During one of the visits to Teotitlan last summer, I went to the studio of Arte y Seda. This family home and workshop employs a horizontal production process: they grow the worms, feeding them mulberry leaves from the trees in their courtyard, cultivate the worms through the reproduction stage where they become pupae encased in the silk cocoon. The cocoons are then soaked so that human hands can unravel the silk that is then dyed, spun and woven. It is said that 914 yards of silk forms one cocoon. It is a multi-step, multi-month process.
I bought 7 pure white cocoons and brought them home with me, waiting for a jewelry project. When I shake these, I can hear the remnants of a creature that has dried and is trapped inside.
http://insected.arizona.edu/silkinfo.htm
For the past few months I have been gathering moss from downed limbs in the forest around my house. The moss is pale olive green. It’s not really long, dripping Spanish moss, but short little hairs that grow on maple trees.
I’ve now collected about 1 cup, and intend to run a dye experiment, coloring the silk cocoons. Eric Chavez Santiago, director of education, Museo Textil de Oaxaca, responded to my plea for a recipe: put the moss in 90 degree centigrade hot water, let it sit for an hour. Cool the liquid keeping the moss in the liquid. Add the silk cocoons and keep the termperature at 70-80 C for one more hour. Let the cocoon mixture cool in the dye bath overnight. It’s important to figure out a way to keep the cocoons, which tend to float, submerged so they evenly absorb the dye color. Also, don’t stir the cocoons or they could unravel or get mushy.
“It will be very interesting to see if the moss will dye the cocoons,” said Eric. It works with cochineal and indigo.
I haven’t run the experiment yet so I’ll keep you posted.
My intention is to string the colored cocoons together with a woven yarn or thread, perhaps a crocheted thread, and perhaps embellish the necklace with clay or glass beads. I may wrap the cocoons in an alternate commercially dyed and purchased silk to give texture and play off the natural and synthetic nature of the material. Silkworms are only now cultivated in captivity. None exist any longer in the wild.
Experiment #1: I did as instructed above using 1 cup of moss to two cups of water, and the color of the cocoons were a pale shade of ochre, so I returned them to the dye bath for another 24-hour soaking for a total of 48 hours in the dye bath. They maintained their shape beautifully and colored a deeper ochre, yet still not to my satisfaction after they air dried for 24 hours. I really want a deep, deep golden color.
Experiment #2: I have picked 1 cup of moss and added this to 1 cup of water in hopes of getting a more intense dye bath. I can see that the color of the water after the moss is cooked to 190 degrees will be more of the color I am seeking. I will let the moss/water mix simmer at a constant 190 degrees for one hour, then cool the mix to 170 degrees, and add the cocoons for a second go-around.
How to keep the cocoons from floating: put the cocoons under the moss covering them completely with moss. Then, put a layer of aluminum foil over the moss, then weight this with a small ceramic plate so the cocoons don’t bob up and out from under the moss.
After Day of the Dead Reflection 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009 · Leave a Comment
There is peace on the hilltop. Below muffled sounds of drums, bass, voice, amplify across the valley. A dog sleeps in the sun. The gringa healer brings sighs of relief to stressed clients. A breeze blows over the patio bordered by mature agave fifteen feet tall and equally as wide. A birdsong adds refrain. In the distance a cock crows and a dog barks. Dog barks are incessant here. Light filters softly through the bamboo wall surrounding the outdoor kitchen. Muertos ends for this year.
In the cemetery, women whose faces are deeply lined, creases like arroyos and canyons, wrap themselves in wool, polyester, once fine now frayed and discolored robozos. There is a chill in the air and a fine drizzle begins to fall accompanying the waning light of dusk. Geraniums planted years ago are now robust, growing over the mounds of dead loved ones, enveloping them like a warm blanket. Over there a family huddles beside the new concrete wall warming themselves by a small campfire. The cemetery is expanding, new earth ready to receive both its humble and prosperous. Death is the great equalizer, they say.
The gringos pass each other with meek smiles or nods, a silent signal to each other. Of what? Recognition as the “other”, in communion, in competition for ownership rights, the privilege of being the most connected or the one with the longest history here? They forget that gringos are visitors and Zapotecs are the rightful heirs of this village. This valley. The abuelos nod as we pass in recognition and greeting. Humanity is spoken through the eyes of women who speak only a few words of Spanish, if that, and in a silent instant tell the beauty and pain of their heritage. The cemetery reminds us of a temporal life, of hope for a better future, of the value of relationship and the meaninglessness of acquisition.
As dusk descends and rain falls in droplets, the assemblage endures, covers themselves with plastic or an umbrella while the gringos with the expensive cameras pack up and leave.
Only the hummmm of the refrigerator sings to me now as I sit at the top of the hill overlooking the valley below, church spires rising to god’s infinity. The refrigerator, an opening for abundance.
What surprised me was the abundance of flowers, the reverence for the dead, the celebratory acts of remembrance, the stylization of the calaveras (skeletons) — skulls, bones, skeletons in bread, candy, altar figures, candles, candles everywhere, tall, short, votives. The mythical combined with the religious. The blending of Catholic and indigenous practice, laughter and song, mucho mezcal, purple corn tamales, the sitting and visiting, how traditional Zapotec ceremonial practice takes priority over business and work. Time is for giving to others. Earl Shorris says that whomever controls time controls their destiny and the way of the world.
There is a rhythm and pace to Dia de los Muertos that goes beyond the parties, food and drink. It is the giving of bread, chocolate, fruit and candles from the heart, tribute paid and received, an ancient tradition. You bring six loaves of Pan Muertos. I give you three to eat. You bring chocolate, I give you hot chocolate to drink. Then, I give you a package of other bread, fruit and chocolate to take home with you, symbol of lasting respect and friendship. The ceremony is in the giving, the receiving, the memory, the tribute to the dead, the time honored traditions. All this takes time.
Categories: Cultural Commentary · Oaxaca travel · Teotitlan del Valle
Tagged: dia de los muertos, Oaxaca, Teotitlan del Valle