blues in Bretagne

and playing with the “midsummer weed”

“the world is blue at its edge and in its depths”

from “A Field Guide for Getting Lost”

Rebecca Solnit

I wish I could find my copy of this book. Ironically, it has misguidedly lost itself among the fields of other books on my shelves. If I could find it, I could also comply with literary protocol and give you a page reference.

I have been planting the seeds of blue here, rather later in the season than I should have because I was away from home at the optimum time (November) and then caught up in a whirlpool of medical appointments interspersed with seasonal baking and the incessant mowing of grass that this unusually wet summer has thrown on my shoulders. Somebody tried mowing it with the sheep while I was away, but that only resulted in some deeply unwanted rose-pruning and the almost complete defoliation of my beloved Griselinia littoralis. I was not best pleased as you may imagine. This charming now-native of New Zealand is rumoured to have been carried there by Māori about 800 years ago when they navigated their way from somewhere in Polynesia and across the deep blue ocean, guided by the stars of the even darker blue skies. It prints a lovely warm pink, the colour of yesterday’s sunrise on silk or the blush on the cheek of a peach when dyeing wool. Over the years that I have been returning to Tréogat (Bretagne, France) I have made friends with several lovely specimens of this charming species growing within walking distance of our retreat (where we can do a little gentle community pruning so that they don’t grow over the road) and am looking forward to exploring their delicate prints in contrast to the blues that we anticipate conjuring there this year.

The residential (fully catered) retreat takes place from September 29th to October 5th 2024 and has a handful of places left available (the only other European retreat in 2024 is fully booked with a waitlist). Local growers have been engaged to cultivate a supply of woad and (Japanese) indigo so that we have fresh leaves to use. A particularly lovely aspect to these residential retreats is that while formal ‘instruction’ runs for specific hours, informal gathering continues often into the small hours. We natter around the cauldron, feed small twigs to the flames and watch the moon rise. At other times we stitch happily in the various cosy spaces around the old farm complex that shelters us for the week, swim in the Atlantic Ocean or wander off for a visit to a nearby brocante.

Given the interest in the dress I posted in the edition that precedes this one I will be bringing it with me on the journey and sharing the construction trick for those participants who would like to transform their dye samples into something wearable.

More about the event here ::

https://clairedesbruyeres.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/The_poetics_of_the_blues.pdf

One of the other plants in demand at last summer’s retreat in Tréogat was Hypericum perforatum, also known as St John’s Wort. Native to most of Europe, it flourishes in wastelands around farm fields and anywhere else it can get its toes in. Migrants from Europe took it with them into the Americas and Australia where it spread quickly :: shared between neighbours as an healing herb (more on that shortly) or simply along roadsides as seeds were carried in the mud stuck to tyres. It has been gradually creeping along the dirt road that leads to my farm. Once or twice I have found it in our paddocks and have swiftly grubbed it out, as it is poisonous to horses (excessive ingestion can send them blind), but from where the lane leaves our boundary down to the macadamised road I am content to simply harvest.

It is classed as a noxious weed in Australia and thus landowners are legally required to remove it if they find it within their keep. I have occasionally been admonished by passers-by, who have demanded I instantly stop “picking the wildflowers” however those slightly confrontational moments quickly become “educative opportunities”.

Many herbalists recommend taking some form of St John’s Wort orally against depression, but given that the plant can make the subject photosensitive and render the user more susceptible to sunburn as well as impairing vision by making the eyes more sensitive to light I wouldn’t eat it myself :: I cannot imagine my depression being lightened by the inability to see or having my skin turn red. Read more about this interesting plant here.

In a dyepot, on the other hand, this wee plant is just marvellous.

The little yellow flowers and to a lesser degree, the leaves, are dotted with hypericin which yields shades from burgundy to pink. In unadulterated brew form the plant dyes yellow on cellulose fibres, burgundy/pink shades on protein but it’s when you start to play about with mordants that the fun really begins.

There are so many variables that can influence the outcome :: the metal of the pot used to make the brew, the water that the plant is cooked in, the length of cooking time and of course the potential “adulterants”. I photographed a series of little porcelain bowls for my book ‘Eco Colour’ , using the Gerber method of dye assessment in which extracted dye is portioned into small vessels and minuscule quantities of mordant added. Sometimes the colour change is immediate (the addition of alum, if you use it, will make you feel like a sorcerer/ess!!) , others take longer. To my surprise I realise I haven’t ever taken the trouble to premordant pieces of cloth before bundling with this plant, so I will try and find time this week while it is still in full bloom.

That said, the dress in the video below shows some interesting variations. Firstly there are the greens, reds and yellows of the plant then the darkness from raw steel and the brilliant yellow from the partially worn away zinc coating on the object used to wrap around, and even some small spots of unexpected midnight blue. It would be interesting to discover exactly what caused that, there’s something so alluring about the blues…

and if you’re wondering about the brown around the string marks, it’s what happened when the leaves and flowers and stalks were tucked around the bundle and the whole thing cooked in desalinated bore water. The outside layer of the bundle acts as a filter, which is why the brown hasn’t travelled all the way through.