Blog — natural dyes

From all the new designs that we worked on with C JEAN for our collaboration there is one pattern in particular from the collection that we are especially proud of. The overlapping wavering lines of blue, white and grey seen on the shirts (and C JEAN’s spectacular pants) are made using an adaptation of the Japanese “katazome” stencil dyeing technique. Although having dyed it made us feel pretty darn happy about ourselves it still remains a technique that we use sparingly in our work, the main reason being that at first glance it can be very difficult to distinguish this kind of fabric from one that is digitally printed. This makes it a particularly difficult kind of textile to hook people’s fascination with since it requires considerable time investment to understand what the textile is and how it was made. To help fellow textile enthusiasts understand what is going on with this design and to spread awareness of the method we are going to share a brief step-by-step process of how we achieved this pattern.

To start with a stencil is made by cutting a design from a waterproof material. Japanese dyers of olden times traditionally would use paper treated with fermented tannin-rich persimmon juice. Unfortunately these tend to come in a standard size and while this can work for smaller pieces or kimono-width fabric the large size of our project (a 2.5 meter long and 50 inch wide silk) meant we had to use something bigger. We ended up going for the largest thinnest sheet of flexible acrylic and laser cutting our design into it. It worked pretty well.

We steamed some rice flour and bran for several hours which we then blended to create a resist paste. This was applied through the stencil onto the tightly-stretched silk. The hardest part was connecting the lines by lifting the stencil, repositioning it further up the fabric and continuing to apply paste so that the pattern could repeat. This did not work so well. We ended up adding (more than) a few hints that it really was a handmade textile. Ah, c'est la vie.

The powder you see being brushed over the rice paste lines is sawdust and this helped to keep the paste from smearing the other sections of the textile once we put it in the indigo. After several dips in our indigo vat the paste is easily washed away and we can see the uniform blue and white lines running down nicely parallel to each other.

But this is only half of the puzzle because to achieve the illusory mirage-like effect that we wanted another set of lines had to go slightly across the first. We had seen a design like this already somewhere done with blue and white only, so for fun we thought of trying to add a third colour – grey/black. To do this we stretched the silk back out again, steamed new rice resist paste and started pasting on top of the previously dyed pattern – but this time at a slight angle. This angle is what created the intriguing intersections of lines that give us the desired pattern.

Once the paste dried we carefully applied a concentrated extract of myrobalan (Terminalia chebula) and light iron mordant with a brush. The tannins in the myrobalan reacted with the iron to give us a grey/black colour.

As I mentioned before without investing the time to understand the steps in this process it can be difficult for almost everyone today to distinguish a “katazome” stencil-dyed fabric from a digitally printed one. As we worked late into the night trying our best to shift the stencil a little this or that way to make the design repeat perfectly down the fabric we were forced to ask ourselves some hard questions: what was the point of getting covered in sticky rice goop at 2 in the morning and having to vacuum sawdust from the couch? Wouldn’t it just be easier, cheaper and quicker to print this design using modern technology?

There was a time when this technique represented the forefront of textile printing technology when extremely delicate graphic designs could only be made with these sorts of stencils. Staggeringly complex images with multiple layers of colour were created with sets of stencils that added layers upon layers of detail until a full picture emerged. Now we have the power at the tips of our fingers to have infinitely more beautiful designs with the push of a button almost instantaneously. Times have changed and sometimes I feel like there is no choice but to adapt and leverage the tools at hand. But then there was something about the “imperfections” of those lines that could be leveraged too. If we as craftsmen compete in the realm of visually precise repetitions and impeccably executed designs against machines then we will lose every time. But if we leverage those “imperfections” to accentuate the handcrafted nature of our arts and crafts we can start to turn the game to our favour. Overall this was a fun and challenging project from which many new ideas are emerging and already finding their way into our work.

Back in March this year we were invited by TCDC (Thailand Creative & Design Center) to join a collaborative project with a Taiwanese fashion designer C JEAN. The project was created by TCDC and Taiwan's SCCP (Songshan Cultural and Creative Park) and the aim is to build a relationship between designers from the two countries by exchanging ideas and collaborating together to develop works for a mini-exhibition in Bangkok in April.

Although the time given was extremely limited we felt that it would be a good opportunity for us to try new techniques and build a connection with C JEAN and SCCP. We also love Taiwan so much that we couldn't say no. Besides, the project theme 'Inspired by Nature' was also a perfect match with our work. 

To branch out from our usual shibori works we decided to try the eco-printing technique as we wanted to capture the colours and forms of our natural environment and transfer them onto the fabric. We started with pre-treating the silk with aluminium acetate. This helped the dye molecules from the plants stick to the fabric. Once the silk was ready we took a walk around our garden and collected various plant materials – leaves, flowers, stalks, petals, berries, etc, all of which were placed onto the silk. We also sprinkled some powdered dyestuff like sappanwood, safflower and mangosteen for an extra burst of colour. Then we rolled the fabric into a tight bundle which we secured with string, steamed for several hours and left to stand overnight. The next day after untying the bundle and washing the results could be seen. A fun and totally unpredictable technique that works really well on lustrous silk! 

C JEAN scanned our samples, digitally manipulated and printed onto silk to make some stunningly elegant garments. We’re really happy to see how the final pieces came out!

This collaboration continued when TCDC approached us again and asked if we were available to go to Taipei for a week in July to work towards another mini-exhibition at SCCP similar the one held in Bangkok. This time we had about a month and a half to work on the project.  After discussion with C JEAN we decided to take inspiration from the Op Art movement and the spectacular works of Venezuelan artist Carlos Cruz-Diez. 

Playing with the visual concept of kinetic energy and optical illusion effects we created the textiles with natural dyes and the use of shibori technique and stencil dyeing (katazome). These textiles were then featured in C JEAN’s designs for her sustainable fashion collection. She also made our outfits for the exhibition opening with the textiles we developed for this project!

The exhibit shows early development of our collaboration. Although we only had a short time to prepare for this exhibition, we are excited about future developments. The works are now being displayed in a mini exhibition in Songshan Cultural and Creative Park in Taipei until August 27th.

Ann’s elder brother runs a café in Bangkok and has been coming by to drop off batches of old coffee beans for our use in natural dyeing. He is quite passionate about his work and makes sure to only use the very best beans within 6 weeks of their roasting date. Any older than that and the quality of the flavors begin to degrade, at which point they come to us. The taste may not be so great anymore but the pigment is still there. 

To improve colour fastness on cellulose fabrics we first simmer the prepared cotton/linen in a tannin solution and leave it to soak overnight. The tannins (which we extract from simmering powdered Myrobalan nut) allow the mordant to “bite” into the fibre more effectively. On the second day the mordant (potassium aluminium sulphate or ferrous sulphate)is applied to the fabric either directly by brushing or by immersion in a pot and left overnight for better absorption. On the third day we extract the pigment by simmering ground coffee beans in a large pot and submerge the fabric, leaving it for yet another overnight soaking. It is a lengthy process but results in good colour. After dyeing in coffee if we want an overlaying pattern in another colour such as indigo on the same fabric we have to rework the fabric (take out previous stitching threads, wash, dry, plot new pattern, stitch and pull) and dye it again. While it takes time before we can see the final result it is also quite fun to experiment with new techniques and utilize an unexpected source of colour. Here are some of our latest coffee-dyeing experiments which will be patched together into an artwork for Hideaway café.

There has been a lot of work done this past month in preparation for the annual Chiang Mai NAP fair in December. Truth be told, we aren’t fully sure that we will be able to make it on time, but we do our best anyway. Precious moments at the indigo vat offer much-needed respite from the stresses of sorting out logistics necessary for getting the textiles out into the world.
 
Experiments in under-dyeing indigo with various natural dyes have continued. We used to get a nice steady supply of onion skins from Omu for golden-brown shades, but now that we live in Chiang Mai it has become more difficult to come by large quantities of the stuff. To stretch their use as far as we can we’ve decided to start extracting any leftover pigment from exhausted dye-baths. The process is known as making “lakes” and involves adding Potassium Alum to the dye-bath which binds to any remaining pigment molecules. When Soda Ash is added to this mixture the solution turns alkaline which changes the Alum to an insoluble state. It then slowly sinks to the bottom of the container together with the pigment. After being left overnight the top portion of liquid is siphoned off, fresh water is added to the accumulated pigment and the mixture is left to settle again. By repeating this process several times we end up with a very pure concentrated pigment free from any impurities. The pigment is ready for collection when the top portion of liquid is completely clear (this usually takes 3-4 days), at which stage it is siphoned off for the last time. The accumulated pigment is then filtered through coffee filters, dried and stored.

As you can see it really doesn’t yield much material. Normally we wouldn’t think twice about watering our garden with the exhausted dye-bath since the botanical materials we use are non-toxic. But there is a very good reason for going through all the trouble to save pigment in this form. It has potential for some interesting applications. When ground and mixed with a binder it can be used for painting on paper or as a wall plaster. For textile artists specifically there exist exciting possibilities to apply this pigment through stencils directly onto fabric to create finely detailed designs. This is something we would love to explore further, possibly early next year.

A Nui-Shibori/stitch-resist pattern that we have been working on has been adapted for some gorgeously light hand-spun handwoven cotton from Northern Thailand. The resulting fabric is a comfortably large (200cm long by 70cm wide) scarf that works well in our tropical Thai climate when loosely draped or can be worn snugly around the neck when in more temperate zones of the world. It was a monster of a job and I couldn’t figure out why until I did a calculation out of pure interest: 200 stitching threads make 30 turns each. There are a total of 6000 stitches that compress this fabric into the shape necessary for one scarf’s length of this pattern. When the threads were being pulled the fabric suddenly started collapsing into a spiral structure that looked like something found on the roof of a Gaudi apartment complex. We made a risky decision at this point to try under-dyeing the bundle in Myrobalan before giving it to the indigo to obtain some very gentle yellow-green undertones. I think it turned out pretty well and we are happy with the result. Hopefully we can make a few more in time for December’s event.

The indigo seeds we saw sprouting in July are already waist-high and pretty much take care of themselves now. Their resilience is incredible. What used to look like a patch of dry clay rock-hard desert nightmare wasteland is suddenly teeming with all sorts of life. Other plants have started growing under the protective shade of the indigo and colourful critters have taken up residence in the micro-sanctuary. It’s the crappiest soil on the plot by far and right now has the greatest diversity of life. We should have sown the seeds everywhere. The making and broadcasting of Masanobu Fukuoka-style clay indigo-seed-balls will have to wait until early next year.

Up until now all of our work was being done out of a spare kitchen and a single indigo vat in the back garden of Ann’s mother’s house in Bangkok. The decision to relocate to Chiang Mai was made long ago but it was only last week that we finished the bulk of our work in hectic Bangkok and finally made the move to the green North. With a lot of help on the way we ended up renting this lovely place for the purposes of setting up a proper studio and dyeing/weaving space.

The very first thing we did was plant indigo. The soil for the most part is bare bone dry dirt with heavy grey clay just two inches below it with a few somewhat-established fruit trees on the perimeter doing the best they can. In a way this is great because it gives us an excellent place to start experimenting with the soil-improvement capabilities of the local indigo (Indigofera Tinctoria) which just so happens to be in the Leguminosae family. With the presence of Rhizobium bacteria it should fix atmospheric nitrogen in the soil (with the awesome byproduct of us being able to harvest our very own indigo pigment). By growing indigo amongst mixed perennial species, covering any exposed soil with carbon-rich plant material and sprawling groundcover plants, applying compost, worm castings and fermented bio liquids and using no-dig planting methods we hope to significantly improve the soil’s fertility, water-retention, and microbial activity which should result in a healthy, diverse and self-sustaining forest garden of abundance.

We started our experiments with a one-time ploughing of four short rows to break up some of the clay and incorporate worm castings and shredded coconut husk into the soil. We then scattered our Indigofera Tinctoria seeds, covered them with more shredded coconut and gave them a good watering. Three days later little sprouts were already poking their first sets of leaves through the mulch. They will have about a week of care and watering after which we must leave them to fend for themselves. Hopefully they will become established by then.

We also made some time to continue our explorations in under-dyeing indigo with coffee and myrobalan. The “butterfly” pattern we liked in our previous post was reproduced, this time at larger intervals and with the yellow being extracted from onion skins.

Indigo can impart some pretty stunning shades on cloth but after working with it for over a year it can feel a little tiring having to look at blue stuff all day. So a few weeks ago we started throwing another dyestuff into the mix: coffee! With its palette ranging from light creamy beige all the way to coal black it yields a great assortment of colours that pair well with indigo, slightly reminiscent of the indigo-kakishibu (fermented astringent persimmon) combination found in Japan.

In our previous work we physically rubbed the coffee grounds into the fabric (which incidentally promotes circulation in your palms and makes them super soft) to give a faded toned-down look to otherwise stark blues and whites. By rubbing we created a mechanical bond between the coffee pigment and the cloth, somewhat akin to how indigo pigment behaves by becoming trapped in weak electrostatic bonds within the fibres. Most natural dyes however do not work like this and require the cloth to be pretreated with a metallic salt which allows the dye to “bite” into the fibre once it is submerged in the dye solution. By applying various concentrations of thickened mordants (alum and ferrous sulphate) directly onto the cloth with a brush and then submerging it into a dye bath of coffee we were able to achieve more colours than by rubbing alone. The mordanting process also gives fastness and (relative) permanence to the colours.

The shades from the initial test pieces (#1,#2 and #3 from the left) were too light so we also began treating the fabric with tannic acid prior to mordanting and dyeing which intensified the colours. For #4 and #5 the tannic acid was extracted by simmering pomegranate skins (#4 had various mordant concentrations brushed on the flat fabric and #5 was stitched and compressed prior to the mordant application. Both pieces were then dyed in coffee). The pomegranate left an orange tint which we did not want for our final project so for test piece #6 we extracted tannin from myrobalan which gave us the colours we wanted. We then stitched, compressed and manipulated various fabrics before treating them. The following works are a four-step process: treatment with tannic acid extracted from myrobalan, application of ferrous sulphate/alum mordant, dyeing by simmering in coffee extract and a final over-dye of indigo (except the first piece which omits the indigo over-dye).

We especially liked the last piece and decided to reproduce it on a bigger scale. This pattern is most likely going to be something that we will incorporate into our future project.

These new colours are unexplored territory for us and the process of discovering how the myriad of variables can be tweaked is irresistibly exciting. It seems there are so many things that can be taken into account when working with natural dyes. Do you boil or simmer the dye material during extraction? For how long? What is the pot made of? Does the water have a neutral PH or any contaminants in it? Which metallic salt will you use as a mordant? At what concentration/combination ratio? Does the fabric receive the mordant before, during or after the dyeing? Are your hands free of contaminants that upon contact with the cloth may result in uneven dye penetration? Are there variations in the pigment based on which month of the year the plant material was collected or whether the harvest came from the North or South side of the trunk (as is the case for certain species of eucalyptus)? The smallest seemingly insignificant details can all affect the outcome and perhaps that’s one of the reasons why we are having such fun with natural dyeing: because the process itself feels like playful interaction with another entity that is very much alive, with its own mysteries, nuances and rules that we can learn with time, experience and luck to bend but never break.

There is a Bauhinia tree with beautiful purple flowers growing in the front yard of my house and everyday there are plenty of fallen petals on the ground.  I had been collecting these soft fragile purple petals and freezing them until I had enough to make a dye bath. I didn’t find any information about using this plant as a dye source so it was exciting to see whether or not it would work. Surprisingly, the water turned brown after soaking the flower petals for one night and the dyed results are shown below. I especially like the golden colour it produces when combined with alum mordant.

Next is red amaranth which I planted back in November. I collected some leaves to see whether I can make a dye bath out of them. The plant itself and colour of the leaves are beautiful. Although dye liquid extracted from soaking and boiling the leaves was reddish, the colours produced on cloth were soft browns and beiges. The plants are now shooting up flowers so I will start collecting them soon and see if I can also use them as a dye source.

Red cabbage is another interesting plant to experiment with. The dye liquid produced from soaking and boiling is blue and so the dye results range from dark greyish blue to lilac blue.

Before I went to Japan in 2013 and had the introductory experience of indigo dyeing and shibori, my works were often very colourful and vivacious so the thought of studying and focusing on one colour was quite strange and unlikely to me. No matter how much I tried to limit myself to just a couple of colours in the beginning of my weaving or designing projects, it was in my nature to always have the urge of throwing in more colours in my work. During my 2-month study experience in Japan, I was drawn towards the subtle quality of Japanese aesthetic as well as the beauty of indigo and natural dyeing. While I was studying the processes of indigo dyeing I realised that it is truly an art which takes years and tremendous amount of experience, trials and errors to become an expert. Although indigo maybe perceived as just one colour by some, numerous shades and depths can be skilfully achieved and it is indeed a very special and fascinating colour. For the past year, our main focus has been learning and experimenting with indigo. Serg and I went to quite a few places to see and study different methods and works of indigo dyeing, and although I am still very much curious and eager to learn more and become better at it, it is inevitable in my nature to always want to get my hands on dyeing with other colours as well.

I have quite a good amount of dyeing experience from my college days but every project was done using synthetic dyes in powder form. Once I decided to shift the focus of my work to natural dyeing, I realised that the knowledge that I gained from college can rarely be applied to it. In comparison to chemical dyeing, natural dyeing is not as easy to control, the processes take much longer and there are countless different methods for all the different plant and fibres. Even so, the environmental aspect of natural dyeing and the extensive processes yield much fascination and excitement to me. One can spend a lifetime to study and experiment with all sorts mordants and plants. This year we plan to spend more time to focus, research and produce works not only from indigo but from other plant dyes as well. I have started the year experimenting with 4 types of plants; onion, mango, pomegranate and black bean. The different shades were achieved by applying different concentrations of iron and alum mordants on the fabric. All the dyeing was done on linen.

Onion skins are available in most kitchens. I got some from my brother’s restaurant. The chefs there peel lots of onions almost every day and it is a shame that they usually throw the precious skins away considering how many beautiful colours they can produce. From my dye bath the colours achieved range from bright yellows, ochres and browns.

Next is mango leaves. I have a big mango tree growing in front of my house so it was very convenient to obtain the leaves. I picked the leaves almost a week before I did the dyeing so they were dry when I soaked them to make a dye bath. The leaves yield warm, muted shades of soft yellows and browns.

Pomegranates are full of benefits and they grow everywhere in Thailand. The skins are rich in tannin and can be use as both mordant and dye. With alum mordant they produce bright yellow. With iron mordants greenish greys, dark greys and black can be achieved.

Lastly, I tried dyeing with black beans. The beans were soaked in water for a night and I used the soaking water to dye the fabrics. The good thing about this is you’re not wasting the beans and you can cook the soaked beans for dinner afterwards. While in the dye bath, the alum-mordanted block appeared to be more blue than when it’s dry which was quite exciting. However, once dried the colour turned slightly more grey.

Applying different mordant concentrations on a fabric is a great way to test a plant to see which colours it can produce using only one dye bath. It is also fascinating to see how one dye plant can yield so many different shades and colours when binding with different mordants. Although dyeing with synthetic dyes is much faster and more convenient, I feel that the process of natural dyeing is in many ways more exciting and rewarding. It changes the way I look at plants and expands my appreciation for nature. There are still so much more to try, learn and discover. I will keep posting more experiments with other plants in the near future.