pied midden: issue no.15 : reciprocal foraging: turtle island lakers

Photo by Tilke Elkins.

last remaining commons

Artists who forage for art materials are uniquely positioned to establish reciprocal relationships with the land that are outside the cycle of extractive commodification. There are many areas of life that are so intertwined with capitalist exploitation, which views the land as “standing reserve” — there simply for the taking and use by humans —that it’s difficult to know where to begin to end these destructive practices. The progression of capitalism over the centuries has lead to a steady reduction of “the Commons” — common ground whose gifts are shared and managed by all in non-monetary ways. The plants, minerals and products of the human waste-stream that can be foraged almost anywhere today, and used by artists for what ochre-whisperer Heidi Gustafson calls “aesthetic transmission/reception” (communication transmitted and received through aesthetic forms) represent one of the last widely available Commons for humanity. 

While many of us, especially in urban areas, may not be able to feed, clothe or house ourselves without capitalist structures, we can still make creative work using materials we find. We can pick up fragments of construction waste, such as copper, iron, and sheetrock. We can collect fallen nut hulls and parts of ubiquitous plants that make beautiful inks and dyes. The availability of these and other materials allows artists to opt out of the commodification of materials used for creative practice, and provides the opportunity to establish and maintain healthy, supportive relationships with the land through what I call “reciprocal foraging,” a term inspired by Robin Wall Kimmerer’s use of the word “reciprocity” in the description of the honorable harvest in her incredible book, Braiding Sweetgrass. Of course, much of what I outline here are practices that will be familiar to people with ancestral connections to Indigenous cultures, cultures that introduced me to many of these practices.

As artists everywhere, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, share this common ground more and more, and integrate wild pigments into creative practice, the potential to build a global community of independent artists/land stewards who honor Indigenous custodians and sacred lands grows. Artists who take care to choose materials that are abundantly available, and who leave that which is rare, in limited supply, reserved for Indigenous cultural practice or located on sacred sites, or connected to environments which would be damaged by the presence of foragers, are artists who cultivate a deep material relationship with land without creating a demand for materials which would bring harm to living systems.

This significant, wide-spread shift in art material use ushers in a new creative era. Of course, the “aesthetic reception” of work made with these materials is different from what contemporary artists and their audiences have grown accustomed to since the wide-spread use of organic synthetic pigments. In the context of contemporary art, the medium that is “wild pigments” carries a different message from the visuals conveyed by synthetically-produced color. Wild pigments covey a message of collaboration with the earth’s living systems, of the persistence of life, biodiversity, thriving. And also — decay, grieving, impermanence.

Collaboration and mutual uplifting is a key ingredient to the persistence of life on this planet. Therefore, let me make clear that Wild Pigment Project’s Guidelines to Reciprocal Foraging, soon to be outlined here, need to be — MUST be, in my humble yet vigorous opinion, preceded by a dedication to an avoidance of the practice of harshly and dismissively judging others (and ourselves for that matter) for what they/we do, and in particular, for the materials they/we use. I celebrate all gestures, however small, which bring the life on this planet into greater mutual appreciation. If that means integrating a single wild pigment into one’s art practice, or simply spending time outside taking in the beauty of wild pigments where they flourish, then I celebrate that. If it means not “doing it right,” from my perspective, then I might feel sad (I have a right to feel that), but I’m not going to judge, because 1) I never know the reasons for what people do 2) everyone is at a different stage of this journey,  3) my beliefs are not necessarily “right” — they’re just what feel right to me, and 4) I can put the time I’d spend judging into creating what I love.

All these things said, I’ve decided to step into what feels to me like an edgy, vulnerable place and share exactly what feels right to me, in this current moment. That’s all this is — not a dictation, nor a pronouncement. If you feel interested in sharing your impressions of what feels right to me with me, I welcome your feedback. If you have constructive things to say to me about places my convictions might benefit from adjustment, I heartily welcome that as well. I acknowledge that as director of Wild Pigment Project, my transmissions are received and considered by many, and it is always my hope and intention to convey messages which bring positive benefit to the world. Conversations with those with greater experience or depth of perception than I are the richest way to hone the messages I put forth through this project. 

Hold onto your hats! Here we go…

An Aspen Being. Photo by Tilke Elkins.

Wild Pigment Project’s Guidelines to Reciprocal Foraging

Guiding Principles

1. The World is alive. All land, water, beings and elementals are alive and capable of communication with human beings.

2. Reciprocal foraging is an exchange of energy between forager and foraged. Gifts flow in both directions. In exchange for the gifts of the land — which are both material and not material — foragers can offer a range of gifts, detailed below. 

Gifts Offered to the Land by Reciprocal Foragers

1. RESPECT

Honoring the land by acknowledging the presence, sentience and wisdom here is the keystone of reciprocal foraging. 

2. OBSERVATION & CURIOSITY

Cultural Observation

• Learning about cultural practices of Traditional Owners/First Peoples/Indigenous Custodians relevant to the foraging place, through conversations and other research. Avoiding foraging for plants, soils and minerals that are essential to Indigenous cultural practice.

• Learning about other cultural histories of place: immigrant cultures, and cultures connected to enslaved or indentured people.

• Honoring and avoiding foraging on sacred sites and unmarked grave sites by learning about their histories and locations.

• Studying Western culture’s perspectives on the foraging place based on ecological and other scientifically-oriented practices and beliefs.

• Obtaining relevant information from other entities connected to the foraging place, such as parks, conservation groups, and individuals.

Personal Observation

• Site-specific, sensory observation of the interspecies communities — including human communities — in the foraging place, both over time and in the present moment.

3. PERSONAL INTEGRITY

• Opening a line of communication with place. Listening, and expressing intent. Refraining from foraging if to do so intuitively feels inappropriate.

• Gathering only what’s necessary for a pre-determined project, or educational purpose, as opposed to hoarding or collecting large quantities for the sake of a “collection.” Returning what’s not used for that project to the site where the material was given.

• Gathering small quantities of material, and only when there’s a clear abundance. “Carry out only what can be held in two hands,” is one guideline, but sometimes much less is what’s best.

4. GIVING THANKS

Giving thanks to the land through open acknowledgement of gifts, in the form of creative output, joyful celebration, prayer, meditation, or small, biodegradable material offerings of personal/cultural significance.

5. GIVING TIME

• Being with the land in non-foraging contexts, to build intimacy and trust with the multi-species communities.

• Spending time forming relationships with Traditional Owners/First Peoples/Indigenous Custodians. Donating time to help share information about Indigenous cultures. Volunteering time to Indigenous organizations which welcome volunteer support.

• If a member of an advantaged population or race, spending time improving access to foraging sites, such as national parks, forests and other places for underinvested or marginalized populations.

• Caring for the land by physically practicing land stewardship: working with established land stewards to collect trash, plant seeds, nourish the land. Volunteering time to help run land stewardship organizations.

6. GIVING MONEY

• If thriving financially, giving money regularly to land/cultural organizations, or dedicating a percentage of income to support land and community.

• If managing a business, building a generous financial return to the land and its stewards into the financial structure of the business.

7. SHARING KNOWLEDGE & WISDOM

Teaching others about reciprocal foraging and the many ways to nurture the land, by freely sharing knowledge and experience through passionate joy and enthusiasm, is one of the best ways to return the gifts of the land to the land. Regular acknowledgement of elders, mentors and teachers creates strong community bonds which benefit all.

~Tilke Elkins, Wild Pigment Project, October 2020

Drying popolo lake. Image courtesy of Avalon Paradea.

lands o’ lakes

How’s that for a pop cultural reference to a pseudo-butter spread? I just couldn’t resist. While my wise mom did everything she could to limit my exposure to television, she had no truck when I visited my grandma, who indulgently allowed me to glue my eyeballs to the set for marathon seven-hour stretches. Ok, I’ll admit it: I really loved the commercials.

The ‘lands o’ lakes’ heading is an introduction to something far more interesting, however. What I want to tell you about is this month’s extraordinary Ground Bright contribution, a compilation of eight different laked pigments produced by four different contributors. This contribution is significant because laking is freakin’ time consuming, and while one of this month’s contributors, Natalie Stopka, heroically took on a whole month herself last November, producing gorgeous Weld and Tansy lakes for Ground Bright subscribers, subscriptions have grown to the point where the task is simply too much for one artist (woohoo!! this is of course cause for celebration — that 22% is getting fat! and what I can do as solo operator of this ship is expanding :) ).

Untitled viii by Natalie Stopka. Image courtesy of Natalie Stopka.

The four lakers chose the blue-green spectrum as their focal point (which has tempted me to refer to them as the ‘Green lakers,’ but it sounds too much like a sports reference for my taste). Natalie Stopka is a textile artist interested in rediscovering half-forgotten historic methods like natural dyeing, pigment extraction, marbling and surface manipulation. With a dye garden in Yonkers, she also gathers dye plants in upstate New York. I’m a big fan of her marbled works, which are atmospheric and entrancing.

Since the pandemic struck, Natalie has crafted a series of virtual workshops, offered through the Peters Valley School of Craft: an Introduction to Natural Dyeing, Painting with Natural Pigments and Soy, Fabric Marbling, Japanese Marbling, and Bundle Dying.

Natalie has again made a contribution of her wildly popular weld lake pigment, this time slightly “saddened” (my favorite technical term of all time) with a little iron to bring it closer to the chartreuse-green end of the brilliant yellow.

Hopi Sunflower. Image courtesy of Julie Beeler.

Julie Beeler is a textile and dye artist, gardener and forager. She writes that she “experiments with the unpredictability of plants by growing and harvesting, observing and foraging, and tethering herself to nature’s seasons.” Blooming and dyeing is a slow process, she says, one requiring full sensory immersion. Her flower farm and education center, Bloom and Dye, on the banks of the Salmon River in Trout Lake, Washington, usually offers all kinds of fabulous botanically-oriented workshops (in non-covid times, that is…): botanical printing, mushroom dyes, indigo magic, eco printing and bundle dyes. On October 12th, she’ll be offering “Mycology & Color: Mushroom Dyes” at Wildcraft Studio School in Portland, Oregon.

Julie’s green lake contribution is a rich and saturated Hopi Sunflower (helianthus annuus) olive green. The Hopi Sunflower is native to this continent, and is thought to have been domesticated at least 6,000 years ago. Known as Tcega’ Qu ’Is in Hopi, Hopi Black Dye Sunflower is a traditional dye used in Hopi basketry and yarn dyeing. Hopi Sunflower seeds were first imported to Europe in 1510, and in 1832, a few varieties were brought to Germany for oil pressing. When these sunflowers returned to their homelands, under the name of ‘Mammoth Russians,” they nearly wiped out the native heirloom Hopi sunflowers still growing here. 

The seeds for Julie’s Hopi Sun lake came from the great seed company, Grand Prismatic Seeds, which in 2020 is donating 100% of online sales for Hopi Black Dye seeds to Utah Dine Bikeyah’s Traditional Foods Program.

Ashlee Weitlauf has made more lakes than anyone I know. She just can’t get enough of the magical process that is laking! She’s particularly fascinated by how much the process — with all its shifts of acidity and alkalinity — can change the hue of the plant pigments she lakes. A red rose can yield a deep purple-black lake, while a vibrant purple pansy turns a brilliant kelly green in the lake bath. I know all about these details because I’ve spent time with Ashlee in her tiny well-ordered studio, and beheld all her lake samples with wonder. My first successful lake was made with her guidance, and I continue to glean inspiration from her website, which features hand-painted headings and a plethora of historical and personally-crafted color wheels, all painted with her lakes. 

I’ve been having fun sharing this cornucopia of laked eye-candy on instagram, so probably most of you have seen them there. Here are a couple you haven’t seen, both Ashlee’s own creations.

Ashlee’s Ground Bright contribution is as expected — varied and unusual. It contains not one but SIX different lakes: three separate hues from pansies, tulip, and rose. Blues, aquas and greens that would please a parrot! Ground Bright subscribers, aren’t you positively beaming with gleeful anticipation? What ever will end up in your mailbox, dear subscriber, I wonder?

Our last, but certainly not least, laker is Avalon Paradea, an artist in Hawai’i with a background in anthropology, ethnobotany, archeology and environmental conservation. She supports Indigenous Hawai’ian culture through her work with kapa, a traditional Hawaian fabric made with the bast fibers of ‘ulu or other trees and shrubs. This past winter, she ran a successful crowdsourcing effort to purchase a collection of historic kappa, which was donated to the Edwin H Mo’okini Library at the University of Hawai’i at Hilo’s. 

Avalon is, in fact, the laker who inspired the green theme for this month. Months ago, she generously offered to contribute some laked pōpolo, which holds a really gorgeous kelly green pigment. She writes, of the plant:

Pōpolo (Solanum americanum, black nightshade) is an herbaceous plant indigenous to Hawaiʻi. This plant has numerous uses in lāʻau lapaʻau (traditional Hawaiian medicine). The leaves can be used as a poultice for bruising and broken bones, the juice as a laxative, and the ripe berries to treat thrush. Pōpolo is a tough little plant, often thriving in disturbed areas. The etymology of pōpolo is debated, but most point to the deep purple berries as a source for this term, with "pō" referring to darkness.

In turn, this word has long been used as local slang for people of African heritage. The Pōpolo Project is an incredible organization aimed at supporting black individuals in Hawaiʻi, and they have a wonderful article that explores this word in more detail. I encourage those interested to visit www.thepopoloproject.org for more info.

Avalon’s lake in progress. Image courtesy of Avalon Paradea.

turtle island lakes

As a reflection of the abundant nature of this month’s pigment, we’re also directing our 22% donation to not one but two different amazing organizations dedicated to racial, environmental and economic justice on this planet. The first is the one mentioned above. The Pōpolo Project is redefining what it means to be Black in Hawai’i and in the world through “cultivating radical connection to ourselves, our community, our ancestors and the land, changing what we commonly think of as Local and highlighting the vivid, complex diversity of Blackness.”  

Because the lakes come from four different locations — Hawai’i, New York, Oregon and Washington — we’ve decided to donate the remaining three-fourths of the funds to the Indigenous Environmental Network. IEN is a formidable alliance of Indigenous peoples whose mission is “to protect the sacredness of Earth Mother from contamination and exploitation by strengthening, maintaining and respecting Indigenous teachings and natural laws.”

IEN has been and is active in multiple campaigns to protect sacred sites, land, water, air and natural resources, including the Indigenous Just Transition Campaign, the Green New Deal, and Keep It In the Ground. This year, the group has participated in in direct actions in the path of the Keystone XL pipeline in the US and Canada, as well as organizing to help establish direly needed Relief Funds for Indigenous communities experiencing their most severe crisis in decades as a result of the double impact of high deadly rates of COVID-19, and economic challenges due to business closures. IEN has also been active in the efforts to protect the sacred site of Maunea Kea, on the Big Island of Hawai’i, from the construction of the Thirty Meter Telescope — a campaign that is far from over. 

The term “Turtle Island” is one used by several Indigenous cultures on the east coast, including the Haudenosaunee , the Ojibwe, and the Cree. Versions of the story of Turtle Island often include the forming of land on the back of a turtle, which becomes, in some versions, the continent called “North America.” Turtle Island is also used by some to refer to the whole planet and the life it supports. Indigenous rights activists, both Indigenous and not, often refer to the earth as ‘Turtle Island,’ especially since the 1970’s when the term came into wider usage.  

I’d like to point out that in the Pacific Northwest, where Julie, Ashlee and I live, many of the Indigenous stories about how this land came into being involve a raven or other animal, not a turtle. But the term felt broad and relevant enough, especially considering its placement in the Indigenous rights movement, that we felt it was suitable.

Speaking of the protecting of sacred lands, there’s a film series that is an absolute must-watch for anyone reading this who wants to learn more about the state of Indigenous sacred sites all over the world. It’s called Standing on Sacred Ground, and it’s an incredibly moving, upsetting and inspiring cinematographic account of Indigenous people around the world standing up for their traditional sacred lands in defense of cultural survival, human rights, and the environment.  

equitable opportunity scholarship news

For those of you who don’t have thumb carpal tunnel from scrolling and may not have heard the news on Instagram, I’m delighted to announce the two recipients of the very first Wild Pigment Project Equitable Opportunity Scholarship. 

Shereen Hussain Khan is a dyer, circus artist and avid cultural researcher based in South East England, who’s interested in working with foraged flower waste and clothing design. Originally inspired when she learned about her great-grandfather’s background as a weaver and natural dyer in Northern India/Kashmir, she’s become fascinated with botanical pigments and their potential for sustainable practice. She’s applying her scholarship to an online course with Australian artist/dyer India Flint, called ‘Conscious Clothing.” India has also generously offered Shereen her “String Class.” thank you, India!

Simone Johnson is an interdisciplinary artist with a practice in New York City. Her background in urban agriculture gives her an affinity for soil, and the plant world as well. She’s immersed in growing food and herbs and saving seeds, with a focus on movement and visual art. A lot of her work is about water. A current piece, called “Painting Wetland Medicine,” is a project that aims to incorporate both water and earth pigments. Simone has applied her scholarship to a series of mentoring sessions with me! We’re having a wonderful time getting to know each other and learning from each other. Thank you, Simone, for this fantastic mentoring opportunity!

And much thanks as well to all of you Ground Bright subscribers who helped make this dream come true. The 22% of proceeds from July made up the bulk of these scholarships. The scholarship itself was inspired by a very thoughtful gift from artist Jaqueline Christensen, who sold hand-painted post cards and donated the proceeds to Wild Pigment Project just as the pandemic was beginning. Thanksyou to all of you, and to other independent donators who gave generously!

This has all gone so well that I’m already getting excited about the next round! Rather than wait until next July, I’ll be organizing a fund-raising art auction for the scholarship early this winter. If you’re a pigment practitioner or artist who would like to donate pigments or botanical, mineral or waste-stream-pigment-related artwork, please write to me, Tilke, at info@wildpigmentproject and we can get the process started. If you’re interested in applying for the next scholarship, look for application dates in early winter.

And, if ya just wanna write and say hello, I cherish your feedback on what I write here. 

Stay Imperfect,

<3 Tilke

You gotta watch My Octopus Teacher, too. Jus’ sayin.’