Yellow ink from green buckthorn berries:
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Buckthorn Yellow from green buckthorn berries. a Paduan MS recipe.
Most students of the history of medieval and renaissance paint are familiar with Sap Green, often produced from ripe buckthorn berries. Fewer have experimented with a yellow pigment that can be made using the unripe green buckthorn berries. In Mary Merrifield's book Original Treatises a recipe from the Paduan Manuscript (662) explains how it's done! Merrifield thinks that the Paduan Manuscript dates from the late 16th or more probably the mid or late 17th century (643).
Friday, September 11, 2015
blue pigment from woad
Woad (Isatis tinctoria) seeds were purchased from Sand Mountain Herbs. Having read that this plant is a heavy feeder, classified as an invasive weed in certain states and that the water shed off the leaves may be a germination inhibitor for other seeds, I planted the seeds in shallow drills in two giant plastic plant pots on a gravel covered patio separated from any other gardens by a paved driveway.
Economically frugal as always I planted the seeds in the soil that was on sale, Miracle-Gro. And fertilized it every month with liquid miracle grow. Next year, in hopes to yield more blue I will plant the seeds in an organic, rich mix, fertilize organically and harvest the leaves earlier.
Extracted from the leaves, indican and isatan B can be converted into indigo!
Jenny Dean's Wild Color explains four methods to dye using a woad vat. I decided for the first year I would try Method 1. It involves washing soda and sodium hydrosulfite (Sodium dithionite/Na2S2O4). Had I known how bad the hydrosulfite smelled I would not have ordered any. Hindsight is 20/20, right? It came in two layers of plastic and two of cardboard too. Not sure where to store it, it's wrapped in four layers of plastic in plastic storage drawers.
I soaked the fabrics overnight in a gallon of bottled water. The water turned a little yellow/brown and tested between pH 5 and 6. Possibly because I didn't clean it enough. Cleaning the fabrics before dyeing is called scouring. Next time the fibers will be scoured more thoroughly. I've read online that uneven dyeing is a common problem for new dyers and perhaps why my colors came out unevenly. The morning I harvested the woad leaves there was more plant material than I thought so I threw more fiber and fabric in to soak.
Harvested the woad leaves from the plants in the two pots. Looks like there were only about seven plants but they yielded a surprising 428g of leaves. I cut them up using scissors and poured nearly boiling (190F) water over them.
I let them steep for the recommended hour and got my sherry colored liquid!
Pouring the whole concoction through a strainer into a bucket, I reserved the leaves for a second dye bath.
Letting the dye vat cool to 120F seemed to take for ever! Once it had, I sprinkled about two teaspoons of washing soda to turn it to the essential "greeny-brown" color. and introduced air with an electric mixer. The bubbles changed from clear to blue quite quickly. There was not an abundance of bubbles like I hoped but what bubbles there were I skimmed off and ladled in to a glass bowl.
In retrospect I should have saved some of this liquid and let the blue settle out to try to make my blue paint.
Daniel V. Thompson talks about the flower in The Materials and Techniques of Medieval Painting. "In the course of dyeing a scum collects on the surface of the vat, and this was called in Latin the spuma or flos indici, and in English, "florey", or the flower of woad. This foam or flower was skimmed off and dried and used, either alone or in more or less elaborate compounds, under the name of indigo in the Middle Ages." (Thompson 2: 138)
There was very little foam on the surface. The foam dried quickly and was only enough to paint a tiny bit. I think the leaves were harvested too late and the dyeing potential had decreased as we can see by the weak results on the fibers.
Almost everything on the linen got washed away when I rinsed and washed the fiber and fabric as recommended. The cotton produced a pretty blue cloud effect. The unevenness on those pieces can be attributed to incomplete scouring. The wool wasn't scoured and soaked properly and picked up dye patchily so there's variegated wool yarn. The silk was dipped twice and gave me the most even result. The end shade of that piece was s soft baby blue.
Next time I'll dye at the peak plant health with hopefully more plant material and definitely with more effectively scoured fabric and wool.
And here is the 2017 trial.
Economically frugal as always I planted the seeds in the soil that was on sale, Miracle-Gro. And fertilized it every month with liquid miracle grow. Next year, in hopes to yield more blue I will plant the seeds in an organic, rich mix, fertilize organically and harvest the leaves earlier.
Extracted from the leaves, indican and isatan B can be converted into indigo!
I soaked the fabrics overnight in a gallon of bottled water. The water turned a little yellow/brown and tested between pH 5 and 6. Possibly because I didn't clean it enough. Cleaning the fabrics before dyeing is called scouring. Next time the fibers will be scoured more thoroughly. I've read online that uneven dyeing is a common problem for new dyers and perhaps why my colors came out unevenly. The morning I harvested the woad leaves there was more plant material than I thought so I threw more fiber and fabric in to soak.
Harvested the woad leaves from the plants in the two pots. Looks like there were only about seven plants but they yielded a surprising 428g of leaves. I cut them up using scissors and poured nearly boiling (190F) water over them.
I let them steep for the recommended hour and got my sherry colored liquid!
Pouring the whole concoction through a strainer into a bucket, I reserved the leaves for a second dye bath.
Letting the dye vat cool to 120F seemed to take for ever! Once it had, I sprinkled about two teaspoons of washing soda to turn it to the essential "greeny-brown" color. and introduced air with an electric mixer. The bubbles changed from clear to blue quite quickly. There was not an abundance of bubbles like I hoped but what bubbles there were I skimmed off and ladled in to a glass bowl.
In retrospect I should have saved some of this liquid and let the blue settle out to try to make my blue paint.
Daniel V. Thompson talks about the flower in The Materials and Techniques of Medieval Painting. "In the course of dyeing a scum collects on the surface of the vat, and this was called in Latin the spuma or flos indici, and in English, "florey", or the flower of woad. This foam or flower was skimmed off and dried and used, either alone or in more or less elaborate compounds, under the name of indigo in the Middle Ages." (Thompson 2: 138)
There was very little foam on the surface. The foam dried quickly and was only enough to paint a tiny bit. I think the leaves were harvested too late and the dyeing potential had decreased as we can see by the weak results on the fibers.
Almost everything on the linen got washed away when I rinsed and washed the fiber and fabric as recommended. The cotton produced a pretty blue cloud effect. The unevenness on those pieces can be attributed to incomplete scouring. The wool wasn't scoured and soaked properly and picked up dye patchily so there's variegated wool yarn. The silk was dipped twice and gave me the most even result. The end shade of that piece was s soft baby blue.
Next time I'll dye at the peak plant health with hopefully more plant material and definitely with more effectively scoured fabric and wool.
And here is the 2017 trial.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Vine Charcoal
The thick woody part of some healthy grape vines denuded of leaves and side shoots
cut to length for the size of the container and cooked on the coleman stove like the willow but in a smaller container and not as precisely layered, came out as beautiful charcoal.
I didn't whittle or peel the bark off but let it burn with the rest and it made fine vine charcoal. The bark just seemed to flake off as ash on the final product. Not even too messy.
cut to length for the size of the container and cooked on the coleman stove like the willow but in a smaller container and not as precisely layered, came out as beautiful charcoal.
I didn't whittle or peel the bark off but let it burn with the rest and it made fine vine charcoal. The bark just seemed to flake off as ash on the final product. Not even too messy.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Making drawing charcoal from willow branches!
In the spring I collected the dropped willow branches under my weeping willow (Salix) tree. They spent March - August in my non-climate-controlled garage.
The idea to make charcoal from willow I read about first in The Materials and Techniques of Medieval Painting (Thompson 87) and the medieval method explained in Il Libro Dell'Arte (Broecke 54, 55). I watched this youtube video and read of a few other methods online. I was complaining to Jack, a blacksmith from Kennebec River Forge at the Great Falls Ballon Fest Ravensbridge demo that I needed a friend who had a big yard who frequently made fires that I could use as my oven and he suggested I should 'do what the boyscouts do and make use of a camp stove'. Encouraged by almost any suggestion of successful experiments these days, I went for it!
Follow my example AT YOUR OWN RISK. Charcoal is possibly carcinogenic as is breathing smoke. Use a well ventilated area and gloves.
On August 27, 2015 I whittled all the bark from the branches I had saved, cut them into pieces that would fit in a tin I got from Goodwill. Punched two holes in the top of the tin lid with a hammer and small nail for the smoke to escape.
I cut the whittled willow branches into pieces that would fit in the tin, one layer at a time, setting each layer perpendicular to the last until the tin was full.
Wiring it shut, I set it on my Coleman grill. Safety, safety, folks! I made sure my hose and fire extinguisher were ready.
After calling the Fire department to give them a heads up about the mysterious smoke I was going to create, I turned the stove on, with a fairly low flame. In several minutes it began to smoke and continued to smoke for about an hour!
Around minute forty-five I turned the flame higher. Not much changed after this modification. I let it cook until I saw no more smoke come from the holes, shut off the stove and shoved two bamboo skewers in the holes in the lid to deprive the system of most of the oxygen.
And Voila! Charcoal to draw with!
The idea to make charcoal from willow I read about first in The Materials and Techniques of Medieval Painting (Thompson 87) and the medieval method explained in Il Libro Dell'Arte (Broecke 54, 55). I watched this youtube video and read of a few other methods online. I was complaining to Jack, a blacksmith from Kennebec River Forge at the Great Falls Ballon Fest Ravensbridge demo that I needed a friend who had a big yard who frequently made fires that I could use as my oven and he suggested I should 'do what the boyscouts do and make use of a camp stove'. Encouraged by almost any suggestion of successful experiments these days, I went for it!
Follow my example AT YOUR OWN RISK. Charcoal is possibly carcinogenic as is breathing smoke. Use a well ventilated area and gloves.
On August 27, 2015 I whittled all the bark from the branches I had saved, cut them into pieces that would fit in a tin I got from Goodwill. Punched two holes in the top of the tin lid with a hammer and small nail for the smoke to escape.
I cut the whittled willow branches into pieces that would fit in the tin, one layer at a time, setting each layer perpendicular to the last until the tin was full.
Wiring it shut, I set it on my Coleman grill. Safety, safety, folks! I made sure my hose and fire extinguisher were ready.
After calling the Fire department to give them a heads up about the mysterious smoke I was going to create, I turned the stove on, with a fairly low flame. In several minutes it began to smoke and continued to smoke for about an hour!
Around minute forty-five I turned the flame higher. Not much changed after this modification. I let it cook until I saw no more smoke come from the holes, shut off the stove and shoved two bamboo skewers in the holes in the lid to deprive the system of most of the oxygen.
And Voila! Charcoal to draw with!
Monday, August 10, 2015
Word of the Week amanuensis
a·man·u·en·sis
əˌmanyəˈwensəs/
noun
noun: amanuensis; plural noun: amanuenses
- a literary or artistic assistant, in particular one who takes dictation or copies manuscripts.Google says it's use began in the early 17th century. Not a period word but still an awesome one!
Brought to us by June Russell. Thanks June!
And from OED:
And from OED:
amanuensis, n.
Pronunciation:
/əˌmænjuːˈɛnsɪs/
Forms:
Pl. -es
/iːz/
.
Etymology:
Latin (in Suetonius) adj. used subst., < a manu a secretary, short for servus a manu + -ensis belonging to.(Show Less)
One who copies or writes from the dictation of another.
1619 W. Sclater Expos. Thess.
(1627)
I. To Reader 6
An Amanuensis to take my Dictates.
1632 R. Burton Anat. Melancholy
(ed. 4)
Democritus to Rdr. 12
Allowing him sixe or seuen Amanuenses to write out his dictats.
1714 Spectator No. 617. ⁋4
Our Friend..by the help of his Amanuensis, took down all their Names.
1765 A. Tucker Light of Nature II. 446
Cæsar could dictate to three amanuenses together.
1860 S. Smiles Self-help ii. 38
For many years after their marriage, she acted as his amanuensis.
Word of the Week inspissated
inspissated
in·spis·sate
ˈinspiˌsāt,inˈspisˌāt/
verb
past tense: inspissated; past participle: inspissated
- thicken or congeal.
"inspissated secretions"
Found in De Art Illuminandi as translated by Thompson in a note on pg 43. The OED says it's first use was in 1655.
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