Natural Dyeing Workshop

Over the weekend, I dyed. Turned blue and everything. It was awesome.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine sent me info about a natural dyeing workshop run by Neil Goss of Live and Dye Naturally, which I drooled over. The timing was going to be tricky with family vacation, but not impossible.

I almost didn't go, because I was still recovering from jet lag, and waging war on the flea infestation in my apartment (there was screaming. Maybe a little crying. It was a lot to deal with upon arriving home at 4 in the morning on a work day, okay?), and jittering a little bit about introducing my boyfriend to my sister that evening. Also, I was a little broke after snapping up a stunning leather-bound Qur'an from my favorite bookstore. These things happen.

Luckily, I have fabulous, generous friends, and so go I did, and we turned a pile of yarn and fabric into a literal, brilliant rainbow. Well...she did. I just made blue.

Sopping wet, deep-blue yarn ddraped over a clothesline, with similarly blue fabrics swaying in the breeze along the line behind the yarn. It's a bright, sunny day.
That yarn is actually not felted. Really. It's faking it.
I had a skein of cotton, and a skein of alpaca 70% yak down/30% bamboo. Uh. Interesting. I thought it was alpaca. That explains why it wasn't much bothered by the accidental half-dunk in a hot bath during the pre-wetting stage. (Don't dye tired, kids.) The cotton is more straightforward, although since it was reclaimed from a sweater, it turned into a perfect imitation of cheap ramen noodles when it hit the water.

Things I learned:

• Indigo dye baths are gorgeous. Did I get a photo? No. My phone was dying. Imagine a stock pot like what you make spaghetti in, mostly full of yellow-green liquid with a floating iridescent layer of blue-purple-copper. Um...it's prettier than it sounds. Maybe don't imagine the spaghetti. Better?
• You can just lop down an entire coreopsis plant or two and chuck them in a pot, and you'll get this stunning rich honey color (spring honey, not fall).
• I need to revise my understanding of natural colors. They're brighter, deeper, and more consistent than I had thought or seen before.

Several skeins of extremely fine yarn, laid out parallel in a sort of rainbow, from bright pink-red at the top to berry-purple, deep-bue, loden-green shifting to blue and greyish, and gold to shell-pink.
Droooooooooooool.
As evidence, here's Carla's rainbow in all its glory. From top to bottom:

• cochineal on pale tan silk
• cochineal with an iron mordant on white silk
• indigo (twice; they're stacked on top of each other) on white silk
• (clockwise from top left) coreopsis, weld, and light indigo overdye on pale green silk
• (clockwise from top left) coreopsis, weld, tiny section of undyed, and sumac (and back to coreopsis) on pale pink silk

She weaves these gorgeous, wild, itty-bitty-teeny-tiny-detailed wall hangings (among other things), and I cannot wait to see what these grow up to be. Check out some of her past work at Lapin Textiles.

My two skeins need reskeining—especially the cotton—so glamour shots will have to wait. Go back and look at that silk some more.

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