the NATURAL INK. story
where it began. following the inklings. new audio read through!
I get asked a lot “how did you come to do this?!”. This INKLINGS shares the story of that. Or some parts of the story. Written on a particular day. You may find it resonates in some way with what brings you here.
In my mid-twenties, after 5 years of studying Art History and completing teacher training, I moved to Bristol. Drawn to the creative culture of the city, and the excellent partying possibilities. I embraced all the place had to offer, after 26 years living in the more rural climbs of my home country, Wales. However, amongst busy work and social commitments, I would find myself wandering the city to find trees and grass to get my hands on. I was quietly hungry for something I could not quite articulate. An inkling of something else available beyond my reach.
Soon after turning 30, on a Summer afternoon, I found myself searching the internet for WWOOFING (working on organic farms) opportunities and booked to join a Forestry weekend at Tinkers Bubble, an off grid community in Somerset. One week in November I made the long, two-bus journey to Norton Sub Hamdon in rural Somerset to join my fellow volunteers, and community residents. We spent 4 days working to coppice hazel in the community woodland, creating deer protection for the young trees and processing the extracted wood. We lived together, shared food, work and fun in the darkening November days.
When I landed back in Bristol and took myself off to have a hot bath (naturally) I found myself laughing and crying all at once, while letting the heat and bubbles ease well-worked muscles.
Something in me had woken up.
Whether it was the fresh air, the physical labour, the laughter and ease around people I had known for mere hours, the time spent outdoors in woodland, evenings spent by the fire sharing stories, playing games, without screens as the dominant focus… Or all of the above. Something in me was broken open. It felt bittersweet. Sweet to have reconnected with something my body, heart and mind knew to be very real and very important. Vital. And bitter (or rather sad) for the heaviness that had accompanied me for so long. A sort of loneliness underneath the busy and striving life I had been building to date. I had been working as a creative mental health worker and events manager. There was nothing fundamentally wrong in this life. There was simply (or not so simply) a sense that something was missing.
I left Bristol on Easter weekend 2015, with a bag on my back, and the rest is history, or not quite. This adventure that was initially planned as a 6-12 month thing became 2,3,4 years (and to date is nearing 8). I spent the seasons living and working in various parts of England and Wales, alongside artists and land workers. Sometimes stopping for a few weeks, and sometimes through a few seasons. I knew that I wanted to work more with my hands. I wanted to make things and to learn a craft. Through this, I encountered an abundance of brilliant humans. I have felt connected and broken open, rather like that moment in the bath. Rolling with the tears and laughter, the darkness and the light, alongside hearty people, earthy people, and a lot of time alone in woodland and on beaches. (It would be easy to try and romanticise this whole process, and full disclosure - it has been hard, and beautiful. My life has completely changed.)
Back to the ink… My Great Uncle worked as a Signwriter his whole life, and I remembered being fascinated by this as a child. I wanted to follow this curiosity. A friend introduced me to a splendid woman in Hay on Wye who she had trained with as a signwriter, and I traveled there in the winter of 2015 and began to help out in her studio. Early on I became interested in what non-toxic paints we could use, and we spent some time working with Ty Mawr pigments and binders to create signage. However, when working on signage for local businesses the longevity of the more traditional enamel sign paints was needed.
During one of our studio days, my mentor showed me a swatch book of some natural wool dyes she had experimented with with her grandchildren, and I was fascinated by the colours they produced! A vibrant pink from a type of lichen, deep rich yellows, and nut browns.
I became more and more aware that using enamel paints in my emerging creative practice didn’t sit so well with me, ethically. The more I had been learning about ecology, land care and wellbeing the HARMFUL/TOXIC symbol on the back of the paints and white spirit - a red diamond shape with a dead fish and a dead tree - I found more and more jarring and out of step with my understanding of what was true, real and ethical. How could my creative practice be detrimental to the natural world, to other living things, to creation itself? I thought about this a great deal.
Then my body had its say. After a day of working in the studio I experienced intense abdominal pain which led me to the GPs and onto further investigation, scans and ending in surgery some years later. The illness was not wholly created by my working so closely with these paints, but it did highlight very strongly a physical kickback. My body said no, and I had to listen.
In the years since I have been struck repeatedly by how interconnected our human bodies are with the natural and animal world around us, as much as we like to think ourselves separate. The landscape of our bodies, and the care or lack of care, is mirrored in how we treat the body of the earth around us. We are seeing this more and more as we witness the planet’s fight to regulate itself under the influence of intense human activity, and alongside this how we are seeing our own bodies affected by pollution and stress.
Seeing this reality more clearly, AND the longing and drive to make things, be in connection with the world, to be in relationship with both sides of things - the light and the dark - has brought be deeper into ink making. This is what I offer to you! A warm invitation to dabble or immerse (or anywhere in-between) in this practice. I am curious what you will find out for yourself. From the colour findings, to the questions it may bring. The dialogue with yourself, your creative energy and that of the world around you. If you feel to drop me a line and let me know how you’re getting on i’d love to hear from you.
After this first encounter with naturally dyed wool, I began further research into ink and paint making, coming across Cat Colourfield online and feeling a Welsh camaraderie in the enquiry she was undertaking. That the process of MAKING the colour was what she was focusing on. My interest was piqued. But it wasn’t until I was living in Somerset the following year that I found my first marble Oak Galls on a stunted Oak, and made my first proper ink.
What a joy it was! The rich chocolatey tannins and bubbling rusty iron nails poking out of the top. Over time this created the deepest black ink.
Then onto Avocado pink, which blew my tiny mind. The musty apricoty-sheepy (it’s a thing) aroma of bubbling Avocado pits.
After this things gathered momentum and during the period of time I was preparing for and recovering from surgery, bereavement and our old friend the global pandemic, making and working with inks became a healing thread throughout.
As a way to navigate an often overwhelming world, I got out into the green and I wandered. I wrote things. I collected things. I have done this since I was a child, and it continues to be a base I return to. The words ‘rooting’ and ‘grounding’ get used a lot these days, and I can understand why. Our nervous systems are constantly being poked and fizzed and finding ways to come back into connection with our bodies, with the senses, at a more body-pace (as opposed to a mind-pace which is a heck of a lot quicker) is a practice. For me, a daily, hourly, minute-to-minute practice.
In those years I then turned the things I found into inks. A handful gathered Sloes, or a smattering of Rose petals. Ground beach pebbles into dusky paints. Pieces of rusting farm machinery into vinegar solution, turning inks to deep blacks and blues. Ink making itself, using the inks I make, and taking The NATURAL INK. Project out into the world, is all entwined in this practice for me, and I warmly welcome you.
Whether you have dabbled before or you’re a complete newbie, I wish for you that every stage of ink-making be a rich and connecting one. From walking your neighbourhood through the seasons and noticing plants, to gathering, to making the ink and then using the ink. Every aspect of this process is medicinal and brings connections. It is dear, deep healing medicine.
Just please don’t drink it!
Until next time.
Warm well wishes, folks.
KJ
NEWS
I will be at The Tobacco Factory Market this Sunday 19th February and the 12th and 26th March. The dates for some INK DAY sessions in Bristol are nearly ready to rock.
More information and booking details to follow for the 3-day Deep Colour Retreat at Dove Studios, Somerset to come. Save the dates Friday 13th to Sunday 15th May.
Plus, expect me at The Green Scythe Fair and Buddhafield Festival (both in Somerset) this summer, for workshops, colour fun, and the ink stall.
GOOD THINGS
The sweet smell of blossoming plants. In the front garden of a house a few doors down sits a delicious scented, I want to say, honeysuckle bush? It smells like honeysuckle, but looks woody like Buddleia. If you know what this is do let me know!
Happy Valley series 6 - oof! Sarah Lancashire OBE, I salute you.
Finding the FLOWN online co-working community. I have been working alongside folks all over the world this week and it is revolutionising my focus and work. Do check it out if you work from home/on your own and you could do with some supportive co-working conditions.
This FAMILY PARTY playlist on Spotify. For your weekend kitchen dancing.
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Feels like this has awoken something in me- or perhaps I should say it's opened my eyes to the very same sense of strange loneliness in the bustle of every day life, and made me more aware of the urge to work with my hands and create, especially in nature. Another massively inspiring inkling. Truly, everything is connected in this vast web of life.
Thank you for sharing, as always ☀️
SO lovely to hear your whole journey, the highs and the lows.. thanks for your openness and honesty. The shepards hut looks magical! Really touched and inspired by what seems like an old fashioned way to just learn from people, to go out and discover the craftswomen/men doing things that you were drawn to.. almost like slow, offline learning. So much is now online and theres so many options its so overwhelming! So refreshing to hear there is still other ways.
I came to one of your workshops at Buddhafield last year and it sparked a little inkling inside me too, hope to see you there again this year :)
Go gently xxx