May 2008

 

What a lot I have to say, and just when pressing exhibiting commitments allow little time to write. It all goes back to December, when some neighbours asked me to look at family papers, and an archive connected to an old family business in Leeds. I have written an article about the research and events that followed, due for publication in The Journal of the Association of Weavers, Spinners and Dyers, in September 2008. I will reproduce it here once the publication date is passed.

One result of this initial period of research was that I became intrigued - one might with some justification say obsessed - by lichens and the lichen trade in the C19th. This primarily concerned orchil-producing lichens such as Umbilicaria postulata, Ochrolechia tartarea (used for cudbear), and the various Roccellae, which were used to dye silks and wool a variety of purples until eventually the new aniline dyes made their large-scale trade and import more or less obsolete.

The first time I knowingly heard the word "orchil" I was ear-wigging on a conversation between two fellow tutors at the GWSD Summer School in Falmouth, 2007. One of the tutors was Anna Champeney. I went to listen to her fascinating talk on traditional Felpa weaving during the Summer School. I was impressed by her passion, enthusiasm and commitment for studying the area of Galicia in which she has settled as weaver and dyer.

Yarn and a scarf by Anna Champeney using orchil dyes; there are some overdyes in the yarns

I felt I needed some direct experience of working with orchil- producing lichen to make more practical sense of the archive I have been investigating. Anna's experience, and her sympathy to the ecological responsibilities of working with lichens, convinced me that I needed a trip to Spain. I have just returned from studying with her.

The issues around the collection and use of lichen for dye purposes are controversial (see below) but it seems to me that sensible advice is offered in Karen Diadick Casselman's Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book of which Anna has a copy. I'd outline them in brief, but unfortunately I don't own a copy myself and can't get hold of one as it appears out of print.

Above: a variety of silks and yarns dyed with orchil. Weaving is by Anna Champeney, as are yarns on larger cones

Looking for "windfall" Evernia prunastri in chestnut forests around Cristosende

 

 

Above: Basketful of about 250g Umbilicaria postulata. This was gathered where the lichen was extremely plentiful using the general guidelines outlined in Karen Diadick Casselman's book Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book

Above: Fermentation vat ready to use. The dark colour develops over several weeks

 

Anna checking the temperature in the vat. Orchil is relatively economical and we managed to dye a large quantity of yarn and silk with this one vat - with an exhaust vat remaining.

 

The sample above was raised from the vat in ten minute and 18" sections to see if there was an evident colour build-up, and to check on the wisdom of times advised in countless books including the subject or orchil dyeing.

 

 

Dyeing with lichens

 

Gathering lichens for dyeing is a controversial subject. Lichens are notoriously slow-growing and may never re-establish themselves in an overpicked area. My studies into the archive of the Leeds orchil trade in the C 19th have outlined the terrible damage done to countless species all over the world. One collection site after another (Scotland, Scandinavia, The Canary Islands, Cape Verde etc) was plunderered of all available lichen, exploiting both resources and gatherers, and the trade moved on to yet another area. This sequence of events has an all-too familiar ring today.


Studying the C 19th archive has made me curious about certain requests and remarks regarding the orchil dye made by customers when ordering, and also on related invoices, lab notes and letters. It has been essential for me to understand the issues facing the dye makers and dyers in my period of study and to make a small fermentation vat of a lichen used in Leeds at the time. I travelled to Spain, where there are remnants of a traditional use of orchil, and where one relevant orchil-producing lichen is still relatively plentiful. It has been an invaluable experience and has thrown light on a number of the issues that had puzzled me, as well as posing yet more questions to be answered.


In Karen Diadeck Casselman's book Lichen Dyes: The New Source Book, Ms Casselman outlines a Code of Ethics for identification and use of lichen for modern craft-dyeing purposes and discusses what she describes as "Salvage Botany". This is the code that I followed when studying in Spain.

 

 

 

 

There are, however, those who strongly believe that lichens are now so scarce and vulnerable that they should no longer be gathered for dyeing at all.

I am an exhibiting textile artist and I have become very involved in the creative use of natural dyes and natural dye extracts in a quest for a more sustainable textile environment.

This area of my work is distinct from my research into orchil which, though it can be used as a dye, could never be grown commercially.

I won’t be selling any of the orchil-dyed work made during my dye researches, won’t be using orchil dye as a part of my future commercial creative work, and am not intending to teach orchil-making. This is a personal decision and not intended as a comment on those who do any of those things.


My interest in making the orchil dye has been academic. It relates to the period of study covered by the archive and the need to understand certain aspects of manufacture and use. I do hope to teach others what I have learned about lichen identification, trade, manufacture and use in the C 19th.

Cochineal and indigo-stained hands in severe need of handcream, it seems

 

 

Middle - end of May

There has been more than some urgency to produce a collection of natural-dyed work for the Contemporary Craft Fair at Bovey Tracey. Normally, the way I work with synthetic dyes is to produce one piece after another in sequence - and thus to have some idea of what I am achieving in terms of quantity and quality. Knowing that a technique works for me (although there may be disasters along the way) means I can assess how long it is going to take me to produce a run of creatively satisfying, saleable pieces of work.

Not so with the natural dye collection. I had decided some time back that painting the dyes using wax as a resist, then steaming them to fix, produces dubious results with colour and fastness. More predictable is the rise in my blood pressure when I then attempt to remove the wax, hoping it doesn't depart with half the cochineal.

Just to digress a moment, I have found that Wax-Out, a product available through Fibrecrafts, does work well with de-waxing the acid dyed pieces and I now use this in preference to a dry-clean. I don't take the temperature as high as they suggest, I only leave the work in a few minutes before gently wringing out the emulsified goo, and I only use a fraction of the soda ash. I have found that 4.5 litres cleans out 10 scarves, which works out at about 40p per scarf. This is certainly cheaper than my dry-clean used to be and also saves about 50 miles worth of petrol.

The new work with natural dyes has to be shown on a stand along with acid dyed pieces and this is a problem as the brightness of acid dyes on silk is hard to compete with.

Wax-Out in use on a steamed, waxed scarf. The liquid is still quite clean in this image. It does become frighteningly dirty but as long as there is sufficient soda ash in the mix the loose dye does not re-attach. You need to assess how long to continue before the mixture is just too full of loose dye to clean more work

Dipping a cochineal-dyed scarf into the indigo vat

So I am dividing the stand in the hope that each side will hold its visual ground. For this reason I also wanted the work to look completely different, so that it couldn't be compared in any obvious way.

I worked on several (maybe 30) pieces at once over a period of three weeks, building up sequences of dips and overdyes; folding and clamping some scarves and tying others. It is a completely new way of working and very stressful.There is no sense of achievement as at each dip because the previous stage can be adversely altered or ruined by the next one and any lack of care can mean a splash or drip in the wrong place. Each stage of dipping needs to be completely dry before starting the next; indigo offers its own little prickly problems and also the need for at least 8 immersions per area.

I became very excited by a superbly-marked clamped scarf which I had dyed using eye-droppers. I photographed it, admired it, patted myself on the back and steamed it. That was the last I saw of the lovely marks. They steamed away or rinsed out, leaving an out-of focus fuzz of what had been there before. Maybe I will go back to this technique when I have a little more time, to see whether there is a way of preserving the work.

 

 

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