Raven and Sparrow

Back to work

Vacation is over and I am back at work. My holiday was way too short, I think, and it will be a year before I get another. Sigh. I am also back at work on my tablecloths. The brown one came through the wax removal process with its dark value intact, and really nice veining and color variation in the pattern. I am done dyeing it and will move on to hemming. I'm wondering if embroidered edges would add anything, or just gild the lily.

The other two aren't so good. All of their initial color was lost, and even the indigo blue faded out. Both of them have some smeary places that look like someone wiped their nose there or something. I have put them both back in mordant and plan to over-dye them in immersion dye baths. All "white" will be lost, but perhaps the heat of the bath will minimize the smears. They are now embarked on paths that will take them far from my original ideas for them. I don't know how they will look when they are finished. 

Vacation continued

Working with Nia and Ismoyo of ISNIA last weekend made me think more about the value of collaboration. They work together on almost all of their pieces, and have done whole bodies of work with other wax-resist traditions in Australia, and Africa. The tradition of batik in Java emphasizes collaboration as well. One of the mental images I have formed from this class is of an art form that arises from the earth itself through the bodies and minds of the artists, drawing on their personal experiences as well as the collective experience represented by their cultural heritage to manifest as cloth. The cloth so made enriches daily life or heightens the symbolism of ceremonial rites. It pulls from sources natural, physical, intellectual, social and personal, and then contributes to communal meaning.  

Common meanings are hard to balance with personal expression though. Nia and Ismoyo were criticized at home for deviating from traditional motifs, and ignored in the larger art world for working in an ethnically limited "craft". It seems to me though, that they have taken what were purely local meanings and enlarged the circle of people to whom they speak. Maybe not. 

More personally, this class made me think about whether it is good for me to work alone. I have always thought of myself as someone who didn't (or shouldn't) need the input or approval of others, but time has shown this to be a lie. Needing approval still seems negative, but I have been so aware lately of the value of interacting with other people. I was surprised to find that working at Home Depot is actually energizing when I am helping a customer, and attending a workshop like this one has magnified my energy ten-fold. I remember how exciting and stimulating it was at school working with so many people who were so creative. Also, I think anything I may have to say as a maker of things has to do with connection between people, with cloth as a marker and place-holder for that connection. So maybe I need more connection and collaboration myself. This blog is about connection and I want to say how much I appreciate the comments and interest you all have shown. Thank you.

What I did on my summer vacation

About four weeks ago I was paging through one of my fiber arts magazines when I saw pictures of what I considered really beautiful cloth. It was, according to the accompanying blurb, the product of a husband and wife team using traditional Javanese batik methods in a contemporary way. Wow. I thought it would be great to meet them and see their work. Then, I spied an announcement of a workshop they were giving on Bainbridge Island, during my vacation! I signed up immediately, and last weekend attended the workshop.

The class was intense and exhausting. Two days was not enough, and I am still processing what I learned there. Nia, an American from Colorado, and her husband Ismoyo, from Indonesia, shared the teaching. They use traditional tools to apply wax, but in non-traditional ways. Their wax is a combination of highly refined parafin and pine resin which stands up to the repeated dips into dyebath after dyebath of napthol dyes. I have never used those dyes before, and was impressed with the color they produce in cold water. Unlike Procion dyes, they make strong colors without being garish. You dip the cloth into one of several napthol solutions and then in one of several solutions of diazo salts. The particular combination you choose determines what color you get. It is possible to put two samples in the same tub and get yellow on one and blue on the other because they had been soaked in two different napthols. It is like the old way of natural dyeing, in which the color you can get with any given plant material changes depending on what mordant you use. Unfortunately, the napthols and the diazo salts are very poisonous, so I won't be switching over.

We learned to apply wax with tjanting tools, which are like spouts on a handle, and with tjaps, which are elaborate metal stamps. Ismoyo has a very strong accent and he kept talking about shopping. I just didn't get it until I realized he meant tjapping. I use a tjanting here at home and figured I would have no trouble with it, but ha ha. Holding the cloth in one hand and scooping wax into the tjanting, getting it to the cloth and making a smooth mark with the other is very hard. I made many of the dreaded blots and have renewed respect for the Indonesians who have used tjantings so well for so long. Tjaps seem easier, but it is harder to regulate the temperature of the wax with them. I stamped away with pleasure, but when I dyed one cloth none of the marks I made came through because the tool/wax combo was too cool.

The most important technical information I came away with concerned wax removal. Silica salt is the magic key. Putting two cups of silica salt in the hot (not boiling) kettle of water and dunking the cloth vigorously removed the wax easily. Whew. I have already sent away for a gallon of it off the internet, trying not to mind that the shipping costs more than the jug. If it works for me as well as it worked at the class it will be worth it.

However, the most important lessons I received weren't technical. Nia and Ismoyo made a point of starting work with centering exercises, saying that creativity is not just a product of the brain, but the channeling of energies from without and within. Apparently many of the traditional motifs of batik are concerned with the meeting of the tangible with the intangible, and are thus infused with spiritual meaning, so making cloth has always been a meditative occupation. Indonesians call great cloth makers empu, which means both artist and wise person.

Double, double, toil and trouble

Fire burn and cauldron bubble....

Saint Mike has commented many times on my resemblance to the witches of McBeth as I stand over my steaming dye kettles. (I choose to relate these remarks to the situation and not to my personal appearance, although that pesky chin wart has been getting bigger lately......). I've been spending a lot of time in the steam as I try to boil out the wax in my tablecloths. It is very stubborn and hard work getting it out. I think I have too much beeswax in my wax mixture. I used to have lots more parafin, but the smell was getting to me so I began adding only beeswax, which smells of honey but is very clingy. I understand that there are some good soy waxes available now, so maybe I should switch. I expect to have more information on this after this weekend because I am attending a workshop given by ISNIA, husband/wife contemporary batik artists. I was admiring their work in the latest edition of Surface Design magazine, when I noticed that they were teaching on Bainbridge Island during my vacation!!! I signed up immediately and have high hopes for valuable input on my waxing technique, among other things. In the meantime I have wax all over my kettle, my buckets, my stirring spoons, and still, my tablecloths.

As I wait for pots to boil, I've been working on a new pattern.  Actually, I've been trying to finish one for quite a while, but it hasn't gone well. I am trying to consciously inject some meaning into my design, but it is coming out all heavy-handed and over-wrought, much like my conversation when I really care about what I'm talking about. Finally, after many revisions, drawing and re-drawing, I threw it away and searched for something simpler. There, in the grass, were these funny weeds that are ubiquitous in the Northwest at this time of year. When we were kids we liked to grind the seeds off into our hands and mix them with mud for our pretend baking. I've always been amused by their straight leafless stalks, topped by their upwardly mobile flowers. Anyway, a new and very simple pattern has emerged. I think I will try it small before I put in on a full-sized tablecloth.

Liar, liar

Did I say I'd post my indigo results tomorrow? What a liar!  Here's what I got: no purple, greenish, but not chartreuse, darker brown, but no black. I even made another pot and re-dipped the brown one again, but still no black. Sigh. Still, I'm not entirely unhappy with the colors that did come out, so onward.