Lichens as pigment makers
This past week I've been thinking about ways of letting the land and the entities in it collaborate in their own mapping, and the concept of micro-ecologies. After talking with a few friends and family members who have experience in eco-printing and dye making and in rereading some of the articles I covered last year in relation to lichen, I began experimenting with extracting dyes from them - initially this was after finding out that lichen was (and still is) traditionally used to make litmus paper, and I wondered after reading up on their response to air pollution whether or not I could create some homemade litmus from them to use in collaborative works (placing litmus paper in different locations and environments and seeing how it reacted to ambient changes/materials, which is something I still want to explore). Unfortunately I quickly found out that the type used to make litmus isn't easily found in New Zealand!
As lichens take such a long time to grow, I don't want to cause any damage to them in situ if it can be avoided - destroying them in the process of documenting them would be a shame. At present I'm working with lichen collected from fences and dead branches on my family's property, but it is my hope to find a way to explore others in the environment (potentially on Rangitoto's shoreline, trees, monuments, etc. depending on the overall narrative and concept behind doing so is). It's wild to think that the little segments I'm using are likely 10-20 years old, if not older.
So far, I've found that the ones I've gathered will happily release some pigment with the addition of water alone - discovered after pressing some damp samples between the pages of my diary (only for an hour, but longer would likely release a more distinct print). It makes me wonder if it's possible to record the those along a shore via the interaction of sea water and lichen...
I've also found that water-extracted pigment made by boiling and reducing the lichen solution can be layered like a thin watercolour paint, and the solution has a slight tackiness to it. Despite not being litmus lichen, it does react ever so slightly to acidic and basic materials (lemon juice, soda ash); and when painted on metal it creates a thin film. I'm wondering if there's a way to incorporate this into some kind of print-making/pressing or photographic project as a result (could it be used as an emulsion?). The idea of recording the land via itself feels interesting to me, but perhaps that concept is a little literal in this particular form, or too anthropocentric or processed, and moving a little too far into abstraction...
I'm not entirely sure where these ideas will go; I think I just needed to get my hands dirty. I'm enjoying thinking through the process for now, and whether or not I continue to focus so much on one particular entity, the lichens are currently an entry point that are helping me get into thinking and making with intention.
Future intentions re. the lichens
mapping - experimenting with direct contact prints
photography/video - exploring their micro-ecologies and 'landscapes' (documentation? pointclouds?)
objects - experimenting with ceramic slip or plaster
litmus - continuing this idea; making reactive paper that can be used in site specific experiments
What is it I'm hoping to convey with this type of work?
I'm mostly interested in exploring how these and other nonhuman entities exist in the spaces they occupy. Their diversity and individuality, to me at least, comes through when they are considered together as a group, and I wonder if art that explores this could make space for considerations of their individuality, and more broadly the individuality and agency of nonhuman beings...
Do I want to explore what is already there as it is, or do I want to borrow conventions of language systems to do so in the process? If so, which and how, to what effect? How can I do so in ways that do not attempt to speak for or over the subjects I'm investigating?
Some small video experiments from a recording of the surface of a tree branch
(The kaleidoscope effect is perhaps too much/unnecessary, but I wanted to revisit it as I have an idea for it in future and needed to refamiliarize myself with the process)
Notes from "The Naturalist Exchange
lichen are like "canaries in the coalmine" when it comes to air pollution; receiving all nutrients from the atmosphere but have no filtering systems, so they accumulate pollutants; particularly valuable regarding nitrogen pollution; can tell us the effects and kind of air pollution in an environment; evident through changes in their growth; a bit like corals in that way
can be used to make litmus paper
"Litmus is obtained from organisms called lichens. The dye is prepared by crushing the lichens and fermenting them in a mixture of ammonia and potash. The fermented matter, which is blue, is mixed with chalk to form a paste, which is dried and powdered. Red litmus is made by adding acid. Litmus is usually used in the form of litmus paper - the absorbent paper that has been treated with litmus."
they will grow on anything that stands still long enough, and as a result are often used to date stones, buildings, etc. (especially graves). On trees, they will often be as old as the tree itself
"elegant sunburst" lichen (think the yellow stuff found on Rangitoto) - grows in high nutrient areas, but is also currently growing happily on the outside of the International Space Station??
New favourite website: https://inaturalist.nz , where you can find lists and locations of different plants/lichens/etc. I've been using it to identify lichens I've encountered on the Hauraki Gulf islands
Mapping // Artist profile: Shannon Rankin
Uses the language of maps to explore the complexities and interconnections between what is known and what remains beyond human fields of knowledge
works via abstraction and re/assemblage of maps as a material, but also through mapping and abstracting digital images (from satellites, internet, photographs of environments etc.) often from different perspectives - arial, macro, micro, etc.
"Maps are flat; the earth is round...How to wrestle the complexities of the three-dimensional world to the two-dimensional mat of the map?"
"Maps...are everyday metaphors that speak to the fragile and transitory state of our lives and our surroundings. Rivers shift their course, glaciers melt, volcanoes erupt; boundaries change both physically and politically. The only constant is change.”
“I’m transcribing a vast amount of physical space into something I can hold and stitch by hand. In some of these I am also incorporating digital glitches which are visible when zooming in on Google Earth.”
“I’m trying to squeeze, combine, merge and overlap the macro and micro... looking in and looking out.”
"A map is not the size of the earth its describes. Scale must be determined, as well as which features to include and which to leave out. You can’t include every tree in the forest; generalizations have to be made. Artists are familiar with these considerations and choices. A work of art is not the thing it describes, but something other."
“To put a city in a book, to put the world on one sheet of paper—maps are the most condensed humanized spaces of all... They make the landscape fit indoors, make us masters of sights we can’t see and spaces we can’t cover.” (Robert Harbison, Eccentric Spaces)
Synapse | Diptych, road maps, adhesive, paper, 22” x 44” each, 2011
Earth Embroidery (Pack Ice), hand embroidered thread on paper, 7" x 7", 2016
Comments