pied midden: issue no.19 : three parts red dirt: part one: kelly moody & simone johnson

what is ochre, exactly?

You may have noticed yourself slipping through strata of related but not identical definitions of ochre, and wondering, what even is ochre? Americans & Europeans — especially painters & paint-makers — have a fairly narrow definition of what makes an ochre: it’s a pigment found in clay that has an iron oxide content that’s higher than 12%. Varying amounts of water in the iron oxide molecule make a range of hues: yellow ochres have the highest water content, while red ochres, or ‘hematite’ are ‘anhydrous.' their water content has been heated out of existence (it's called 'calcining,' and it's something you can witness first-hand by heating yellow ochres ). Yellow iron oxides with manganese look browner & are called ‘siennas.’ With still more manganese present, they get even darker & are what’s known as ‘umbers.’ So, burnt sienna and burnt umber: brown with reddish casts. Anything in the yellow-orange-red-pink-purple range is considered an ochre, due to its combination of iron and oxygen. The only exception to this is vivianite, which is referred to as a ‘blue ochre,’ and is a hydrated iron phosphate, not an iron oxide.

I ran this narrow definition by ochre whisperer Heidi Gustafson recently, and she snorted a little and reflected that while that definition is useful for discussing spectral qualities and pigment intensity, it's not the only scene where the word 'ochre' hangs out. For Indigenous Australians, ‘ochre’ is used to describe any pigment that originates in (or on) the ground. This includes white pigments like chalk (‘white ochre’), and black pigments, like manganese and charcoal (‘black ochre’). The term also encompasses all the greens, like chlorite, celadonite and glauconite, which Euro-based cultures call ‘green earths,’ not ochres.

For Heidi, ochres are mineral beings that communicate aesthetically and most often (though not always) do contain those two essential elements of this planet, iron and oxygen. The bodily affinities that we share with these rock people have held us locked in a 300,000-year dance of ritual, protection, medicine, transformation and evolution together. When ochre enters your life, says Heidi, something’s up in the inner world. This has certainly been true for me. The more time you spend with ochre, the more you see -- of ochre, of yourself, and of the patterns that humanity is held by.

(This just in: according to geologist/pigment researcher/co-initiator of World Pigment Day, Ruth Siddall, the definition of ochre, geologically speaking, is "an earthy material rich in metal oxides and oxide hydroxides." She points out that "you can get nickel ochres, cobalt ochres, etc." not just iron ochres. Cobalt ochres, she says, can give good purples -- especially cobalt arsenate erythrite, which is the equivalent to the synthetic pigment, magnesium cobalt arsenate, an early form of cobalt violet much used by Monet in the 1860s, though banned now since it's toxic. Thanks, Ruth! )

three ochre teachings: part one

Three ochreous, red-orange soils, from three different areas of the globe are the focus of Ground Bright's next three months. From where I sit, these three locations -- Virginia, Jamaica and Great Britain -- share the trajectory of English colonialism as it unfolded from Europe, as English settler-explorers arrived in first the Caribbean, and then eventually what's now called North America, enslaving Native people in both places and, when colonial demand for enslaved workers was not satisfied, kidnapped and imported Africans. So, working backwards, we're starting this month with Virginia.

The state is the site of the first permanent English colony in North America, established in 1607 on Native lands. Many of the early seeds of racism in the United Stated as we know it today can be said to have been planted there. Until the 1730s, Virginia and nearby North Carolina were heavily involved in the buying and selling of enslaved Indigenous people. In 1619, the first 19 Africans to reach the English colonies arrived in Virginia, near Jamestown, brought by British privateers who seized them from a Portuguese trade ship. In 1672, a rebellion took place, led by a coalition of European and African indentured servants not far from the site where this month's Ground Bright pigment was gathered, with horrific results for the Occaneechi people. As Kelly Moody describes in her essay below, this alliance was a major impetus for the rich ruling class to begin granting certain privileges to poor Europeans that Africans were denied, as a way to create animosity and a sense of "white" superiority that would keep these sorts of coalitions from building. In other words, the idea of race and racial disharmony had to be constructed to keep the rich in power.

Virginia later became the site of the first slave laws, which marked the sanctioning of enslavement in the English colonies. Virginia was also where the first "inherited status" laws came into being, condemning all children born to enslaved mothers to be themselves enslaved. All this took place as part of the plantation culture which was kept in motion by stolen labor on stolen land -- land that was stolen precisely so it could be used to generate white wealth with Black toil and keep land in white ownership. Hold a piece of red soil from Virginia in your hand and you're holding this legacy. Pigment is a manageable dust that nevertheless carries with it the unwieldy energies of its histories, as well as the power to redirect them.

This month's pigment, Occaneechi Shimmer, is named after the Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation, some of whose ancestors lived near the site where this iron oxide-rich ochre was gathered by artist/writer/podcaster/herbalist Kelly Moody. The OBSN community, which originally spanned Virginia and North Carolina, came into being as a joining of several culturally and linguistically related groups, including the Saponi proper, the Occaneechi, the Eno, the Tutelo and others. The band's history is complex and includes the development of an acculturated community as distinct from a traditional community as early as the 1720s. Today, the majority of members live in North Carolina, where, in 2002, they began an ambitious project of buying back a portion of their ancestral lands.

It's another small but significant instance of #landback: for the first time in over 250 years, the Occaneechi own land again as a Tribe. They've developed a permanent ceremonial ground, and are in the process of planting Tribal Orchards with heirloom apples, chestnuts, paw-paws and muscadine grapes, building nature trails, and a Tribal Museum, and reconstructing a 1701 Occaneechi Village and an 1880's era farm. The Homeland Project will receive half of Ground Bright's 22% donation this month, as per Kelly's choice. Half of this newsletter features photos and an essay by Kelly about the Occaneechi Shimmer site and the ways she, as a sixth-generation Virginian, sees the land changing.

The other half of the newsletter is dedicated to writing by the interdisciplinary artist Simone Johnson, who I'm in the process of sharing with and learning from in wild pigment studies. Simone is currently the Reparations Researcher at Culture Push, an arts organization in NYC. Simone writes about different perspectives on Reparations, and the importance of approaching Black Reparations and the Indigenous Land Back movement together. When asked which Black organization she would suggest as a relevant recipient for the other half of the Ground Bright donation, Simone recommended the Acres of Ancestry Initiaive/Black Agrarian Fund, which works for "collective liberation through the preservation of Black agrarian custodial landownership, ecological stewardship, and food and fiber economies in the South." Simone is especially drawn to Acres of Ancestry because of their engagement in birthwork, which is a focus of her creative research.

Land Reparations and the history of English colonialism in particular are personally relevant to me. As far as I can tell, most of my ancestral lines on both sides of my family find their way back to England, through New England, Canada and Australia. Genetically, I'm steeped in everything my ancestors did to thrive in these places, including all the ways they violated the humanity, eliminated the freedoms, and depended on the unpaid labor of others. I didn't plan this three-ochre series for Ground Bright, which neatly parallels the route that English colonialism took from England to the Caribbean to Virginia. When it comes to connecting with contributors for this monthly pigment subscription, I go on trust, relying on relationships with people which present themselves when they're ready. Sometimes a contribution is offered, and other times, if I feel it's appropriate and welcome, I make an invitation. If I'm lucky, contributors appear a couple of months in advance, as they have here, and patterns emerge.

what's the use of art?

As I've myself been delving more deeply into understanding the histories of colonization and extractive capitalism, this opportunity to collaborate with pigment contributors who are also engaged in examining deep histories of place through ochre-rich soils has manifested. After many months of no-or-low warm iron-y ochres in the Ground Bright series (see the image, above! starting in July, we had chlorite, indigo, mica, green, copper/glacial silt, iron black and violet hematite!), these three reddish ochres have suddenly presented themselves, all in a row. Heidi would agree here, I know -- the language of ochre is one of timing and synchronicity.

Timing and synchronicity are also the primary materials of the artist, who listens for them through research, aesthetic transmission, and, as Simone describes it, "storying." I'm not a geologist, or a chemist, or a historian, or a paint-maker, or even really a craftsperson, though pigments get me dabbling enthusiastically in all of those. What I am is an artist. My job is to attune to serendipity and portent, to be there to receive alignments when they happen, and to shine a light on them so others can maybe see them too. It seems to me that these ochres, these histories, and these artists/foragers/writers have something important to transmit through this series of three -- to me, each other, and to you. And so, welcome to Part One! Thank you for receiving, if you do. Take it away, Kelly!

fields on occaneechi lands by kelly moody

I gathered Occaneechi Shimmer, a mica-rich red pigment on the shores of the Roanoke River, in what is now south-central Virginia. The river runs from the mountains towards the ocean, and the Staunton and Dan Rivers join at some point along the path. The river passes through the Piedmont foothills of the Southern Appalachia on the way through, picking up silt and sediment. Near where this pigment was gathered, a dam was built that transformed the river which once regularly flooded its banks into neighboring low lying areas. Now, it's a big lake with 500 miles of coastline. This lake regulates another lake with a smaller dam just downstream, and the rising and falling of the lake has created a shoreline with the exposed bright orange and red clay characteristic of this area, mixed in with layers of mica, occasional quartz, and also pure sand. When the water is low, one can walk along this shore on sand then suddenly feel the thick squish of clay underfoot.

This land belongs to the Siouan-speaking Occaneechi tribe who lived on an island in the Roanoke River where the confluence of other rivers met, a strategic location for trade with other tribes north, south, east and west. Folks maybe have remotely heard of a terrible event called Bacon's Rebellion, which was an armed uprising of white settlers of all classes along with enslaved and free blacks led by Nathaniel Bacon against the Occaneechi in the 1670's. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the events myself, but Nathaniel Bacon and his followers were upset by the control of the elite, who wanted to divide the alliances that had formed between lower class white and blacks because they were scared of those alliances. Through a series of events, Bacon and others became upset and wanted to revolt against the Governor at the time, William Berkeley.

To revolt against Berkeley, and to push back the local native folks so they could have their land, as well as for a few other reasons, Bacon and his followers marched towards the village of Occaneechi on the Roanoke River, and massacred the tribe. Those that survived fled after the event to find shelter with other tribes nearby. After that, the tribe had to move around a few times, was given land and then had it taken away, given recognition and then not.

The Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation is now is one of the smallest tribes in the Southeast, mainly living in North Carolina, but also found in other parts of the east. The tribe is officially recognized by the state of North Carolina but as far as I can see, is not federally recognized, as is common for many tribes out east.

The dam put in on the Roanoke River in the last century was a further erasure of the history of that place. The dam flooded many village sites and artifacts, some dating back to the Clovis peoples of many thousands of years ago (how old is still being debated today, but the reality is that Indigenous folks have been here way longer than archaeologists and scientists have surmised in the past). Some of the artifacts were excavated before the dam was put in and saved, but at the time, archaeological surveys were not required like they are today, and much is now underwater.

Older white farmers in the area still find old tools and arrowheads in their tobacco fields in the area today, and have private collections, or have donated them to local museums or the state park and museum that now exists along the shores of the Roanoke where the island use to be. Many of the arrowheads are opaque or crystal clear due to the high concentration of quartz crystals in the area. The tribe is often involved in events at the state park which is named after them.

I grew up here, and my family is a part of the destructive legacy of white settlers on this landscape, having been in the area for five or six generations.

There is so much complexity to Virginia's history on the whole that I could not unpack here in a few words, nor do I even know or understand everything that happened, but what I do know is that Virginia was at the heart of plantation culture. Its land was used to grow cash crops like tobacco, which was traded all over, and the enslavement of blacks and sometimes poor whites was commonplace. Sharecropping, which was just another form of slavery, or indentured-ness, continued after slavery supposedly ended. I'm 33 years old, and I still witnessed sharecropping in the 1990's as a child growing up going to my grandparents' farm. Things have not been quick to change here, but one thing is certain, farming in the way it has been done since the first white settlers came here is no longer possible economically.

Though I've been mostly living as a nomad in the western so-called U.S. for the past few years, I routinely come back to Virginia to my hometown and try to spend time, though it can be culturally difficult. I do not know everything that is happening here and regionally, but I make observations of what is changing politically and culturally. Much of these remnant 'plantation farms' are being abandoned, or the families who still own them live elsewhere and keep the land there but un-used because they are not sure what to do with it now. This area is too far from any city to be developed into suburbs so the land is being reclaimed in many places by Kudzu, Poison Ivy, Virginia Creeper, Eastern Red Cedar, Japanese Honeysuckle, Pokeweed and Wild Persimmon among many other succession plants. There's still mono-crop farming and tree plantations happening but not to the extent that it was. There's an opportunity right now for white landowners who have inherited land that was stolen to re-think and shift how they use or own their land.

There's a lot of work to do, but I can't help but to see the vines and trees coming up through old tobacco barns as a sign of the 'tearing down' of the old. Landowners here could easily give up some land to tribes that have hardly none, as most tribes in the Southeast don't have reservations or land of their own. Or, land could be given or freely leased to farmers of color who want to grow food here. Trying to actually talk to the Baby Boomer generation about that here, or discuss collective food justice models, I am frustrated by the lack of openness to something new and different. Even just growing food organically seems like a far-fetched idea to many.

The soil here is unique and telling. Places that have been over-farmed for hundreds of years are tired, and the soil almost looks white like sand, and is so compacted that barely a footprint can be made. The nutrients easily leach out of this erodible soil remnant of ancient worn-down mountains and often a sandy composite is left. The red clay is the other side of this, not nutrient rich, but thick, clumpy and oxygen-poor. To farm here, often people have to pour many artificial fertilizers in the soil to prop up a failing toxic culture. The inability to farm cash crops here is now a kind of blessing that might allow the soil to recover, but my hope is that what comes next won't be parking lots, strip malls, factories, data centers owned by tech companies who want to take advantage of the cheap taxes, or giant solar arrays that cover the land and do not help anyone locally--- but a new way of sharing land, growing food and land-tending equity. There are folks working on this in Virginia, but Virginia is stubborn and obsessed with being attached to its terrible colonialist past masqueraded as 'heritage', even to the point that white folks are still attached to the confederate statues in Richmond, VA that overwhelmingly need to come down.

The 'Occaneechi Shimmer' pigment is made from the red clay of this place, which has seen so much suffering but still holds its bright resilience and vibrancy despite. And the shores of the river where this pigment was gathered still hosts important plants like Paw Paws, Sweet Gum, River Birch, Persimmon, Sycamore and even American Elm. The waters still run murky when it rains hard, catching the clay and mixing it in as it rushes towards the Albemarle Sound and then the Atlantic Ocean.

reparations & #landback by simone johnson

My name is Simone Johnson and I am currently a Reparations Researcher at Culture Push, an organization located in Lenapehoking, specifically NYC. Although it's been five months since I started, I feel like I am still in the very beginning stages of forming research questions and research overall. I am specifically interested in the connections between reparations and birthwork, reproductive health and justice, and family constellations. Right now I am working on a timeline "to make the case" for reparations, through a storytelling project, and have been in weekly conversations with the Culture Push team. Every week we have parsed through the complexity of reparations and as I told them before, processing reparations takes a lot of mental and emotional energy, and that grappling with violent histories and violent todays steeped in a deep psychology and spiritual crisis requires we take care of ourselves as we move through the learning and processing journey (i.e. making sure we are eating, drinking water, taking breaks, taking care of our nervous systems ect).

Before I go on I do have to name that many of us grew up in educational systems where history was watered down and white-washed. I barely learned about the truth of the Atlantic Slave Trade and African-American contributions to space exploration, science, medicine, agriculture, Southern cuisine, music and so much more, let alone anything about Indigenous histories on Turtle Island. In elementary school I do remember doing a performance as Sorjourner Truth and a book report on Goyathlay, also known as Geronimo. Luckily, I feel over the years education has changed a lot, and more and more educators are uplifting the stories and perspectives that have been lost, erased, buried, misrepresented and co-opted.

I think when many people hear the words white supremacy, it rubs them the wrong way, but that's been a global reality for hundreds of years. We are coming out of a history of tv and film being white (and misrepresenting other peoples), all the dolls in a store aisle being white and ads mostly of white people depicting what beauty standards are acceptable and better. Art, science, design, technology, education, agriculture and more, are all experiencing emerging liberation from the story of 'only white people can desire, dream, imagine, design, make decisions, lead, tell stories, build, create, express. . .'

In almost all areas of life we are coming out of dominant eurocentric views and approaches and connecting to the divine reality that other people exist, and have always existed, and have different cultures, lifeways, aesthetics and beliefs other than the eurocentric views and western ways of thinking positioned as dominant, better and logical, pushed onto a person as soon as they enter school.

It's obvious that education has played a huge role in how people come to understand themselves, others and the planet, and even why things are the way they are today. But I don't think many people realize that there's people from all walks of life (including me) who just don't know about xyz because they were never taught at home or at school. I wonder what it would be like if the collective conscious paused -- and reflected on how past educational or learning experiences across different generations are directly tied to awareness and understanding of Reparations and #LandBack today? Honestly, the clarity and healing that could occur as we continue to release ourselves from a very harmful (now dying?) white supremacist education system that ultimately is an illusion, and is preventing so so much. I recognize that it is up to me now to learn what I did not learn, to seek out what was kept from me, and to find ways to tap into what I don't know I don't know.

I recognized early on that the timeline I am creating for my reparations research has to include the history and contemporary realities of Indigenous tribes across Turtle Island. I told Tilke that for me, I feel a dissonance if settler colonialism (which I am still learning about) is not processed alongside the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade and vice versa. I feel both are a part of a colonial process that is being addressed by #LandBack and calls for Reparations.

I love seeing Black and Indigenous solidarity -- it makes my heart happy. I'll also be honest and say, I wish there could be more intersectional conversations on Land Back and Reparations, especially because a core part of each is land and land/water stewardship. And land isn't just land. For many and to myself, land is God, land is a connection to Spirit. Land is where you connect with other earthlings, where you can put your hands in a nearby stream or river, where we can grow food or herd animals, where we can save seeds, where we can create a home. Land is an umbilical cord, and even with the legacy of colonization impacting the physical land itself, it is still an umbilical cord to spiritual, physical, emotional and mental nourishment for the community, (chosen) family and self.

I would love to see more weaving of Indigenous Futurisms and Afrofuturism. I would love to see this kind of convergence space intentionally around land and water stewardship. I would love to see more simultaneous acknowledgment and support for both, while remembering and holding that each movement has different needs and wants. Navigating all of this isn't easy.

As folks of different Indigenous identities and descendants of enslaved Africans in this country articulate what their movements mean, what they want, and what healing means for them, European-descended folks or white people also have a role in traversing and investigating the time continuum, and world-making around #LandBack and Reparations. A significant part of these movements, which are nuanced and complex respectively, includes people of European descent helping shape the future by, for example returning land and supporting #LandBack, advocating for *both* Reparations and #Landback on the local, state and federal levels and supporting and/or starting a local Reparations effort. One way to start is taking a period of time to research these generational movements and see what other European-descended folks are talking about and doing. Tap into the voices and work of people with Black and Indigenous identities by reading books or articles, watching video clips on Youtube or listening to podcasts. There are so many conversations and work going on to connect with and support.

Finally, what a time what a time to be in, sandwiched between such a historical inheritance and a wide open future full of possibilities; the exhale of authentic repair, the breath of genuine healing, especially at the root, kinship that feeds the soul, joy, joy joy and so much more. It won't be comfortable or easy and I accept that.

I don't have any answers, just thoughts and ideas. I have a lot of learning to do.

*Simone Johnson. Photo courtesy of Simone Johnson.*

thanks & other excitements

So much behind the words shared here! Huge thanks to Kelly and Simone for taking the time to tap them out and to air things that aren't easy to delve for. And thanks of course to all you dedicated Ground Bright subscribers who close the circle on these arcs of relationship-building and repair enacted by all involved in this project.

Ok, so: the Auction! It's happening! This newsletter has been long so here's the impetus to stoke your enthusiasm for the up-coming auction, which will raise monies for the Wild Pigment Project Equitable Scholarship Fund. Two pics, below: gorgeous hand-carved paint pots and paint donated by Carrie LaChance (who many of us know as @mmmordere) and a dreamy handmade cloth sack filled with SIX luscious floral lake pigments crafted by lake-master Ashlee Weitlauf. Get your bids ready for this May!

Are you a pigment practitioner who would like to donate a pigment/s to the auction? Let's talk. Write to me at info@wildpigmentproject.org.

Did this newsletter move you? Do you have thoughts you'd like to share with me? I really get happy when I see your emails in my little mail box. Same email.

Stay Attuned,

<3 Tilke

newsletter archive

pied midden: issue no.19 : three parts red dirt: part one: kelly moody & simone johnson