Rocks Rock! Experiments with local Pigment Colours

Rocks are so cool. In case you hadn't noticed.
More on that later! First, a bit of background...

When I was in Japan studying katazome, I was introduced to dyeing paper (and sometimes fabric) using 'ganryo' pigments.

"Ganryo" just means colourant, it is the colour in powdered form without any binder. (Though it can be sold in the form of paint-pans or solid sticks). It can be a naturally occuring colourant, like yellow ocher (ohdo) calcium carbonate (gohfun), cinnabar (ginshu which is natural but ironically, toxic!) indigo (ai), ultramarine (gunjoh) or iron oxide (bengara) etc etc. They can also be chemically altered versions of these (to produce whitened tones etc) or just straight up synthetic pigments (basically a chalk substrate dyed different, sometimes nasty colours)

A small portion of my collection of commercially available Ganryo pigments. The ones in stick form are already mixed with a binder.

Pigments are also used in Nihonga (Japanese-style Painting) but they are slightly more complicated - see my older post all about it, and painting broccoli, here.

That one time, when I spent 5 days painting a broccoli portrait in Japanese pigments...

As I was saying, pigments are also used in combination with the katazome technique. Most famously, rich pigment colours are used in the Okinawan Bingata technique (similar to katazome - see more here) and I suspect that's why they are in the katazome repertoire in the first place. In both cases, the powdered pigment is mixed with a binder - soymilk - to create a thick paint-like liquid. These can then be applied to the fabric or washi being dyed in the same manner as dyes (with a stiff bristled brush, from the front side).

Mixing commercial pigments with soymilk to a painty consistency.

Some bits and pieces I dyed on washi (kozo paper) using commercial pigments and the katazome technique. 

Just to point out that pigments have different characteristics to dyes, it might be important to remember:
A DYE is colourant dissolved in liquid which grabs onto a fibre - it really gets into the fabric and you faciliate a chemical reaction (with steam or an alkali etc to ensure that it links sucessfully and stays on that fibre).
A PIGMENT, on the other hand, is insoluble and the particles sit on the fabric, rather than seep into the fibres. They are matte finish and can appear to look more like paint.
Bingata technique utilises this unique difference by dyeing colours first (transparent colours, which grip the fibres) then adding details on top in pigment colours (matte colours that sit on top of the fibres. This step is called "kuma-doi" lit. adding shadows). This creates a sense of depth which can't be achieved by using only layers of dye.

a detail of a bingata pattern on cotton cloth from the 19th Century. You might be able to see the heavy red pigments in the centre of the petals creating depth, versus the translucent blue dye of the background.

ANYWAY!

Having known that pigments can be used with the katazome technique and having played around with them in a short Nihonga course, I wondered if I could make my own, Australian pigment colours. Canberra is well known for "Canberra Red Bricks", churned out here from 1913 to the 1970's, so I knew that at the very least there would be a clay around here that I could use for pigment.

Rewind a bit to last September.

sketching with dirt and a lump of charcoal,
September 2017

As one of four artists chosen to take part in Craft ACT's inaugural 'Spring Tidbinbilla Residency", I spent time out at Tidbinbilla Nature Reserve, sketching, hiking and photographing. During a hike back down from Gibraltar Peak, I stopped to sketch the view of the mountains. I had found a pinch of some clay-ish dirt up the track and little and wanted to try using it as paint. Nearby where I'd sat to draw I also found some burnt tree stump and it worked perfectly as a charcoal.
This simple drawing sparked an obsession.


Fast forward and I've collected 100 Natural Pigments and counting.

a growing collection of local pigment colours.

Since February this year, I have been keeping my eyes on the ground. In non-descript walking paths and parks, along rivers, on the tops of hills and some trips to beaches, I've found colours in rocks, dirt, shells, ash and charcoal.

Mostly, I've smashed, sifted, ground, re-sifted and re-ground rocks to get these colours. Some rocks give themselves up easily, crumbling after one strike. Others are like trying to shatter steel.

smashing up rocks - this one gave itself up easily.

after sifting and grinding.

I've been sort of playing at faux-Geologist. Mostly I've been smashing and seeing what happens. I've also been trying to understand which rocks are found where by using these visually stunning but scientifically overwhelming Geological maps.

beautiful but cryptic Geological Map from Geosicence Australia

WOOO! Rocks!

The most exciting part of this whole experiment has been to do what I first intended - use these colours I've collected as pigments for katazome. The chance for this arose when an exhibition was borne of Craft ACT Spring Residency at Tidbinilla last September. The show wrapped up this past weekend at the Tuggeranong Arts Centre in Canberra. The work all came together beautifully, without intending to, all four of us artists used complementary textures, colours, as well as references to stones and foliage. Narelle Phillips at the Tuggeranong Arts Centre did an excellent job of curation and organising everything.

Traversing Tidbinbilla, Tuggeranong Arts Centre July 6-28, 2018. To the right is work by fellow artist Sally Mumford.

Here are a few close ups of the work I exhibited. You'll see works on paper - these are all made with my pigments mixed with soymilk, applied to kozo washi. I also tried the pigments on different weights of silk, in an installation piece depicting Eucalyptus Cinerea foliage. Finally, I wanted to display my vials of pigment in the manner of a old fashioned museum, you can see this in the wooden box in the pictures.

Foliage Series, 2018. Katazome on washi using local pigments. 38 x 40cm

Left to Right, 'Welcome Swallow', 'Eastern Yellow Robin' & 'Grey Shrike-thrush' 2018. Katazome on washi using local pigments. each 25 x 31cm

Flame Robin (Male) 2018

In all these works on paper, I selected ground pigments from what I had collected, mixing them with soymilk in small mortars. I didn't really mix different colours together, just used what I had as is or layering one colour over another. Charcoal from found burnt logs was good for giving strong blacks. The hardest colours to represent were a vivid yellow and red for the Flame robin and the Eastern Yellow Robin. In real life, the breast feathers of these birds are nearly fluorescent. I had to settle for earthier versions.

Cinerea Breeze. 2018. Katazome and earth pigments on silk. The cottage we stayed at out at Tidbinbilla during the residency is called Cinerea Cottage, so this piece has extra meaning :)

Floaty detail of Cinerea Breeze. The foliage is dyed using pigments and the background beige and orange tones were dyed in a natural dye bath of Eucalyptus Cinerea leaves. 

Lastly, here's my (Tiny) Museum of Natural Pigments. I love that colours which seemed so ordinary and similar when I spotted them, appear completely different when crushed and lined up next to each other. Many of these were successful as pigments to dye paper but a lot of them were too gritty or crystal-y to be an effective colourant. Still, they are pretty as a powder amongst their fellows.

*I'd like to make clear that I have only taken small amounts of colour from locations that aren't national park or designated nature reserves. I definitely didn't take from spots where it would damage the area. I know there will be some people who will take issue with me having done this. I have tried to honour the spirit of nature and her beauty through these works. If I'm found to have done something wrong, I'm sure I will hear about it...*

In an exciting development, this exhibition will now travel to be exhibited in the gallery at the Tidbinbilla Visitors Centre, from Friday August 3rd until the 14th of October 2018! It will be great to see the works so close to the location that inspired them and I hope lots of interstate and international visitors get to see them too.

The next step in this Pigment adventure is looking further afield for different colours that aren't present in the ACT and also, trying to make pigment colours from natural dye baths - as 'lake pigments'. This a science-y process that I haven't had much luck with yet (though admittedly, I haven't tried very hard yet!). Watch this space!

Bird-calls and Colours Across Cultures 鳴き声や色＋言語と文化

I've written very briefly before on how birds are given different names in Japanese and often kanji characters as well. Well, it's not just the names we give to birds that differs across languages, it's also the birds' language itself; their vocalisations. This was brought back to mind when I found a lovely picture book in the Kyoto Seika library today illustrating the different calls of Japanese birds.
海外の鳥でも漢字の名前があると前に軽く書きました。でも、言語によって変わるのは鳥名だけではなくて、鳥の鳴き声も変わりますね。当たり前なことかもしれないけれども、今間図書館で鳥の鳴き声の絵本を見つけたら、改めて面白いと思いました。

Perhaps the most well known bird call in Japan is that of the Japanese bush warbler, uguisu in Japanese. This little harbinger of spring cries 'ho-hokekkyo'. I had learnt this in a class before ever hearing the real thing and on comparing the two...well, it required some mental aerobics.
日本では一番よく知られている鳴き声はウグイスではないでしょうか？春に「ホーホケキョ」という独特な鳴き声をしますね。初めて本物を聞いた時は、「うーん、ホーホケキョのかな？」と疑問に思ったけれども！

♪♪HO-HokKEKYo!!!♪♪♪ホーホケキョ!♪

Other birdcalls in the book I was leafing through today include:
* the black Kite (tonbi)  English "shrill whistle" or "whinnying call" becomes (ready for this?!) "pi-hyororororo…"
* a Japanese robin (komadori) cries "hinkarararara"
* a Japanese Paradise flycatcher (sankoucho), get this, chirps "tsukihihoshi-hoi-hoi-hoi"!
and one last one,
* the brown-headed thrush sings "kyoron, kyoron, chiriri"

その絵本にこういう面白い鳴き声もありました:
* トンビの「ピーヒョロロロ」
* コマドリの「ヒンカラカラララ」
* サンコウチョウの (これが一番面白いかな！？) 「月日星ホイホイホイ」
*アカハラの「キョロンキョロン、チリリリ」

♪Tsukihihoshi-hoi-hoi-hoi!!!♪♪♪ツキヒホシ、ホイホイホイ♪♪

I suppose in English it's just as difficult. In bird identification books you often read equally abstract descriptions such as "a high pitched pink-pink" or "abrupt, guttural screeches".確かに英語にも鳥の鳴き声を言葉に表現するのが難しいですね。鳥類本には「低いスクリースクリー」とか、「高調子のピンッピンッ」という曖昧な説明をよく見ます。

♪♪pink-pink-pink!♪♪♪♪ピンッピンッ♪♪

Even among Australian-English speakers, there's huge variations in how someone describes the scream of a Cockatoo, for example, so it's no wonder it differs across languages and oceans. It makes sense that someone with a different linguistic background and different set of sounds in their alphabet would put a sound down in language in a different way. I wonder what birds call in something like French?!オーストラリア英語をしゃべる人の中でも、例えば、オウムの鳴き声を色んな言葉で表現します。そう考えたら、違う言語又は違う国では鳥の鳴き声を違う言葉で書くのは当たり前ですね。もちろん、音を自分が慣れている母国語で表します。フランスなどの鳥は何の鳴き声かとは気になりますね。

Japanese colours...いわえる「日本の色」

I had also been pondering this question of language in terms of colour names. I was given a book recently on "Japanese colours". The book has pages upon glossy pages of colour swatches and gives their names in Japanese (mainly in kanji) and then gives some history of why this name came into use. It's probably just because I am looking in from the outside, but these kanji names are often whimsical and beautiful. 

For example 京都紫　Kyoto Purple, 小豆色　Red-bean paste, 金茶色 golden tea/golden brown, 鶯色 Japanese warbler green... (ho-hokkekyo anyone?)

この言語の問題も「色名」にもかかわっていると思いました。
最近、「日本の色」という本を貰いました。ツルツルのページに色のサンプルがぎっしり並んでいて、漢字での名前とその色の歴史も書いてあります。
漢字は自分の文化にはないからかもしれないですが、色の漢字名がとても美しくて魅力的だと思いました。
例えば、京都紫、小豆色、金茶、鶯色 (ホーホケキョだね) など。

LtoR: Kyoto Purple, Red-bean, Golden Tea, Uguisu　左から京都紫、小豆色、金茶、鶯色 

I have some hesitations when Japanese people proudly tell me about "Japanese colours" as if they are something unique borne of Japanese culture. Colours are colours, just a result of reflected light hitting a certain wavelength. So-called Japanese colours are just those that have, for various reasons, been favoured in Japanese culture.　いわゆる「日本の色」についてちょっと疑問を持っています。日本の文化から生まれた独特なものだという自慢しているように言われると、うーん、そうなん？って思います。
色って、ただ色です。太陽による理化学的な現象だけです。その中に、何かの理由で昔から日本人にただ好まれて来たものは「日本の色」だというのではないか？

colours are just science. who's to say this isn't Uluru, Eucalyptus Green and Wattle Yellow?
色は理化学から生まれた物です。これをオーストラリア的な名前でも呼べるでしょう？
ウルル色、ユーカリ緑、アカシア黄色(オーストラリアの代表花)などは？

is it an earthen wall or ready for tea dunking?　
これは「生壁」? それとも  「クッキー」?

Given the same colour-swatch, an English painter, for example, would no doubt have his own name to describe that particular shade. In fact, this painter might even give a name for that colour that comes from such a different angle that it's laughable. How about "生壁色　freshly rendered earthen wall" being turned into something like "biscuit"?　日本の色のサンプルを見たら、例えば、イギリス人の絵師は違う名前で表現するでしょう。それに、イギリス人が使う色名は、おかしいほど全く違う歴史や意味を持つ場合が多いと思います日本の文化に根している「生壁色」は英語でBiscuit(クッキーの意味)というですし。

Despite being almost the exact same shade, see the linguistic chasms between "young bamboo green" and "parrot green" or "Japanese mugwort" and "olive" or even more simply put, "tea" and "coffee"? Isn't colour an interesting way that cultures overlap and then shear away from each other?
殆ど同じ色なのに、二つの言語で違う言葉があって、その言葉の由来は違うのは面白いと思います。「若竹色」は「インコグリーン」に近い、「よもぎ」は「オリーブ」で表現できるでしょう。代表例として、「茶色」は「コーヒー」とよく言い表します！

I sat in on a lecture last year by the widow of a famous Japanese painter who made his work using oil paints (introduced to Japan). She raised an interesting point that a pigment colour is the same, whether it is mixed with oil to make oil paint, a binder to make acrylics, powdered to form water colours or mixed with animal glue to form Japanese 'iwaenogu' pigments.
We are all making artwork with the same set of colours, just utilising them in different applications and, as you can now see, with different names.
去年、日本画の作家さんによる講演を見に行ったとき、絵の具についての面白かったことが頭に残っています。それは、油と混ぜて油絵にしても、膠と混ぜて岩絵の具にしても、バインダーと混ぜてアクリル絵の具にしても、豆汁と混ぜて染色用顔料にしても、その原料の「色」は一緒ということです。色んな国で、違う使い方で用いながら、違う名前で表現しながら、同じ色を使っています。

The names for these birds, colours and birdcalls are just differing references based on our own cultural and linguistic backgrounds. And they are all the richer for them.　鳥名、色名、鳴き声は、文化や言語に基づいて異なっているけれども、それこそ豊な世界ではないかと思っています。