In June 2018, Weaving Southwest gifted me 20 skeins of their white and light grey Navajo Churro yarn to natural dye with while attending Fiber Camp at Small Acre Farm in Fort Collins, CO in early June 2018. That experience jumpstarted my dye practice and inspired Lily and I to start our own Natural Dye Kitchen. As a way of processing the Fiber Camp experience, I will write articles about dyeing with Madder, Indigo, and Cochineal, which will include Information from Rachel Brown’s Weaving, Spinning, and Dyeing book, a brief description of the dye results, and a descriptive vignette of what that dyestuff taught me. I hope this gets you thinking of how you can use Weaving Southwest white and light grey Navajo Churro yarn in your own natural dyeing practice.
In the Weaving, Spinning, and Dyeing book, Rachel Brown succinctly summarizes the history and cultivation of Madder,
“Madder became the most common red dyestuff and was extensively used because of its beautiful rose-red color, its great fastness, and its availability. The plant from which it came, Rubia tinctorum, was cultivated for centuries by the Egyptians and East Indians, and later on by Europeans. There are thirty-five different species of madder. Its long thin roots, measuring about one-quarter to one-half inch in diameter, are used for the dye. It takes up to three years for the roots to reach their best quality. At this time they are harvested and pounded into a pulp.” (pg. 248)
Madder dye pot solar dyeing
Our madder dye process ended up creating a couple hues of vibrant, earthy orange. For our madder dye bath, we used dried madder, which was heated for thirty minutes just below a simmer in a stainless steel pot. Once the thirty minutes were up, we placed the dye bath inside to sit overnight. The next day we warmed up the dye pot over medium heat, strained out the madder root sediment, and then got to dyeing. We dropped four skeins of mordanted yarn (two white and two light grey) into the dye bath and some other cloth. We let the dye pot sit in the sun to solar dye for a few hours. Later in the afternoon, we pulled the skeins out, rinsed the yarn four times, and let the skeins dry in the sun. With one madder dye bath, the light grey Navajo Churro yarn (on the right in the photo below) was dyed an incredibly dark, earthy orange, and the white yarn (on the left in the photo below) ended up dyed a dusty, bright orange.
White (L) and light grey (R) one dip madder dye
After seeing the results, I was curious to find out what would happen if we dipped one light grey and one white skein in the dye bath for another dye. After pulling out all the fiber, we refreshed the madder dye pot with some new dried madder and let it sit over night. The next day we warmed the pot, strained the madder sediment, and placed two of the madder dyed skeins back in the dye pot. The extra dip produced an even more dramatic dark orange on the light grey yarn (right) and a stronger vibrant orange on the white yarn (left).
White (L) and light grey (R) two dip madder dye
It’s most useful to look at the skeins next to one another. The top row is the white (left) and light grey (right) madder-dyed Navajo Churro yarn, which had been dipped once in the dye bath. The bottom row is the white (left) and light grey (right) madder-dyed Navajo Churro yarn, which was dipped in the dye bath twice. Look at the subtle differences between have been dyed once and twice. Both are really striking colors.
Madder dye comparison
“It (the color) reminds me of the color of red earth,” Rebekah, our natural dye instructor, said, as I showed her the madder root-dyed Navajo Churro skeins after they had dried.
I looked at the skeins, smiled, and replied, “It totally does.”
With those nine works, Rebekah had reoriented how I had looked at those skeins. With nothing but naive expectation, I figured we would get red with the madder. Like most people nowadays, I was feeling a bit let down about not getting what I expected—about getting these deep vibrant oranges when I was hoping for reds. Rebekah’s words shook me so deeply. The simple truth of the beauty of the orange hues was so easy to see, but I was lost looking for apples when the world handed me oranges. That is one of the simple beauties of natural dyeing; to learn again and again to accept the beauty of that which is beyond our control which is placed in our lap by happenstance.
This lesson is no mere trite cultural aphorism to me. It is an important life lesson. I know what its like to get stuck trying to control that which is bigger than me to avoid pain and discomfort. If I only study enough, I won’t fail and end up back in that small rust belt city I grew up in. If I stay positive, I can will my mom to survive stage four cancer. What I have had to learn again and again is that all these things are beyond my control; I will never be perfect and be able to prevent bad things from happening. Learning to truly see this deep orange skein of yarn is not unlike learning to see the beauty of my own deeply human life—full of imperfection, sadness, and happy accidents.
What would happen if we just gave ourselves that little bit of slack to be content with our weaving or handspinning and let go of our expectations for my work? After natural dyeing at fiber camp, I carried the intention to try and let go of control in the other parts of my practice. Gradually, I experienced this expansive sense of gentleness and contentment float into my outlook on my practice, and I saw new beauty in what I already produce. I found myself unstuck from trying to move on from how I currently spin and weave to bigger and better tools. I looked at my imperfect, factory-made Navajo spindle and was just grateful for the calming and centering influence it has in my life. I picked up a tiny tapestry loom and felt my joy, curiosity, and accomplishment beaming out of the wood. These weren’t the ways that I expected myself to work now, but they still retained a deep significance and beauty—just like those orange skeins of madder-dyed Navajo Churro yarn.