Sept 15 2019, Full Moon in Pisces.
Oaxaca, Mexico.
Salasaca, Ecuador, 2000
My journey with natural dyes began serendipitously in 2000, during a backpacking adventure in Ecuador. In the quaint Andean village of Salasaca, I met Alonso Pilla, a local weaver who introduced me to a world where colors were born from the earth – his mother's garden. He shared with me the ancient Bolivian weaving technique his family had carried from the time of the Incas. Alonso took me to his mother's mountainside house, where she reared sheep for wool, and she showed me various plants and herbs she used to create vibrant dyes. that time, I was focused on my burgeoning tech career. But the seed of fascination with natural dyes was sown, waiting for the right moment to sprout.
Fairfax, California, 2008
In 2008, while waiting for my U.S. passport in Fairfax, California, I once again encountered natural pigments, this time through my French roommate, a muralist trained in traditional fresco painting from old French churches. She adapted these traditional techniques for contemporary use, and with her inspiration, I picked up a paintbrush for the first time after 15 years and created a Sri Yantra, using her collection of natural pigments and spices like turmeric. This experience reignited my interest, inspiring a desire to experiment further with natural pigments in line with my growing commitment to living lightly on earth that aligned with my growing commitment to a sustainable life.
When my passport came through, I left for Europe for work, leaving my pigments in storage in San Francisco. I thought I'd return soon, but life had other plans; it would be seven years before I revisited them.
Sacred Valley, Peru, 2016
In 2016, while living in Peru's Sacred Valley, the allure of natural pigments called to me again. I was attending a summer program at the Escuela de Bellas Artes in Cusco. Each Sunday, I saw Andean women (affectionately called Mamitas) selling natural pigments in the market. I longed to learn their dye-making process and even imagined staying the mountains with them. That opportunity eluded me, on an inspired Sunday, I bought pigments of nearly every color they had in the market and began to incorporate these with acrylics in my art, finding their textures, transparency, and hues mesmerizing.
I was curious about the materials used and the technique they used to create these. Upon research, I learnt that the striking red dye came from crushed insects—a method I found difficult to embrace. Nevertheless, I resolved to integrate more natural pigments into my art, even if I couldn’t learn the entire process myself.
Oaxaca, 2019
Life has a way of redirecting us. In July 2019, an unexpected dental issue led me to Mexico instead of visiting a friend in BC, Canada. After treatment in San Miguel de Allende, I headed to Oaxaca, drawn by its vibrant indigenous arts culture and the influence of Francisco Toledo, a revered Mexican artist. There I stumbled upon the Centro de las Artes San Agustín Etla, where, to my surprise, a natural dye workshop was about to begin. I applied with a statement of purpose and was thrilled to be accepted. The course, led by a Swiss textile artist with Spanish skills similar to mine, turned out to be rewarding. We worked with soya beans, rosemary, bay leaves, turmeric, brazil wood, and other materials. We prepared dyes through cutting, soaking, cooking, and drying.
After the workshop, my kitchen became my laboratory. Growing up, the kitchen was my haven, where my mother taught me to cook, pick stones from rice, churn buttermilk, and grind spices. Spending time in the kitchen was a way to bond with her, and it’s a place where I feel at home.
Now, my kitchen took on an expanded role. It’s a place where I not only cook, and make home remedies, and also, where I make dyes. I often have food on one burner and a dye pot on the other. The natural, earthy look of these colors, and the subtle shifts in colors as they dry, have deepened my love for these pigments.
Next Stop?
I yearn to explore cochineal and indigo to experiment with shades of reds, greens, blues, and yellows. It took me 19 years before I could get my hands wet with natural pigments — how many more before the next chapter unfolds?
From my kitchen with love.
Comments