Sept 15 2019, Full Moon in Pisces.
Oaxaca, Mexico.
Ecuador
Tracing back my journey, I realize my first encounter with natural dyes was in 2000 during a backpacking trip to Ecuador. In a small Andean village named Salasaca, I met a local weaver, Alonso Pilla, who introduced me to the world of natural pigments made from plants in his mother’s garden. He demonstrated a unique weaving technique, originating from Bolivia, where he and his family had been brought by the Incas. Alonso took me to his mother's mountainside house, where she reared sheep for wool, and he showed me various plants and herbs she used to create vibrant dyes. At the time, my life was focused on a tech career, so while the natural dyes fascinated me, I made a mental note to revisit this world later.
California
My next encounter with natural pigments came in 2008 while I was waiting for my U.S. passport to be finalized in Fairfax, California. My roommate was a French muralist who had trained in traditional fresco painting from old French churches. Using her technique, she adapted natural pigments for modern media. Intrigued by her work, I picked up a paintbrush for the first time in 15 years and created a Sri Yantra using her 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 the earth.
When my passport finally arrived, I left for a work contract in Europe, leaving my pigments behind in storage in San Francisco. I thought I’d return soon to pick up where I’d left off, but it would be seven years before I saw them again, and only briefly.
Peru
In 2016, while living in Peru's Sacred Valley, I felt the urge to revisit natural pigments. I was attending a summer program at the Escuela de Bellas Artes in Cusco, and every Sunday, I saw Andean women (affectionately called Mamitas) selling natural dyes for weaving rugs, tapestries, and ponchos. I longed to learn their dye-making process and even imagined staying in the mountains with them. Although that opportunity didn’t materialize, an inspired Sunday arrived in 2018 when I bought nearly every color they had in the market. I began incorporating these pigments with acrylics in my paintings, finding their textures, transparency, and hues mesmerizing.
I was curious about their materials and techniques, learning 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
In July 2019, an unexpected dental issue changed my plans, diverting me to Mexico instead of a visiting BC in Canada. After resolving the issue in San Miguel de Allende, I headed to Oaxaca, drawn by its rich indigenous arts culture and the presence 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 pigment 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 manageable and rewarding.
Back in the kitchen, I began working with soya beans, rosemary, bay leaves, turmeric, brazil wood, and other materials. We prepared dyes through cutting, soaking, cooking, and drying. 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 still a place where I feel at home.
Now my kitchen has taken on an expanded role. It’s where I cook, create home remedies, and also, where I make colors. I often have food on one burner and a dye pot on the other, experimenting with these dyes on paper and fabric. The natural, earthy look of these colors, and their subtle shifts as they dry, have deepened my love for these pigments.
Next Stop?
I hope 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.
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