I recently read a New Yorker magazine article by Jonathan Franzen entitled Carbon Capture (April 6, 2016). He begins the piece by talking about the new football stadium being built in Minneapolis and how the glass walls could spell the doom for thousands of birds predicted to fly into it each year. Requests to change the design by including specially patterned glass to prevent the collisions (raising the price of the stadium by one-tenth of one percent) were thwarted when the National Audubon Society issued a press release identifying the dangers of climate change. A local journalist responded by claiming that global warming was going to kill off many more than the few thousand birds the windows placed at risk.
Climate change is real, as are so many of our environmental issues. They are bigger than any of us and no one person can be held responsible or fix them. But Franzen makes a good case for each of us doing something. We do have the capacity to act and deal with the issues immediately in front of us – actions we can take right NOW to improve our environment.
The author visited a small, isolated, Peruvian community. With the help of the Amazon Conservation Center, the residents are engaged in re-foresting steep slopes by hand, operating an experimental organic farm, and running a small scale fish hatchery that raises native species. All of these ventures are employing local people and helping them raise a bit of extra cash. Yet the most important results are enriched soil, the mediation of erosion problems, and increased populations of native bird species.
Franzen also went to Costa Rica where a tropical biologist and his wife have created a Reserve of Pacific Dry Forest. The area hosts a complex inventory of hundreds of thousands of plant and animal species occurring within the space. This is “hands-on” science, engaging graduate researchers, school children, and local communities.
What struck him about both of these projects was the size of each of the component parts. They are small! Every one of them is manageable by individuals or small groups of people, yet the results are real and are making a tangible difference. Working at this scale reflects a meaningful engagement by a few in something that they love and believe in, yet the benefits affect many.
Eight years ago I made the commitment to study natural dyeing. I have investigated, learned, and integrated the use the natural dyes into my daily studio practice. I was motivated to make this change by several factors: my water source is a shallow well, I have a septic system, and my studio is right next to a small creek that feeds into a larger river – a home to local trout. The other incentive is a desire to learn and master new information.
Last fall I had a special dye project that I thought would best be accomplished with a chemical vat dye. I decided to make an exception to my natural dye commitment. It had been many years since I used these dyes and when I had the bath ready, I was struck by the unpleasant chemical smell of the vat. Vat dyes had been a regular part of my studio practice in the past and I was never bothered by, or even much aware of the smell. Now I have become accustomed to the distinct and fragrant “natural” smells of the plant dyes: marigolds, weld, madder, and rhubarb root. Vat dyes are a petrochemical product, smell like one, and are notorious for the pollution caused in their manufacturing, not to mention their potential deleterious impact on the environment when the depleted solutions are discarded.
I have decided not to use the chemical vat dyes again. Instead, I will continue dyeing with plants and using colors that are of the earth. The only vat dye I will use is indigo, reduced with plants, plant sugars or minerals. I will engage in and support the use of something that I love and believe in.
Can we stop global warming by using natural dyes? That is not likely. But “one small step” can make a difference. My involvement takes the form of growing dye plants, using them in my textiles, and teaching others how to do the same. This is good for the creek that runs behind my dye studio, the compost pile that feeds my dye and vegetable garden, and for me. I care about these things.