Tip Toe Through the Forest - Earth Pigment Journey Vol. I
I’m not an expert on earth pigments. Actually, that’s not even my goal. But something is pulling me toward thoughtfully exploring natural earth pigments. Since this exploration will be slow and woven into my creative journey, I thought I could share it with you – woven over time – in my journal. What a perfect time to log my first journal entry on this subject – earth day. This is the beginning. What will unfold is yet to come….
I began wondering why I wanted to do this, how it connected to me, and what it would mean to my art. So, I started with the “5 times why” exercise. (If you haven’t tried it, I highly recommend it). Here’s how I answered my 5 “why” questions to myself:
Why do I want to experiment with earth pigments?
Because when I saw the process of making pigment from rocks, something pulled me to it.
Why am I pulled to it?
Because it seems fun to grind up rocks into pigment.
Why does it seem fun to grind up rocks into pigment?
Many things seem fun about it…the satisfaction of breaking rocks, the sifting, the mulling, even the sounds. I suppose the most appealing thing is creating something new, giving new purpose and life to something from nature.
Why do I want my artistic practice to give new purpose and life to something from nature?
Because I am grateful that nature has given me so much inspiration to create, it seems right to make and include natural pigments into the artwork it is inspiring.
Why make and include earth pigments into the art it inspires?
Making and using earth pigments hopefully strengthens my connection to nature and helps me bring its natural beauty and our collective energy and inspiration to collectors. In a way, it completes the circle from inspiration to collector and allows me as the artist to be the conduit.
My first step was reading Lauren Sauder’s wonderful book, A Geology of Color, An Artist’s Guide to Earth Pigments. Lauren generously shares her connection with earth pigments, explains the connection between rock and pigment, and teaches how to identify, carefully curate and turn rock into pigment. It’s a field guide that I plan to dog ear, mark up and highlight.
When I finished the book, I found myself taking my regular walks with my eyes more aware of the ground. Little things that I would have walked by seemed more important and noticeable. A small rock in the shade either became more noticeably colorful since the last time I walked that path, or my eyes and my mind were tuned to a new frequency.
I began to walk more slowly, stopping to inspect, pick up and scratch against other rocks. (My dog, Bailey, had little patience for these long pauses on the walk. I guess she was just showing me the same patience I show her when she finds a very interesting scent just further than the leash reaches.) The rocks that showed promise find their way to my pocket and those that didn’t returned to the ground.
This is where I found my very first, deeper connection with nature. Surprisingly, the connection was not in the first rock that found its way to my pocket, but the first rock that did not. I turned it over in my hand a few times as I continued on my walk and then I casually dropped it. Instantly, I knew that wasn’t what it deserved. (Yes, I see how stupid this can sound. It’s a rock. It has no feelings. What does it matter?) Somehow, I saw that rock as a gift, just as the ones in my pocket. I learned something from it and just tossing it aside did not seem like the right “thank you” for that lesson, that gift. I now take the time to return those lesson rocks to the place that I found them. It slows me down even more, but I can use a bit of slowing down.
That first walk also affirmed to me that this will no doubt be a slow and thoughtful exploration. I can’t run through the woods finding the perfect pigment stone in minutes. There is no way but the slow way. Truth be told, I am not wired to live this slowly all the time (I am a New Yorker after all), but I am happy to invite the presence, intent and pace into my walks and my routine. It’s a nice balance and an added bonus.
“Ah, Chardin, what you grind on your palette is not this color or that…but the very substance of things. You dip your brush in air and light and spread them on your canvas.” – Denis Diderot
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