community of dyers

I've just read a book I'm very enthusiastic about, Rita Buchanan's A Weaver's Garden: Growing Plants for Natural Dyes and Fibers. The copy I have here is the hardcover 1987 edition from Interweave Press, but the topic has not changed in twenty-two years, so it is not in any way out-of-date. There's now a 1999 paperback edition available from Dover Books.

There are six chapters: Plant fibers for spinning and stuffing; Dyes from plants; Soap plants for cleaning textiles; Fragrant plants to scent and protect textiles; Plant materials used to make textile tools; and Creating a garden. The first chapter goes into just about every plant fiber you might have access to, and it tells in detail how to grow and process many of these plants. The author writes, from experience, that it takes a patch of garden at least twenty feet square to grow enough cotton to spin and weave a shirt, while a patch fifteen feet square will grow a similar quantity of flax. Many other plants and their cultivation are described, along with a great many facts that will be of interest to anyone who cares about fiber. I had no idea that sisal fiber was produced by an agave plant (a plant type we know mainly because of tequila), or (to take a wildly different anecdote) that German military uniforms used to be made from stinging nettles. In addition to all of her fascinating anecdotes, the author has a deep understanding of the chemistry of plant fibers and is able to explain why procedures are done the way they are.

The chapter on dyeing is more informative than some entire books I've read about natural dyes. The author concentrates on those dye plants that really work well. She makes a point of distinguishing good dye plants from closely related species that lack the dye. She even has information that I have seen nowhere else on the toxicity of some natural dyes. For example,

Many commonly recommended dye plants are poisonous. Here's a good example. Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) is a native wildflower with a swollen rhizome full of bright red sap. Indians used it as a body paint, and since colonial days, dyers have tried to capture that pigment on textiles. Actually, I've never gotten more than a rusty red or a dull orange from bloodroot, but that isn't the problem. The bright-colored sap is nature's way of saying "Keep Away". It is quite toxic if ingested, causing vomiting, dizziness, nerve damage, and even death. No dyer is going to eat bloodroot; it tastes awful, anyway. Originally, I didn't worry about these things. Then I dyed some wool fleece with bloodroot, rinsed it carefully, and let it dry. Days later I began to card it for spinning. Within seconds, my nose and throat were inflamed, my face got red, and my head felt like it was going to burst. I stumbled into the next room and got out my book on poisonous plants and read, "Bloodroot sap is a potent irritant of the moist membranes...[it] causes almost immediate irritation." I had inhaled bits of dried sap that came off the fibers in the carding process! I was miserable for hours. If it happened to me, it could happen to you.

Bloodroot is just one of several plants to beware of. Many books recommend these plant materials for dyeing: lily of the valley leaves (Convallaria majalis), rhododendron and azalea leaves, privet hedge trimmings (Ligustrum vulgare), yellow flag iris rhizomes (Iris pseudacorus), and larkspur or delphinum flowers. These are all poisonous if taken internally. I'll admit that I've collected and used them all anyway; but it turns out that none are remarkable dye plants. So I advise you not to mess with them. Why take chances?

There is a wealth of other practical information on dye plants.

The chapter on soap plants discusses a variety of plant sources of soap-like materials, which are gentler than true soaps or detergents for cleaning delicate textiles. It's interesting to note, as Buchanan does, that although soap making has been known since ancient times, in Europe and North America soap has been popular for laundry and bathing for less than three hundred years.

In October someone posted here wanting to put scent into the yarn of naturally-dyed textiles. The use of artificial perfumes to provide long-lasting penetrating scents to textiles is disturbing, but the use of pleasantly scented natural materials to repel moths (and to cover up the horrible scents of the cleaning materials used before soap was popular) is not so disturbing, and very traditional. Of course the scents will inevitably wash away quickly.

I have no plans to take up spinning or weaving at any time in the near future, but the information in A Weaver's Garden is useful and fascinating nonetheless. I strongly recommend it. Although it's not a new book, it is still in print, and used copies are also available.

-Paula