabble in the black market we are lawbreakers. If we’re blacklisted we’re ostracized. If we’re blackmailed we’re threatened with disgrace, if we’re black sheep we already are a disgrace.

The very mention of black-hued items can bring up notions of shock and despair. The search for black boxes (which actually are orange) accompanies every air disaster. Black-swan events are dreaded in political and business circles because they’re unforeseen.

But make the color black sleek, shiny and beautiful and we admire it to bits. Is there anything sexier than a black sports car? Or lacy underwear? Or as cool as James Bond’s well-cut black tuxedo?

Does anything reek of power and money more effectively than a black government limousine (such as President Obama’s car, nick-named The Beast)?

And is there anything as striking in the airline world as Air New Zealand’s new black livery? When a friend of mine posted a slick, black Air NZ jet on Facebook before stepping on board, someone commented, “So cool that our airline has such gangsta-looking planes’.

• This article is adapted from a version first published by the New Zealand Herald. nzherald.co.nz
• Large-billed crow image at top by Wera Rodsawang, via 123rf.com