The final weekend in May, 2009, held a lovely surprise for me.  Griffin Dyeworks, the place where I buy my natural dyes and mordants, (GO HERE! BUY STUFF!) holds an annual retreat at this time.  Fiber artists come from all over the state, and other states, to camp out together, share lessons, learn new crafts and tricks, dye, weave and spin (both yarn and stories). Both men and women are welcomed, of course -- and even whole families.  I longed to attend, but June would mark the beginning of a gauntlet of  major (and costly) dental procedures for me. So the Retreat did not seem to be in my future.  At least, not this year.

I know this looks like a postcard, but it is the actual view on the path from the main campground to the bunkhouse. I took this photo, myself.  I swear ta Gad.

Other photographers represented here are Melissa McCollum and Ellen Shipley  Thanks, friends!

When I arrived, on Friday, the entire campground looked deserted.  That is, pavilions and tents and booths were set up, but there were no people around.  I started to wonder if I had stumbled into some Hollywood B-movie. 

“In a world where middle-aged women choose to meet at an ordinary Boy Scout Camp... who could predict what would happen?  They did not disappear one by one (as the Boy Scouts did, in our prequel).  No, these women vanished into thin air as a group!”

Finally, I spied two women who glanced up at me and smiled.  I went up to one and introduced myself.  I couldn’t have lucked out in a bigger, better way.  “Bru,” with her open face and warm hug, told me everyone was at lunch in the Dining Hall -- she gestured -- and I was welcome to join them, then they would find some handsome young man to unload my car.  I demurred, and told her I wasn’t expected for lunch, which she dismissed with a smile.  “We don’t stand on ceremony here,” she said. “You’re home.”

I slipped into the crowded Dining Hall.  Everyone seemed to know everyone else.  The Retreat had been going on for about six hours now.  Many attendees were old friends from Renaissance Faires and the Society for Creative Anachronism, great familial clans full of spinners and weavers.  I’m sure I wasn’t the only new person there, but it always feels that way on the first day, doesn’t it?

There were announcements, including some from the Park Ranger, a laconic fellow with a long mustache who instructed us on the basics.  What to do in case of fire, how to use a flashlight, where the latrines were, and “check your cars for Sparky, he loves to ride in the car.  Any car.  Every car.”  Sparky was the young camp cat.  He apparently had a penchant for jumping in any open car window and stowing away on its next trip.  I was to see his little black-and-white kitty butt sticking out of a variety of vehicles over the weekend.  It always made me laugh out loud.

I got checked in, claimed my bed in the bunkhouse, and wondered what to do with all the fiber I had brought.   I knew I wouldn’t be weaving or spinning, which was all set up in the Tent City.  I finally parked my two chairs under a shade canopy right by the dye pots.  I was hoping everyone would enjoy the shade and sit in my (surprisingly) comfortable chairs.

These are shots of the Tent City.  I was perched over by the dye pots, during daylight hours, so I saw this mostly from a slight distance, and my close-up view were more like this:

Camp stoves were crowned with big aluminum pots, which  held two mordants -- alum and copper -- and a few colors: Kamala (golden yellow), Brazilwood (red), and Indigo (blue).  The basic idea being, I reckon, that with these three primary colors, we could make the secondary ones (orange, green, purple), and then try for the more nuanced tertiary colors with extra dips or longer ones.  An additional pot held Dyer’s Broom, plentiful along California highways (I have a potted plant on my back porch now).  It yielded a gorgeous lime green.  Another bonus pot for a while was Myrobalan, a tannin mordant that the mud-dyers were using.  It also yields a dull yellow dye, so some people played with that, as well.  I was thoroughly seduced by the Kamala, which I had no previous experience with.  Osage Orange is usually recommended as the “go-to” yellow for natural dyes, so I was extremely happy to make Kamala’s acquaintance.  We are going semi-steady now.

Dye-dry lines before I even got started.

   

                         Mood Indigo.  Indeed.

Mud-dyeing; the oxides in the dirt will give you color.

Every participant got a Griffin Dyeworks canvas bag -- perfect for dyeing.  I loved this mud dye over indigo design.  Everyone did.  Great job!

   

      Softly colored Brazilwood and Indigo skeins.

  

The gold is Kamala.  The three skeins on the bottom left fascinated me. This is gorgeous yarn Ivan spun from a friend’s part dog/part wolf pet hair!

                  Our Primary Colors.

These are my alpaca locks.  Most people dyed skeins, although some dyed apparel and tote bags.  I brought a lot of wool roving to dye, but roving uses a great deal of dye, and I felt I was consuming more than my share.  I changed my strategy to dye just alpaca locks, which, in my experience, use much less dye than roving or wool. 

Dye Master Trimble was present.  She is the Artistic Eye and Repository of Collective Wisdom at Griffin Dyeworks.  She offered suggestions, shot out wisecracks,  and never failed to exclaim when a pretty color came out of the pot.  She gave me these three Favorite Moments (and, believe me, it was hard to choose just three).

1. 1.Turning in the direction of the dyepots from a private conversation some distance away, hands in her pockets, “What going on over there?!  I heard the word ‘contaminate!’”
   

2. 2. “Really, you never know what you’ll get with Indigo.  It depends on the weather, the humidity, the hardness of the water, and the set of your mouth.”
   

3. 3.Aaaaand. In case you think there is no learning curve to dyeing fiber or fabric (“You just dunk it in, right?”), kindly observe one of this Dye Master’s personal little tie-dye projects:
   

Dye Master Trimble is the red-headed Smurfette in the top photo.

The weekend flew by, with classes, and dyeing, and private lessons, and amazing meals and desserts, and lectures and slideshows and lots of stories and laughs.  I finally learned some of the secrets of tie-dyeing I’d always wanted to know.  Lampwork -- making glass beads with a welding torch -- was taught, and a lapidary -- stone grinder -- was running all the time.  I avoided those.  It’s a slippery slope.  I love lampwork beads, but where would that studio go?  There were classes in Basketry, Netting, and Embroidery, too.  There was a lot to do.  I kept muttering, “Okay, self, we talked about this.  You cannot do Everything.  You are here to learn more about dyes.  You are not here to grow another hobby.  Hullo?  Are you listening to me?  I am not going to tell you again. . .”

There was a raffle, with attendees and vendors donating some lovely items.  The money raised was to go to two people who were SCA friends who had medical emergencies and no health insurance.  I was happy to be able to donate six alpaca fleeces to the raffle.  (Thanks again, Ron!)  I think perhaps they garnered more tickets than any other item.  One women put $50 worth of tickets into the fleece envelopes. Thank God she won Fernando Llama’s pelt.  Otherwise, I’d have felt obligated to give her my own.  Pelt, that is.  And I ain’t done using it.

    The Raffle Tables. Still more were outside of this frame.

      

               Community medieval-themed tapestry.

                             Dig the socks, too.  :->

In addition to the classes, there was yoga, swimming, a drum circle, and about as many nature walks as you could survive.  There was even a lovely sudden rain shower on Saturday.  Just. For. Us.

If I can manage a return next year, I want to try the Basketry class, since a few stunning handmade baskets appeared out of nowhere.  I was interested in the Netting class, too.  But I hung out at the dye pots the whole time. I met fewer people than I might have,, but I always wanted to be there when the Dye Master was offering up her wisdom.  She, of course, couldn’t be there all the time, nor could her Official Helper, so I tried to fill in some gaps.  It turns out I actually already knew a lot about natural dyes.  At least, a bit more than many of the people using the dye pots.  I am an autodidact, so I don’t usually think I know too much.  But I am determined and a quick study, plus I have this damn stubborn memory.  I think I was pretty useful.  I hope so.

I was careful, before the Retreat, not to expect too much. Even though my personal horoscope for May had gone on and on about how crucial this weekend would be for me, taking my life in a new direction, introducing me to at least one individual who would have a huge influence on my creative nature.  Yah.  (I am proud to say that I did not print out copies to hand out at the Retreat.)  I was determined to keep my expectations in check, but I must have been pretty excited, because as soon as I started unpacking the car there, I realized I’d forgotten something important.  My drum carder? No, got that.  My camera? No, got it.  My computer?  No  Gloves, pots, fabric wash, scissors, tongs, plastic bags, items for the Freebie table?  No.

I, um, I’d left my packed suitcase at home. 

Oh, THAT.  The whole clothes-and-personal-hygiene thinger.

A sweet friend brought it out to me.  He was curious about the place, anyway.  If he hadn’t have offered, I’d have... well, either drove back home to get it, or done without.

But then, I made the same mistake again.  The tie-dye class was Saturday evening.  So what do I choose to dye?  My pajamas.  So what do I wear to bed, as my wet pajamas sit outside in a plastic bag overnight?  Doh and whups.  Pesky clothes-and-personal-hygiene thinger.  Again.

Okay, so maybe I was excited about the weekend, after all.   And, no, I was not disappointed.

Here’s what I came home with (besides several new friends, great info about the LA public library,  and two extra pounds of fat on my person).  Imagine me all puffed up as you look at these, okay?  Both physically and spiritually.

                   Indigo and Kamala go dancing.

         

Dyed with Dyer’s Broom, Indigo, rayon/silk bamboo print scarf dyed with Kamala and Indigo, Brazilwood (augmented with Cochineal and Madder Root later)

      

The coral (top right) is a synthetic acid dye.  Once your eyes are trained, you can spot them as easily as you can spot DayGlo paints.  Speaking of which:

          

             The infamous pajamas and my tote bag.

   

The back of my pajamas skirt.  I love this!

Oh, and get a load of my hands. 

And I did wear gloves.  For a while.

  I am now an official member of the Blue Nails Guild.

I think it’s worth adding that, this morning, I wore a very simple white tee shirt and boring blue jeans to go to the dentist.  I reckon the “color” part of my brain had just  OD’ed.   

However, by the time I had survived my dental appointment (and scheduled two more), I needed something to lift my spirits.  On an hunch, I drove  out of my way to swing through the Post Office back parking lot. 

SCORE!

If you don’t know what these are for. . . take heart.

             The next Griffin Dyeworks Fiber Retreat

                              is only a year away.

p.s. Here is a gorgeous slideshow of the weekend, provided by fellow-attendee (and alpaca-fleece-winner), Carol Smith.