Natural Color

Originally published October 2016 in the Santa Cruz Sentinel

Sasha Duerr’s new book, “Natural Color,” poses a difficult question and provides some thoughtful answers. The question is an ever-present, global one: What more can we do to help our planet? The answer is: Rethink where color in our fabrics comes from.

My napkins soak up the pink dye after
 the avocado pits have simmered for an hour on the
 stove. Duerr says that natural dies are often more
 complex than synthetic dies. A natural red dye, for
 example, will contain hints of blue and yellow,
whereas chemically produced red dye contains
 only a single pigment.

Duerr says that although we don’t eat our clothing and textiles, the process of dyeing them is nevertheless poisoning us and our planet. She provides these startling statistics about the contamination of our water:

• The World Bank estimates that 17 to 20 percent of the world’s industrial water pollution comes from textile dyeing and treatment.
• There are 72 toxic chemicals in our water that originate purely from the dyeing process; of these 30 cannot be removed. (See “A Cancer Cycle, From Here to China” at www.nytimes.com)

She blames “fast fashion”—the relentless mandate of the fashion industry to convince us that, although an article of clothing may still be functional, it must be replaced by something more stylish. She compares fast fashion to fast food, since, in both cases, rapid consumption rules the day with little thought given to the negative consequences. 

Duerr carries the relationship between food and fashion further. She writes that “just as many of us have lost our basic knowledge of food and cooking . . . so too the basic knowledge and practice of making plant-based color for fashion and textiles have been lost.” As the slow food movement strives to link the pleasures of the table with a commitment to community and environment protection, Duerr seeks to connect textiles and fashion with the same commitment to global health.

Even though our grandmothers were using more natural, recognizable ingredients in their cooking than we are today, I’m not sure they were dyeing their own fabric. When tie-dyeing and batik became popular in the US in the 1960s and 70s, and many textile artists were experimenting at home with natural plant-based colors for dyeing fabric, dangerous metal mordants such chrome, tin, and copper were part of the recipe. Mordants are necessary to help dyes bond with fibers, making fabrics colorfast through washing and wearing cycles.

For certain natural dye sources and colors, powdered metals are still a necessary part of Duerr’s recipes, although she works only with alum and iron, the safest choices. Nevertheless, she uses these less-toxic metals with “extreme care and caution” (e.g. gloves, lids on pots, dust masks, dedicated tools and equipment, safe disposal of spent dyes, etc.). Fortunately, adding a metal mordant is not always necessary.

When oil paints gave Duerr headaches and nausea as a budding artist in her early 20s, Duerr began investigating natural colorants in India, Nepal, Tibet and Indonesia. Plants have provided of a whole gamut of textile colors for centuries, but it was not easy finding the how-to of sustainable plant dye practices in her travels. She continued her research in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she “fell in love with the variety and sources of plant-based palettes” available in her new backyard. She wrote her MFA thesis on dyeing without toxic metal mordants and founded Permacouture Institute in 2007, to continue the exploration of responsible fashion and textile practices.

For Mother’s Day a few years ago my farmer daughter sent me a set of seven small pen and ink drawings of individual vegetables and fruits. She tinted each image with color distilled from the subject itself. I displayed the drawings in my kitchen and over time the colors have all disappeared, except for the cabbage, which is still an olive green. So why didn’t the cabbage fade?

Some plants have built-in mordants that bind their color to fiber (or paper) without additives. Plant-based materials that Duerr uses for making color-fast dyes include avocado pits, loquat leaves, eucalyptus bark, and pomegranate rinds, which all contain significant amounts of tannin. Safer mordants have also been made from proteins like milk or soy, and even from plants that absorb metals like aluminum through their roots.

Duerr encourages readers to start dyeing with “the wayward white wool sweater in the back of your closet that you haven’t worn and the leftover by-products of your favorite meal before they hit your compost pile.” With natural dyes, your fabric fiber choices are also natural:

• Protein fibers (animal-based): Alpaca, angora, cashmere, silk, wool
• Cellulose fibers (plant-based): Cotton, hemp, linen, nettle, piña, ramie, sisal

 Other natural materials such as shell, bone, wood and porous paper can also be dyed.

The projects in “Natural Color” are arranged by the seasons, and fall includes “Hopi black sunflower seed wool rug” and “Madder root scarf.” (Madder root can make vibrant, clear reds, otherwise difficult to find in nature.) Tannin-rich persimmons are typically used green, and require a week of fermentation and a year of aging, so you should start gathering them now for next year’s projects. Winter is for pomegranate rinds, purple cabbage leaves, blue spruce branches and redwood cones.

For fun I decided to give her “Avocado pit pillowcases” project a try, although when I couldn’t hunt down linen of any sort on my shopping safari, I used cotton napkins instead. I found washing soda and something approximating Marseille soap at Nob Hill, which are needed to help release built-up waxes, dirt and oils in the cotton fibers prior to dyeing. The pre-washing, dyeing, post-washing and drying took the better part of a day, but the results were nice enough: the pits turned the white cotton a nice, organic shade of pink.

If slow fashion is to gain any momentum at all, we will have to become more environmentally-conscious consumers. Sasha Duerr’s book is all about the kind of awareness we need—not only for making better choices, but also for tuning into the cycle and offerings of nature. As Duerr points out, nature is the ultimate instructor, an invaluable source of color, inspiration and innovation for all creative endeavors.

Living Art

Exploring the creative potential of succulents, air plants, moss and staghorn ferns

Originally published November 27, 2015 in the Santa Cruz Sentinel

Shelly received a best in show ribbon at the Monterey
 County Fair this year for her staghorn fern moosehead.
She has several mounted along the fence in her back yard.

As a software writer for Fiserv, Shelly Trabuco was happy to be able to work from home for 18 years. When she retired, she didn’t yearn to travel. She just wanted to continue staying home. This was her opportunity to spend more time with her plants.

Shelly isn’t your average gardener. She uses plants in traditional ways in her spacious, sloping yard in Prunedale. But like a topiarist, she thinks a lot about what else a plant can do, and comes up with imaginative solutions.

You’ll see lots of succulents, cacti, air plants and staghorn ferns in her yard—more self-sufficient sorts of plants that don’t require a lot of watering, or, in some cases, even soil. These are the plants that allow her the artistic freedom to create what she calls, “living art.” Strolling through her garden you’ll see them incorporated with salvaged materials like old picture frames, vintage birdcages, discarded shoes and chairs.

Shelly designed this outfit from live air plants and
 Spanish moss to grace her greenhouse mannequin
 long before she considered entering it in a fashion
 show. For the upcoming “Pivot” art/fashion show
, this garment plus a second male version will be
 modeled on the runway as “living wear.”

Repurposing found materials is one of Shelly’s prime objectives. She turns succulent cuttings into artwork inside up-cycled picture frames. She revitalizes a worn cowboy boot into the perfect receptacle for a beaded succulent aptly called string of pearls. She transforms old chair seats into beds for echeveria and sempervivum.

Shelly’s succulent frame:  Shelly pokes a hole with a metal skewer to

 help embed the tiny succulent cuttings into the moss and soil when making

 a succulent frame. When the entire frame is full of succulents, she will

  allow it to rest horizontally for a few weeks until the tiny plants take hold.

Even her two greenhouses, built on the hillside above her Prunedale home, make use of salvaged doors and large multi-paned wood-frame windows from Second Change Mercantile in Marina. She designed what she calls her “Mission Prune Tuscany”-style dream greenhouses, with tiled roofs, faux adobe walls, and even a bell tower. No plant ever had it so good, nurtured in these stylish interiors, featuring ceiling fans, a chandelier, French doors, comfortable chairs and mood lighting. The breezeway between the two small buildings provides shade for air plants, which decorate the wire cage of a vintage metal fan, and staghorn fern pups mounted on slabs of wood. Comfy chairs and tables are included for relaxing and creating.

Shelly uses water wisely, channeling rainwater from the
 roof into a long row of 50-gallon plastic trash barrels, each one
connected to the next with pieces of plastic garden hoses. The
 inverted lids of the trash barrels make a ideal spot for her
 succulent wreaths to rest while she keeps them damp and
horizontal for a few weeks until the cuttings are established.

When I visited Shelly’s garden sanctuary in September, she showed me how to make one of her framed succulent pieces, suitable for hanging on the wall. She likes to use low growing, easy care succulents such as hens and chicks, echeveria and sedum, and resin or plaster frames, that won’t rot like wood when the plants are watered. She collects a box-full of tiny cuttings clipped from her yard, then places them one by one into a bed of damp moss and soil—a somewhat random process she refers to as “poke and play.” When the space within the frame has been completely filled up with these colorful, flower-like plants, she keeps them damp and horizontal for a few weeks until established. Then the framed living art is ready to hang on a wall.

Shelly took two first place/best in show ribbons at the Monterey County Fair this year for one of her for her staghorn fern moose head, and her double brain cactus which sits atop the hollowed-out head of a classical Greek-style bust; and one of her succulent frames took second place. She was also thrilled to win the grand prize—a special award for Excellence in Horticulture.

Shelly loves to share her ideas and techniques with other plant lovers, and did so at a recent Gardeners’ Club meeting in Aptos. Her blog also features lots of photos and step-by-step tutorials, such as how to make boutonnieres and corsages from succulents and statice that can be replanted afterwards; hangable glass globes with a tiny seaside tableau of air plants (tillandsia), sand and seashells; and cement garden stones with phrases such as “Compost Happens” and “My Happy Place.”

Although most of her plants are drought-tolerant, Shelly uses water wisely, channeling rainwater from the roof of her home into a long row of 50-gallon plastic trash barrels, each one connected to the next with pieces of plastic garden hoses. To avoid over-watering, she uses Blumat self-watering probes that can sense when a plant needs moisture and draw it automatically from a nearby receptacle.

For the “Pivot: the Art of Fashion” runway show coming up December 4 in Santa Cruz, Shelly will debut two his-and-her garments made from living plants. Her island-wear designs are made with epiphytes (air plants and Spanish moss)—plants that acquire water and nutrients from moist air rather than from soil—accented with the large red blooms of earth star bromeliads.

Although native to Central and South America, these three plants adapt well to our moderate coastal climate. Air plants are especially suitable for crafting because they can be attached to many different surfaces such as rocks, seashells, ceramic pottery or untreated wood, using waterproof glue, wire, twist-ties, or fishing line.

For more information about growing and crafting with these adaptable plants, as well as events featuring her living art designs, consult Shelly’s website nestegggardens.com.

Pivot: The Art of Fashion will premier at 7:30 p.m., Friday, December 4^th at the Rio Theatre in Santa Cruz. For tickets and a list of featured designers go to pivot-artfashion.com.

Here’s how to make one of Shelly’s succulent frames (also see nestegggardens.com/index.php/category/living-art/):

First, spray the inside edge of a wooden frame with sealer to help it repel water, or use a plaster or resin frame that will not rot. Nail or screw together four 3-inch wide pieces of composite decking board cut to fit the frame back. Paint one side of a piece of stiff, 1/2-inch square-grid hardware cloth with black spray paint (the dark color blends in better than shiny metal until the plants cover it up), and staple to the bottom of the decking boards to create a box. Attach the wire-covered side of the box to the back of the picture frame using deck screws

Frame-side down, cover the hardware cloth with a layer of moss and then fill the box with tightly packed potting soil. Staple shade cloth and plastic fencing to the box, to hold the potting soil in place, and add eye screws to each side for attaching hanging wire.

Frame-side up, insert the succulent cuttings into the potting soil by poking roots into the moss with a skewer or chopstick. Allow the framed succulents to lie flat and water regularly until the cuttings are rooted well-enough to hang vertically on a wall. 

Drones

Photographers, others find more and more creative uses for drones

Originally published July 10, 2015 in the Santa Cruz Sentinel

This beautiful view of Lighthouse Point at sunset shot by Steve Mandel, has great color and shadow
 patterns. The Surfing Museum lighthouse can be photographed by a drone, but the coastline north
 of the lighthouse cannot. By law, drones cannot cross the mean high tide line over the Monterey Bay
 National Marine Sanctuary (about ¼ of California’s coast), with certain exceptions. (photo by Steve Mandel)

  

Mandel uses a sun-shaded high-definition monitor
—or occasionally goggles—to see what his drone
 camera is seeing and to frame his photographs.
 (photo by Tina Baine)

As a former photojournalist, I’m wondering if newspapers will ever be allowed to use drones to capture the scope of a rock concert, the drama of a high-speed police chase, or simply the beauty of the earth viewed from 400 feet in the air. If these camera-toting flying machines had been around back in the 90s, I might not have been denting the hood of my pick-up by standing on it, or routinely carrying a ladder in my truck bed or constantly searching for roof access in buildings—whatever it took to get a better perspective on things.  

But although photojournalists and other professionals have lobbied the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), they may not be allowed to use drones at work anytime soon, because privacy and safety concerns currently out-weigh the need for a perspective from a higher vantage point. The FAA has made the use of drones for commercial purposes illegal.

However, flying drones recreationally is okay, as long as it’s not endangering lives or in restricted airspace—and there’s quite a lot of that, including over National Parks or higher than 400 feet from ground level. This means you can buy a drone and photograph your own outdoor wedding (as long as it’s not in Yosemite or along most of West Cliff Drive), but you can’t hire a professional to do so. And despite one industry analyst’s prediction that consumers worldwide will spend about $720 million on drones in 2015, most of us will not see many photographs taken with drones unless we shoot them ourselves.

Which isn’t such a bad idea, because in the last few years, drones (also known as quadcopters or UAVs—unmanned aerial vehicles) are becoming increasingly more affordable, reliable and simpler to operate. And best of all, they can capture high-resolution, stable images that are quite extraordinary. Even subject matter you’ve seen a thousand times from ground level becomes entirely fresh and fascinating when viewed from above.

This Hoverbike Star Wars drone came assembled, but Mandel
modified it by completely changing the electronics.
  (photo by Steve’s wife, Carol Foote)

“They say it’s like putting a tripod up in the sky,” says local photographer Steve Mandel. “Friday night we went to some friends’ house in Saratoga for dinner—it was an outdoor barbecue—and I launched it and took a picture straight down.” The resulting photograph is proof that even the most commonplace subject matter can be transformed into something extraordinary by virtue of a “heightened” perspective.

An enthusiastic promoter of drones, Mandel also appreciates their potential for good. “They can do all kinds of things with these,” he says. “You can attach infrared cameras for search and rescue work. In Canada last year a guy got into an auto accident and he got a concussion and he wandered into the woods and the temperature was dropping rapidly and he would have probably died in the woods. And they sent up a drone with an infrared monitor and they spotted him and were able to rescue him.”

A Soquel resident and founder/president of Mandel Communications, Inc., Steve Mandel has also been an exceptional wildlife photographer and conservationist for many years. In 2008 he established the Lions of Gir Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to the construction of barricades around open pit wells in India, to help save endangered Asiatic lions of the Gir Forest.

Now he uses drones to further his interest in wildlife protection. “I’m working with scientists and we’re looking at using drones to gather data on elephant seals,” he says. “And I’m going to be taking this one with me (pointing to one of many drones filling up his office workshop) to Antarctica at the end of this year and doing studies in Argentina and Antarctica and filming elephant seals. Their populations were decimated and now they’ve came back and they’re trying to study them and understand them and prevent any future catastrophes. I’ll also be filming southern right whales off the coast of Argentina when we go down there.”

When in flight, drones sound something like a swarm of bees, and wild animals react in different ways to the sound. ”I took a smaller drone with me last year when I went to Kenya,” Mandel says, where he stayed at a hotel called Giraffe Manor where giraffes roam the lawns. “I’ve wanted to stay there for 20 years. The owner flies a drone and they’re used to it so it doesn’t bother the giraffes. So they let me fly around there and take pictures. So that was really fun."

Steve Mandel took a small drone to Nairobi, Kenyan last year when he stayed at Giraffe Manor where giraffes roam the lawns. You can see Mandel on the ground, remotely shooting the photograph from his drone, which can hover like a helicopter. (photo by Steve Mandel)

But, “a lot of the wild animals are really afraid of them,” he says. “A problem they have in Kenya and Tanzania is that sometimes the elephants will roam into the fields and eat their crops.  And sometimes the farmers will attack and kill the elephants. So they’ve got a couple of places now where they’re trying to use drones to chase away the elephants.  Because elephants are afraid of very little, but they are afraid of swarms of bees.” 

Drone flying regulations vary country to country, says Mandel. “People have tried to fly drones over a lot of World Heritage Sites, but they’re banned. You can’t fly drones over the Mayan pyramids in Mexico. They don’t want you crashing a drone in certain areas. And when I fly in Antarctica I have to attach pontoons to the drone, because if I crash it in the water they don’t want plastic into Antarctic waters. They try to keep it pristine. So I’ve designed pontoons that I’ll strap onto the drone,” he says.

Make: magazine says that the most popular quadcopter for aerial photography and filming is a $679 DJI Phantom because it’s ready to fly (RTF) out of the box and designed to hold a GoPro video camera. They are also easily hackable. More budget-friendly options include building one from a kit or from scratch (see makezine.com/projects/the-handycopter-uav-2/ for a drone made with hardware store parts).

Steve Mandel photographed his friend’s DJI Inspire 1 Quadcopter over the Santa Cruz Yacht Harbor with his own drone of the same type.  This model (priced at $2,899) has landing gear that raises up during flight to allow a full 360-degree unobstructed view for the camera attached at the base. (photo by Steve Mandel)

Because it takes some practice to fly well, Make: recommends starting with an inexpensive (less than $100) toy quadcopter without GPS or a camera, like Syma X1, Blade Nano QX. They fly using the same controls and the skills you learn will translate directly to larger aircraft.

Mandel learned to fly with inexpensive off-the-shelf models and kits. “I’d go out at lunch and I’d fly for ten minutes every day. So after a month of practice I learned how to fly it and I got the coordination,” he says. Later he bought components and built drones from scratch. “The mechanical parts—the little motors and everything—are pretty easy. It’s the electronics that are really difficult that you have to learn, because there are video signals that come down from them.”

Scientists and makers around the world are constantly coming up with exciting new uses for drones—from tracking poachers in Nepal, to delivering text books to students in Australia, to performing avant-garde dance moves in New York.

“It’s just kind of infinite what you can do now,” says Mandel. “People are finding all sorts of creative uses for them. It’s just like anything out there—people can do good with it or they can do evil with it. So there has to be regulation and people will do stupid things, so you have to keep an eye on them. But you know, they’re just really, really fun.”

The lawn is gone…now what?

Three ways to save water and still have a fun, 

versatile outdoor living space

Originally published in the Santa Cruz Sentinel, June 5, 2015

Nancy and Mark Voogd stand beside the more hidden of their two triple-spiral labyrinths. The triple-spiral pattern has three round sections connected by one continuous course.

A coworker recently told me that, due to new watering restrictions in her city, her family was thinking about replacing their lawn with artificial turf. With a moderately sized yard in a suburban neighborhood, the professional estimate she got was $10,000 to replace the lawn with synthetic grass. (Really??) To give her a more affordable, and, in my opinion, more preferable option, I showed her a photo of our backyard, where, last fall, we traded lawn and sprinklers, for succulents and a drip system.

 

If you want to replace your lawn, but the alternatives sound too expensive, too challenging, or too activity-limiting, I’d like to present three relatively inexpensive DIY options that will reduce your water bill, while still providing a versatile, pleasing place to hang out on a Sunday afternoon.

The labyrinth

Creating a labyrinth is probably the simplest way to cover a large (or small) space with a minimal investment of time and materials. Labyrinths have ancient origins, and can be found all over the world. Although the term is often used to connote a confusing maze of pathways, the classic labyrinth is actually a large circle or square shape with a single course that twists and turns to lead you to the center and back out again.

I happened upon this labyrinth strewn with red rose petals while
 hiking the trail at Land’s End in San Francisco—a good example of a
unicursal seven-course "Classical" design. The rose petals had been
 added for a wedding portrait photo sessions later in the day.

A labyrinth can be created with various materials including rocks, flat stones, bricks, concrete, herbs, grasses or even raked leaves.  If you Google “backyard labyrinth,” you’ll see the huge variety of materials, patterns and shapes used, and it seems as if no two labyrinths are alike.

Nancy and Mark Voogd live on a forested acre in Bonny Doon and have created two, large, triple-spiral labyrinths on their property—a more private one behind their home and another near the road, easily accessible to walkers and neighbors. Nancy became obsessed with the triple-spiral pattern when she encountered one in a nearby yard. “I was walking the path and thought, ‘I want to be doing this every day.’ I was a quilting, singing, stay-at-home mom—meditation and all of this was not part of my world. But something about this labyrinth just grabbed me,” she says. Four days later she and Mark had built their first labyrinth.

Nancy visits her labyrinth daily, spending 15 minutes or more following or resting on its courses. “I’ve walked other patterns before, and they’re lovely, but there is something about this pattern and my brain. It’s pretty magical actually—I feel so much calmer and happier. It’s just a goofy pattern on the ground, but it’s had a profound effect on my life,” she says. “Sometimes, I’ve gone into it so angry, but I don’t come out angry. It’s hard to hold onto those stories I was angry about. It looks very innocuous, but it’s a powerful experience.”

Although the Voogds appreciate the symbolic and meditative possibilities of labyrinths, they also embrace the fun it can inspire. “I skip, I run, people have crawled. I feel more in my body and listening to whatever my body wants to do on this pattern than on other patterns. I don’t know why that is. It’s for laughing. It’s for playing.  I’ve tried to walk it backwards—that’s hysterical,” says Nancy. Children love it too. “For awhile we had a trampoline, but even with the trampoline the kids would come and run the labyrinth first, and then they would go play on the trampoline,” says Nancy.

The real bonus of landscaping with a labyrinth is its versatility—one can be created in just about any size or shape of available space, using materials you may already have on hand. Although the pathways are typically defined with rocks or paving stones, a labyrinth could also be constructed from found materials such as broken pottery, cut-up tires, pine needles, or landscape edging.

The wildlife sanctuary

My favorite backyard feature in Cathy Gamble’s
 Aptos backyard is her rusty hand-push lawn mower,
 which she retired after replacing her lawn with
 drought-tolerant landscaping three years ago.

The first thing I noticed at Cathy Gamble’s house in Aptos, were the two small signs posted on her the front of her home— “Native Plants Live Here” and “Certified Wildlife Habitat.” She says she’s not trying to brag. She just wants people to be aware of the possibility of creating a wildlife sanctuary in their own yard.

Her relatively small, mature yard was described to me as the picture of what a drought-tolerant garden should be, but I didn’t expect such lush, natural-looking beauty. Cathy says she has a drip system to get new plants established, but otherwise, rarely uses it. Instead, with a combination of California native and non-native drought-tolerant plants, she monitors the water needs of her plants by sight. “I look at the plants to see if they’re looking stressed,” she says,” and water only the ones that really need it.” On the ground, she surrounds her plants with a thick layer of gorilla hair mulch (made from shredded redwood) which prevents them from drying out, and she tries not to do too much manicuring. “I leave it wild to attract grown and feeders,” she says.

Cathy Gamble has three dry creek-beds that
 break-up the landscape, reduce the number
 of plants she needs to water, and also help
 divert rainwater to where it’s most needed.

To kill the lawn, she covered it with cardboard (without much ink) for two months. Then—with the help of two friends—she put landscape cloth over the cardboard to keep down the weeds, and planted California natives that know how to survive in our dry climate, and provide a year-round food source and cover for wildlife, such as California coffeeberry, ceanothus and Manzanita. During my short visit I saw squirrels and lots of birds (she’s counted 38 species of birds in her garden for Project FeederWatch) attracted by the food and protection offered by this small oasis.

Cathy has three dry creek-beds that break-up the landscape and also help divert rainwater to where it’s most needed. Most of her yard is surrounded by trees (rather than fences) to add privacy and cut down on the drying effects wind. My favorite backyard feature is her rusty hand-push lawn mower, which has been retired to a soft bed of mulch with a sign that reads “R.I.P.”

The patchwork quilt

When we let our lawn die last summer, I studied Pam Penick’s helpful book “Lawn Gone” for ideas about what to do next. In September, my husband began digging up the dead sod. At a workshop at Native Revival Nursery, I learned that we could leave the dead sod in place and use chunks of it to build mounds for our future landscape. I hired a landscaper who also works at Succulent Gardens in Castroville, and she drew out the plans for a raised island of succulents in the center, surrounded by a wide gravel pathway, and more succulents and ornamental grasses around the perimeter.

My patchwork quilt of colorful succulents has grown
 and flowered impressively since it was planted
 about six months ago. Succulents are naturally
 drought-resistant and look great all summer long.

We saved money by doing much of the heavy lifting ourselves—digging out tired plants, choosing new ones, and hauling fresh garden soil from the driveway to completely cover the dead sod and improve the soil. My landscaper converted the sprinklers to a drip system, which I use sparingly now that the plants are more established. Large succulents can be expensive, so we purchased mostly small ones, many of which have grown quickly enough to fill in the spaces. (Succulents can also be easily rooted from cuttings.) The wide gravel pathways reduced the number of plants we needed to purchase, and, in one corner of the yard, the path transitions into a small gravel patio.

The colors and variety of succulents reminds me of a patchwork quilt, and I couldn’t be happier with my new low-maintenance, low-water garden. I’m currently thinking about creating some pebble mosaic stepping stones to break-up the gravel. Stay tuned.

Big Fish
Gamcheon Culture Village in Busan, South Korea inspires community art in Aromas, California

Originally published May 1, 2015 in the Santa Cruz Sentinel

Round my hometown
Ooh the people I've met
Are the wonders of my world       

 –Adele

The “Big Fish” was created by over 200 residents and friends of Aromas in the fall and winter
 of 2014-15. and installed in the Aromas Town Square Park on April 12, 2015.

There are many people I regard as unsung heroes in my home town. As hard-working members of unglamorous boards and committees, or just self-appointed organizers, they work tirelessly, with little or no compensation, to bring our community closer together. They create social gatherings, concerts, workshops, classes, festivals, talent nights, fund-raising events and food distribution centers. They plan soccer fields and buy Christmas gifts for those in need. They give us tasks to do, and forgive us when we let them down. They make us feel like we truly belong.

So what is this “sense of community” they are chasing and why is it so important? A recent article by Virginia Sole-Smith in Real Simple magazine makes the case that face-to-face connections are rapidly declining in favor of social networking and isolation. And the daily cycle of home-to-work-to-couch-to-bed keeps us unconnected, distrustful and even, unhealthy.

Sole-Smith shares some disheartening statistics:

• The last quarter of the 20^th century saw a drop of a 33 percent in the number of people who regularly invite friends over and a 58 percent drop in the number who join community clubs and actually attend meetings.
• In the 1960s, half of Americans said they trusted other people, even strangers; less than a third say so today.
• 25 percent of us lack a single close confidant (defined as someone with whom you can discuss “important matters”), while 50 percent of us are just one friend away from social isolation—and social isolation is a strong predictor of premature death.

Nested high in the hills of Busan, my family enjoys a delicious
 breakfast with a great view of the colorful homes and maze of
 alleyways in Gamcheon Culture Village. While the villagers had for
 decades painted their own homes in pastel hues, artists added
 dozens of colorful touches throughout the town, attaching
 nicknames such as “Korea’s Santorini” and “Lego Village.”

Most of our group-living now happens online, but Facebook can’t substitute for the safety and security that comes from living in a community where your neighbors watch out for you and know your kids’ names. Likewise, shopping online and in big-box stores has contributed to a loss of community interdependence. Big corporations like Amazon and Wal-Mart have replaced the merchants and crafts people who we might have gotten to know in local shops, and limited opportunities for running into friends and neighbors.

One family profiled by Sole-Smith, however, took a dramatic leap of faith and used Facebook to broaden their face-to-face associations. Feeling like they never saw their friends and neighbors between the demands of work and home, the family posted an open invitation on Facebook for Friday night spaghetti and meatball dinners at their home. Anyone was welcome at their table, and they kept the meal prep and housekeeping to a minimum. The priority was spending more time with their village. (Now the idea has gone global, and stories of its success are posted on FridayNightMeatballs.com, whose motto is “Building community, one dinner at a time.”) I’m truly astounded by the willingness and trust it takes to make this kind of continuing commitment in the name of community.

The big fish in Gamcheon Culture Village in Busan, South Korea, was created collaboratively by artists
 and many of its 10,000 residents as part of an art-themed make-over of the suburb in 2009-10 by the
 the South Korean Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism.  The 2009-10 project—originally named "Dreaming
 of Machu Picchu in Busan”—resulted in an adventure of discovery for visitors willing to wander
through the hillside labyrinth in search of art. Installations include trompe-l’oeil cut-outs, sculpture, mosaics,
 murals, and even rooms remodeled around a singular art concept, such as “peace” or “darkness.”

Last year, my husband discovered another great example of community-building on the other side of the globe. We flew to South Korea—the country our 20-year-old daughter has chosen to call home after a ten-month stay there as a Watsonville Rotary-sponsored exchange student in 2011-12. We visited several cities, but our favorite was Busan—a modern metropolis of 3.6 million at the southern-most tip of the Korean peninsula.

Gamcheon Culture Village after the Korean War.   

Gamcheon Culture Village today.

In addition to experiencing the beautiful beaches, glamorous department stores, fascinating fish markets, cat cafes, and sweet potato pizza, we also visited Gamcheon Culture Village – a residential community of colorful, box-shaped homes terraced on a steep hillside overlooking the southern coastline. In contrast to Busan’s glittering high-rises, Gamcheon Culture Village has retained its traditional look and identity, housing many of Busan’s less-affluent since the early 20^th century. What makes it a tourist destination is the art-themed make-over it received in 2009-10, when the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism in South Korea invited artists and art students to add murals, sculpture and art installations to the village.

Most impressive to me was the fact that much of the artwork was created collaboratively by artists and village residents. One of the best products of this teamwork was the painted wooden fish, posted along the narrow pathways to guide tourists through the hillside labyrinth of art and homes. These same small fish were also arranged on a tall retaining wall in the shape of a very large fish, creating a colorful backdrop for tourist selfies.

Aromas School fifth graders painted fish for the project.

In the history museum, a photograph showed the villagers seated at long tables, painting the fish together—an opportunity to meet neighbors and form new alliances as their village was in transition. (The village make-over also included establishing a community center, residents’ association, maintenance group, public relations office, village businesses, and music and arts workshops—making the tourist invasion a little more welcome.)

Before our trip to South Korea, one of the community-builders in my own hometown came to my arts group and proposed that we create an art installation for Aromas’s Town Square Park. We scratched our heads and worried about vandalism.

After my trip to South Korea, I showed photos of Gamcheon Culture Village and proposed that Aromas, as a community, could create a large fish mosaic of our own. With the guidance and commitment of a few dedicated volunteers, and the participation of about 200 community members and their friends, we were able to paint 350 fish over a five-month period and finally install the big fish in the park last month.

The Aromas community had several opportunities to paint
 fish at various Grange events such as the pancake breakfasts
and holiday arts festival.

And so, like Gamcheon, my village sat together—young and old, elbow to elbow—to paint fish and get to know each other a little bit better. The finished product has also drawn us together, as we congregate at the park to find our individual fish and admire the others—all swimming along together.

Just last weekend, I was thrilled when our spring talent show, Aromas Live, used an image of the Big Fish on the program cover and recognized its completion. Perhaps the Big Fish will serve as a symbol of a small town devoted to creating a sense of community. Perhaps, as we drive by the park on our way home, we will now turn our heads and smile at the colorful reminder of how fortunate we are to live in a place where we feel like we truly belong.

Wet fish dry in the sun—a contribution to the Aromas Big Fish
 from an intercession arts class at our local Anzar High School.

High Style in Freedom and beyond

Originally published April 3, 2015 in the Santa Cruz Sentinel

“It’s never a good idea to start a small business. People see you
 as ‘living your dream,’ but It’s been really hard,” says Carla Goldman.
 But she’s been making it work, and providing Santa Cruz County
with fine fabrics for 18 years.

Carla Goldman makes you want to buy. We wander through her home decor section, hung with heavy rolls of sample fabrics made in Europe for American fashion designers. Goldman buys these bolts in San Francisco—the leftovers after designers have placed their orders for the season. She jumps quickly from one fabric to the next, explaining why each one is so extraordinary. “This guy from Belgium does a lot of samples,” she says. “These fabrics are still in Ralph Lauren’s line. So when he kinda gets extra he’ll call me and that’s cool.”

She moves on. “This is a Belgium linen and this is a Belgium linen. I sell these at $26 [a yard] and these are $105 in the book.” She moves again.  “And then we get something like this that’s just outrageously gorgeous and it’s $18.”

We walk across her shop to the clothing fabrics. “As you can see here, this is a fabric from Germany,” she says, unfurling a roll of fabric sitting upright in a barrel. “So this is a beautiful hybrid—a wood fiber that has been treated to the point of stretching.” 

Elsa Schiaparelli and Andre Perugia,
evening ensemble and shoes, 1933-1935.

“And then this is a rayon that I burn to see what kind of poly and synthetics are in it. And they’ve done it so perfectly, I can’t get any synthetic in the burn. This is very rare to have German fabrics,” she says. When Goldman buys her samples fabrics, the labels are often removed, so she tests it for fiber content. Synthetic fibers like polyester will usually melt. Natural fibers will burn.

I’m caught up in her enthusiasm for fabric content and quality. I’ve browsed in Crossroad Fabrics on and off over the years, but have rarely bought anything. It dawns on me now that I didn’t really know what I was looking at.

Crossroad Fabrics is hard to find in its newest location because it’s not where you’d expect it to be. It shares a corrugated metal building on Airport Blvd. in Freedom with a plumber and a motorcycle repair shop. The ceilings are high and the floors are concrete. Most of the bolts of fabrics are on long rolls which you have to pull out from a stack to really see. Other bolts stand on end in barrels around the store. There are no pattern books and a limited supply of notions.

A seamstress since age 7, Goldman honed her sewing skills at Watsonville High School under the tutelage of Diane Severin and Mary Kay Chapel in the late 70s. “We had a wonderful sewing program at Watsonville. They forced me to clean up my sewing. I still French seam my clothing,” she says, showing me the inside of her sleeve. After graduation, with “starry eyes,” she enrolled in the Fashion Institute in San Francisco, but a career in fashion design never worked out.

At the “High Style” exhibit in San Francisco, I wanted to feel
 the silky textures and weights of these luxurious fabrics.
 Yes, the designs were iconic and highly influential, but it
 seemed to me that the success of many garments depended
 in large part on the fabrics chosen. Memorable examples
 were the soft and shimmering gold lame dress by
 Jeanne Lanvin from 1923, the 1930s emerald green
 silk faille evening ensemble woven with metallics by
 Elsa Schiaparelli, and the 1950 fuschia and gold silk sari
evening dress by the American designer, Mainbocher.

Instead she bought a fabric store, and for the last 18 years has been selling high-quality fabrics to the various sewing demographics of Santa Cruz County, and especially Watsonville: wealthy farm families who collect fashion ideas as they travel; a younger group sewing sportswear and inspired by Pinterest; young Latin-American women who want to make things that fit better and were taught to sew without a pattern; those who like to sew the occasional blouse or want to have something unique to wear to a party; costume-makers for holidays, performances and events like Halloween, Renaissance Faire, cosplay or baile folklorico; a few quilters; and, of course, those who sew just because it’s creative and fun. “Sewing is definitely a spiritual thing to do for yourself,” says Goldman.

***

I kept my eyes out for unique fabrics when I recently saw “High Style”—the current special exhibit at San Francisco’s Legion of Honor—which traces the evolution of fashion with 125 influential pieces from 1910 to 1980.  I was fascinated by the variety of fabrics used in 20^th century women’s clothing—many of which I didn’t even know how to pronounce. There were dresses made from silk faille (/fīl/—a soft, light-woven fabric having a ribbed texture), evening ensembles made from silk charmeuse (a soft light-weight fabric woven so that the front is lustrous and reflective) with filet lace (a decorative netting), and hats made from fur felt (apparently rabbits, beaver and nutria are the contributors).

You can’t help but wonder what it must have felt like to be the original wearer of these lovely creations at their debut. I was drawn to the everyday sportswear—a fresh concept born in Depression Era America, created by a pioneering group of American women designers who understood that women wanted greater comfort and adaptability in their clothing, with fewer costume changes. Bless their hearts for setting in motion the concept of unpretentious, functional, yet chic clothing made from washable fabrics.

And then there were the iconic evening ensembles by famous designers like Dior, Chanel, and Givenchy—undoubtedly intended to make a woman feel stylish, sophisticated and sexy, in equal measure.

This 1953 strapless “Four-Leaf Clover” ball gown by Charles James
—a voluminous show-stopper that took up quite of bit of museum
 real estate—wowed the audience with barely a hint of the
 architectural superstructure underneath. By all accounts, James
 was a fine artist who just happened to choose fabric as his medium.

But imagine your entrance in one of those celebrated ball gowns (typically designed by men). Would that have been a Cinderella moment or something else entirely? The strapless “Four-Leaf Clover” ball gown by Charles James—a voluminous show-stopper that took up quite of bit of museum real estate—wowed the audience with barely a hint of the architectural superstructure underneath. James’ shaped his four-leaf clover skirts from layers of nylon mesh, feather-boning, buckram (coarse linen stiffened with paste), and horsehair braid, with each dress weighing 10 pounds or more.

***

The labels on clothing today with longer fabric-content lists, made me think that fabric has changed a lot since I first learned to sew, combining more types of fibers. All fabrics seem to have been made stretchier with the addition of Spandex. Carla Goldman set me straight. “Are you telling me the ice skaters in the 1950s didn’t wear Spandex? It’s just a brand name, it’s a label. We’ve always had stretchy fabrics. Labeling textiles has only been [required] in the last 15 years. You might have been buying it before.”

She reminds me that fashion (like the fabric it’s made from) is always moving forward, but it’s also tied to the past. “Fashion’s a massive circle; it’s constantly looping around. What goes around comes around.”

Jeanne Lavin, evening dress,
Spring/Summer, 1923.

All photos provided by Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, except Carla Goldman portrait by Tina Baine.

  

High Style: The Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection

March 14 – July 19, 2015, Legion of Honor, San Francisco

Visit Legionofhonor.org for more information.

Why see a fashion collection? Clothing is all about popular culture and social history. It tells the story of status and gender distinctions, social mores and behavior patterns, and how and why all of these societal standards change over time. Clothing provides examples of America’s shifting economy and technologies. It’s about American priorities, allegiances, and rebellion. As the curator, Jan Glier Reeder said, “The importance of looking at historic forms is that if you don’t understand what came before, you can’t really understand where you are today.”

The fabulous Maker Faire Bay Area-- a family-friendly festival of invention, creativity and resourcefulness, and a celebration of the Maker movement—is coming up May 16 and 17, at the San Mateo Event Center. A small group of organizers in Santa Cruz County is putting together a mini Maker Faire for 2016 at the Santa Cruz County Fairgrounds, and is looking for more volunteers. For more information contact Miguel Aznar at miguelfaznar@gmail.com. Their next meeting is tentatively planned by Sunday, April 12.