Onion Skins, Rose Petals & Tumeric

Words & Artwork by May Hands Photogaphy by Alex Bateman

After living in London and away from the coast I began to yearn for the expanse of the horizon and living close to nature. Searching for moments of the natural world in the urban environment, I would feel bursts of excitement when spotting moss on rooftops, wildflowers growing alongside the railway tracks or overgrown abandoned spaces (reserved for building development most likely).

Seasons became more important to me and I now treat each one as a celebration with elements of ritual. Collecting the natural debris of each season: blossom in the spring, fruits and flowers in summer, leaves and nuts in autumn and elegant sparse branches in the winter, I curate them into my practice and living environment. I felt a need to deepen my connection with the natural world and a way to do this was through creativity.

The range of forms found in nature, the strength and fragility, the array of colours and tones are a constant source of inspiration to me. Nature is ever-changing, growing, shedding and reproducing; it is an endless cycle that I am forever learning from.

Nature has always been a love of mine but it had not always been an element within my visual arts practice. Until a couple of years ago the work I made had always been inspired by consumer culture and produced with mostly man-made materials. My practice continues to be very much engaged with consumer rituals and consumption but with organic matter too. Both the urban and natural worlds produce debris and detritus, which reference the memory of a place, emotion, material qualities, value and cycles. For example, I have recently begun to look at how the seasonal cycles consume and feed our environment, our desires, senses and behaviours.

Studio practice for me is very important, I have a dedicated studio methodology, but I don’t see it only contained within the walls of my immediate studio. I make as I collect and forage for both man-made and natural ingredients, which I consider a performative aspect of my studio practice. These collected urban detritus and seasonal natural debris I appropriate, to engage with a compulsion to be connected to the world as it is now - a societal contextualisation. I am fascinated by their juxtaposition and similarities of value and their inherent material qualities, interweaving these materials together through processes.

When foraging for materials I am not just responding to the visual qualities of what I discover, but the atmosphere and emotion of the place in which I find them. All the materials I use have their own story; I can tell you where each item came from and why I chose it. For all of us, memories are potent within particular objects, and my personal experiences impacts on what catches my eye and senses. For example, I use a lot of flowers in my work, whether it’s imagery or the real thing. Memories as a child were made in parks and my Grandparent’s garden, exploring the flowerbeds, making bouquets, flower-wands, daisy chains, magic potions and collecting flowers for pressing and drawing. There is a sense of nostalgia I suppose, but also a deep admiration and love for these incredible forms of colour and fragrance that continues in the present.

The use of natural dyes from organic materials in my work is used to distort and soften structures and to conjure emotions of tactility and sensuality. The process I use is one I have taught myself from watching demonstration videos online, reading through books and experimenting.

The method I use is called bundle dyeing; I lay the collected natural materials; such as rose petals, dahlias, eucalyptus and pansies from the garden and turmeric and leftover onion skins from the kitchen, on top of pre-mordant natural fabric. This process has a ritualistic aspect and as I place each petal, leaf or skin, I think about where it has come from, the life it has lived up until this point, grateful for the sunlight, the soil and the water that played its part in the plant’s development and growth.

Once the fabric is covered as I like, it is rolled and/or folded and bundled tightly secured with string (which I continuously re-use). At this point, they look like sculptural forms and each always holds a unique shape.

Next is to steam these humble forms for at least an hour in my makeshift contraption: an enamel pot my mum used to use for papermaking when she was my age, and a colander from the kitchen cupboard I gave a new life to after it had steamed beans and carrots for years. Sometimes I use apple cider vinegar to bring out brighter and richer tones, which I do before steaming, as it depends what final effect you intend to produce.

Once out of the steamer and cooled (if I can wait), I open up the bundles carefully. It feels like Christmas or a birthday, as you have no idea what the piece will look like as each time it is a surprise. Also, the smell that emanates into the air as I unfold the bundle is fragrant and savoury. I hang the newly adorned fabrics out to dry in the garden and watch them as they dance in the breeze.

This process is chemical-free and using what would have otherwise been discarded. There are countless combinations of mordents and dye matter one could use, each combination resulting in different tones of colour. The mordant not only helps to fix the colour but also to give a duller or brighter tone. I read that ninety per cent of plants will turn out to give a yellow or gold-brown colour. It is not just vegetation that you can naturally dye with as you can use mineral matter, rusted material, earth and even animal matter (cochineal and eucalyptus beetles for example) but I prefer not to use the latter and stick to leftovers and debris for ethical reasons.

Our consumption of manmade materials, technologies and careless waste patterns are having a catastrophic effect on the earth. As a civilization are obsessed with ‘stuff’ and our environments are saturated with objects. There is an appliance, app, tool, or accessory for every activity and task, which has lead to technology creating ever-increasing needs. There seems to be a compulsion to be constantly engaged in consuming, but I question if it is absolutely necessary and if it really satisfies us? A fast-paced, accessible and instant lifestyle is what we expect and has become the norm. Consequently, the earth is being abused by our demands for technological ‘progress’ and we are taking from it and giving back negatively in landfill sites, climate change, toxic chemical pollution, deforestation and species extinction. This is not acceptable, either for the planet or future generations. We are living in what has been given the term ‘Anthropocene’, which represents the current geological, chemical and biological age we inhabit. The Anthropocene is the period during which human activity has the most dominant influence on climate and the environment. What needs to develop is a collective awareness of the results of our actions and an engagement with nature, requiring the teaching of skills to maintain and nurture mother earth.

What can one do as an individual? I believe it starts with compassion, in your home, in your community, in making those small changes and in sharing and supporting one another to do the same.

It is easy to get lost in a whirlwind of panic and worry for the planet, as it feels beyond one’s control and out of our hands. What can one do as an individual? I believe it starts with compassion, in your home, in your community, in making those small changes and in sharing and supporting one another to do the same. Think how in your everyday routine, societal role, hobby or profession you can act with compassion for the earth.

My role as an artist means I think about the materials I use, making sure all materials are sourced ethically, recycled, using leftovers or second hand whenever practical and possible. Using what is already in existence, as I am making more ‘stuff’ essentially, but it is with materials that were otherwise going to be discarded or recycled. The methods I use employ traditional skills and technologies, and are mostly all done by hand, such as knit, weave, crochet, stitch and print.

When exhibiting my installations, textiles, paintings and sculptures I hope the viewer will feel invited to step into and explore beneath the different layers, to notice the small details and consider the environments we live within. Then subsequently that they might notice things in their everyday environments they had not before and to be more mindful of their consumption and waste. Ideally, the artwork will trigger a transformative experience for the viewer.

Books I recommend for natural dyeing: ‘Dyes From Natural Sources’, Anne Dyer ‘Botanical Inks’, Babs Behan.

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