Milkweed Field of Dreams

Last month was Sac Open Studios - it was my first time registering as a participant and I was eager to connect with local folks and feel a bit more grounded here in Sacramento. But unfortunately due to scheduling conflicts I had to fly to DC the same weekend and so was absent from Open Studios, which meant that my studio was open but I was not there. It felt like a wasted opportunity, but I still had faith that something good would come from it - and sure enough, something really good manifested this past week.

A local artist named Esme had visited my studio and bought some hanji while I was out of town. After I returned from DC, Esme reached out again to buy more hanji, so I got to meet her in person. We chatted for maybe 5 minutes, during which time I shared how it would be a dream to find alternative, native plant material to make paper. She mentioned that she knew somebody who works at a local farm that grows milkweed for seed, and said she would put us in touch via email. A couple weeks later, I was driving to Winters to meet with Julia, an ecologist at Heathrow Farms.

Julia holding cut-up plant fiber with seeds mixed in with sticks and grass. This mix needed to be processed through their machinery to separate out the seeds, which are then sold for ecological restoration projects across the state.

Julia kindly showed me the production facility at Heathrow Farms, where they sell seeds to local restoration projects across the state of California. It was fascinating to see all these machines which were basically like giant mechanized sieves that separated out the seed from the chafe. The very kind farmers turned the machine on so I could see it in action.

Julia showing me milkweed stems that had been cut up for compost - she thought this is what I wanted to use for papermaking.

Julia found some milkweed stalks that had been cut up for compost and thought that this was what I wanted to use for papermaking. I had brought a sample of a dak branch which helped her to see that I wanted the stalk intact. Meanwhile we visited another part of the farm, and came across a beautiful fluffy field of milkweed floss that another farmer was processing for seed.

Mountains of fluffy milkweed floss

Julia jumping in a field of milkweed floss - she couldn’t help herself

Then we hopped in my car and drove down the road to another part of the farm so Julia could show me the milkweed field. I was prepared to just snap a few pics and maybe take one small sample home. But upon arrival, Julia realized that the milkweed had already been processed - the seed pods were removed and what was left was a field of stalks, which were no longer of use to the farm.

Me, giddy with excitement, holding a sickle in front of the milkweed field

Julia called the farm manager and found out that they were going to clear out the field that afternoon, and said I could go ahead and take as many stalks as I wanted. I was totally unprepared to spend the morning harvesting milkweed, so we drove back to the farm headquarters and I borrowed gloves and a sickle, and got some water. Thankfully I had packed a hat and sunglasses and a banana for sustenance. I also had brought Aimee’s zine, Making Milkweed Paper, which I was referencing with religious fervor all morning.

I felt so much gratitude for being out in that field, and marveled at how the universe granted my wish. My friend Lisa always reminds me that it’s important to set your intentions, and that the universe conspires to make your dreams come true.

It was super hot that day, and I worked for about 2 hours before calling it quits. After gathering all the stalks, I glanced out at the field which looked like I hadn’t even touched it. Here’s a photo of my haul when I got home:

I’ve been working through the following two resources, along with text messages from various papermaking friends (Michelle, Aimee, Radha) who have given me tips on how to process all of this material. Though I’ve participated in past dak harvests at Oakdale (the papermaking production facility at Iowa) I’ve never actually steamed dak or any other bast fiber myself, so I am grateful for any advice I can get.

I also wasn’t planning to be harvesting and processing all of this plant material this week. But I am super grateful to Hedgerow Farms for so generously sharing this bounty, and excited for future collaboration with the farm. This year will be very experimental and I will test to see how all of this pans out, and if all goes well it would be great to coordinate with the farm next year and organize a proper harvest and hopefully involve more folks in the process. Meanwhile I’ll post again to share how all of this gets processed this week and hopefully made into paper; stay tuned.

소원, Hope: Hanji Workshop #4 Recap

The final hanji workshop was a wonderful and diverse gathering of energetic, inquisitive individuals who were eager to share, learn, and experience hanji.

Me in my studio during the orientation. Photo courtesy of Roger Kim.

For this workshop, I added dak scraping to the list of stations (in addition to beating and sheetforming). Participants seemed to really enjoy using the dak knife to scrape the layers of bark. This is one of the most laborious and tedious and time-consuming steps of preparing dak for hanji-making. For some reason this workshop had an inordinate number of older Korean women participants, and somehow it seemed fitting to see many of them sitting on the floor, chatting and laughing while scraping dak.

One of my favorite moments was when I talked about how natural formation aid comes from smashing the roots of a plant called hibiscus manihot, which releases a slimy, viscous mucilage that gets added to the vat. Afterwards, a participant asked if you could add marshmallows to the vat as a formation aid. I imagined opening a bag of marshmallows and emptying it into the vat and mixing it around. At some point while attempting to answer her question, I realized she was talking about the marsh mallow plant, not marshmallows the food. 

After the hands-on portion of the workshop, participants went inside, had snacks, and filled out surveys. Then we went around the room and participants could choose to share an answer to one of the survey questions with the group. One participant shared her answer to the question, "Do you have an object, food, song, memory, word, something that is meaningful to you that connects you to your Korean heritage? What is it and why is it meaningful to you?" The memory she shared was a song, which she sang for us: "우리의 소원은 통일" which translates to "Our hope is in reunification." She shared how she grew up in Korea in the 70s and remembers singing this song every day at school, how this longing for reunification was very much present and alive as she had family in North Korea. I had recently watched the documentary Crossings which a member of my art collective, Coleen, had recommended (she was a member of the delegation organized by Women Cross DMZ). Hearing this song and reflecting on the efforts for peace that activists, especially women, have been advocating for a long time, stirred something in me despite I myself not having any family in North Korea. The stark reality of an ongoing war and militarization of the peninsula, and US complicity in this reality, is an undeniable component of our identity as members of the Korean diaspora. 

Pile of dak + hanji leftovers generated during workshops

As this was the final hanji workshop of the series, I am now sitting (metaphorically and literally) with piles of hanji generated during the workshops. My heart, head, and arms are full. I’m grateful to the City of Sacramento Office of Arts + Culture for the opportunity to work on this project, and hopeful for more support to continue this work. So much gratitude for every single participant who came through with their whole hearts and believed in the significance of this experience.

I'll continue to post on this blog with reflections and updates on this project; for now, I am turning my attention to other projects, namely an upcoming show with aforementioned KAAC. I am working hard to finish my piece for the exhibit. As I work on this piece, which involves long periods of hand-stitching, I carry all of these experiences in my heart and infuse them in my work, in all that I do, in my very being. This is at least my intention and hope.

On Generosity and Free Gifts: Hanji Workshop #3 Recap

I am always struck by who comes out to these hanji workshops, and why. This weekend I was particularly struck by the diversity of the Korean diaspora represented at the gathering, and had a moment of sheer amazement and gratitude that this group was sharing space in my home.

In this group we had Koreans who were born in Korea, Koreans who grew up in Korea, Koreans who were adopted, Koreans who were raised in mostly white neighborhoods, Koreans who are mixed race, queer Koreans, trans Koreans, young Koreans, older Koreans. Koreans who had never been to Korea; Koreans who longed for the Motherland. We had a Korean baker, a doctor, a ceramicist, a photographer, a mixed martial artist, a curator. We all shared a common desire to explore our Korean identity through craft and community. As I keep doing these workshops I realize how rare and special it is to host spaces such as these.

Thanks to friends and community members who came out to assist before and during this workshop: Deb, who beat the dak; Rana, who stirred and assisted at the webal vat; and Stella, who documented throughout and took these wonderful portraits (above) of all the participants from the workshop. I should also thank my daughter Winnie too, who participated in the workshop but also wanted to keep her position as Deckle Box Specialist:

I think a lot about my choice to make these workshops free for participants. Yes I received grant funding from the City of Sacramento, but the funding does not cover the entirety of the offerings. I have been thinking a lot about the concept of gift-giving and revisiting "The Gift" by Lewis Hyde: "For most artists, the actual working life of art does not fit well into a market economy." What is the alternative, especially given the high cost of living here in California? I have been wrestling and working through this question a lot this year. Part of this work involves making observations, and one thing I observed especially after this past workshop was how much I received in exchange for what I offered for free. Participants brought physical gifts of homemade granola, jam, maesil syrup, and scones. Friends freely offered labor and time. Everybody generously shared their responses to survey questions and participated in the group discussion, each story a gift. 

How can we reimagine the practice and commerce of art as a gift exchange? To be continued…

Natural Dye Workshop at Fibershed: June 25, 2023

Last month I had the opportunity to take a natural dye workshop at Fibershed, a wonderful non-profit org that I learned about from my papermaking friend and colleague Michelle Wilson. I was excited to learn about harvesting plants for color, and particularly wanted to learn about the native plants here in California that could be used for papermaking and dyeing. After spending some time at Fibershed, I realized I have barely scratched the surface and have a long way to go in my exploration.

The instructor’s dyed samples

Our teachers, Heidi and Allison, were both founding and/or early members of Fibershed and knew a ton about natural dyeing. We started by looking at Heidi’s samples and dye journal. I had brought some paper that was made at the hanji workshop the day before, and was excited to create color samples on hanji.

After looking at samples, we took a walk around the beautiful grounds. I was inspired by the instructors' knowledge of all the different plants and how to harvest them for color. We walked by rows of Japanese indigo plants, though we did not dye with indigo at the workshop.

We came back to the main classroom area and the instructors worked on creating dye baths from the freshly cut plants. They also showed us the dye baths that they had previously prepared. There were 7 or 8 different dye baths; I was impressed by the instructor's excitement and eagerness to prepare many different colors, though I was also pretty overwhelmed by the number of dyes as well as different types of samples. They were quite challenging to keep track of and required careful labeling, color-coding, and note-taking. Altogether we dyed with acacia, marigold, cochineal, loquat leaves, horsetail, redwood cones, eucalyptus, and mugwort.

After lunch we began submerging our fabrics (and paper) into the various dye baths:

Workshop participants hanging their dyed samples to dry

It was a very windy day and somewhat damp and chilly. Another workshop participant also brought papers to dye; our colored samples billowed in the wind and took a bit of time to dry between applications:

At the end of the workshop the instructors allowed us to take home leftover dye. I eagerly took home a liter of each dye that produced the best results on my paper samples. Unfortunately after I got home, I was super busy and unable to use the dyes right away, and then traveled for 3 weeks. By the time I got back home, most of the dyes had gotten moldy. Still, I used a couple liters to dye some thai dak pulp in walnut leaf dye and redwood cone dye, as well as cochineal, in preparation for the upcoming hanji workshop.

It was super satisfying to know that so many local and native plants produce color. As for so many crafts with centuries of tradition, I wish I had more time to dedicate to deepening my knowledge of and experience with natural dyes. My hope is that this endeavor will happen organically as we settle into our home in Sac and establish a garden in our backyard. I also look forward to sharing this exploration with my kiddos. 

My dyed paper, fabric, and thread samples from the workshop.

I was happy to turn off my instructor brain and allow myself to enjoy being a student, though the experience reiterated for me how much the labor and value of teaching workshops, on top of the vast expertise and years of experience that so many craft instructors carry and share, is figuring out working instructional methods and streamlining and preparing and balancing and creating a conducive learning environment, all within a limited timeframe. From personal experience I know that anything beyond the bare minimum (which is already a lot of labor) is pure gift. Deep bows of gratitude to Heidi and Allison, and all of my previous workshop and class instructors that I’ve ever learned from.

"I didn't understand a word. But I felt safe": Hanji Workshop #2 Recap

Another wonderful workshop today with a new group of Koreans, this time mostly local folks from Sacramento.

Some especially magical moments during today's workshop:

One participant spent the majority of the time working on a piece of dak lace which she embedded into a sheet made with dyed pulp in the deckle box. She spent a long time working on this sheet! Can't wait to see how it turns out once it is dry.

Two members of the Korean American Artist Collective joined today's workshop. One member came all the way from DC, while the other came from SF with her mom. Fostering this community of Korean American artists has been a project near and dear to my heart, though mostly the community building has taken place virtually. It was very special to be together in person.

I tried two new things for today's workshop: one was a new webal screen (that I purchased on Amazon) and the other was dyed pulp (which I wrote about in the previous post). 

The Amazon screen was a fail - the pulp did not settle on the screen evenly, and I could not couch (transfer the sheet off the screen) consistently. I will write more about the Amazon screen in a separate future post. because it is turning into a SAGA. 

As for the dyed pulp, it was great! I'm looking forward to experimenting with more dyes and coloring pulp again for the next workshop. 

Though my mom was supposed to translate portions of the workshop into Korean and had spent a long time preparing notes, she sort of bailed at the last minute. Ironically during the sharing time towards the end, one participant shared in Korean and I wondered if we needed somebody to translate into English. Though my Korean is not great (see previous post), I knew enough to recognize some key words like 그리움 (longing) and 사랑 (love). 

On that note, here is another survey response that resonated with me. The question was, “Do you have an object, food, song, memory, word, something that is meaningful to you that connects you to your Korean heritage?”

The Limitations of Language. Also, Dyeing Pulp.

For the next hanji workshop which is coming up soon, I offered to have a translator on site. The translator is my mom. She is nervous about translating and asked me to write a script of what I am going to say. I am realizing how much work necessarily goes into making community events more accessible and inclusive.

I made it pretty clear from the beginning that these workshops overall would take place in English. My Korean sucks and I have been on quite a journey in my relationship with my language skills or lack thereof. It used to fill me with such shame and embarrassment (and still sometimes does). As a perfectionist it is hard for me to practice the language when I know I am not speaking 100% accurately or naturally. I see that in my daughter too - the unwillingness to try for fear of making mistakes - and I wish for her sake that I would just overcome my shyness and performance anxiety and try to speak Korean. That said, there’s no way I could adequately express everything in Korean for this workshop, and I am okay with that. I have since met loads of diasporic Koreans who are like me, mourning the loss or lack of Korean language ability, coming to terms with it in various ways, making efforts here and there (or not). My kids are in Korean camp this summer and I am hopeful that at least their exposure to the language and culture will instill in them a love of their heritage, and that they would be filled not with shame but with pride, curiosity, and a sense of home.

Other preparations this week (aside from the translation) involved mordanting and coloring dak with natural dye. During last week’s workshop, we brush-dyed hanji with 감물 gammul - persimmon juice. The feedback I got was that there were too many activities and not enough time to take them all in. So this time I am going to try to prep some naturally dyed pulp in advance for folks to make colored paper in the deckle boxes.

To dye the pulp, here is what I did. (btw everything i know about dyeing pulp, I learned from Radha Pandey.) First of all I should say that the dak that I am using was beaten during last weekend’s workshop. I have no idea how long the participants beat the dak but it’s questionable how well it was beaten. Anyway, I did a two-step mordanting process - first soaking the pulp in a hot tannin (gallnut) solution, then rinse, then soaking in a hot soda ash + alum solution, then rinse. (process images shown above.)

Meanwhile I prepared a few dyes using whatever I have on hand. (see photos above.) I had a bunch of leftover logwood chips and gardenia fruit that I had already used last year to extract dye. Because I am cheap and lazy resourceful and efficient, I used them again this time. I was curious about using black beans which I have never dyed with. I divided up the mordanted dak and soaked it in the different dye baths for several hours, then rinsed. We’ll see how it goes.

When I first conceived of this project, I thought I would have a vibrant natural dye garden in my backyard. Well the garden hasn’t happened yet, but I am hoping next year will be the year that I start to harvest beautiful colors from my backyard. As part of my research for this grant I am taking a one-day natural dyeing workshop at Fibershed in Point Reyes this coming Sunday. I’m looking forward to sharing some of my learnings here and bringing them into subsequent workshops along with my own studio practice.

Courage & Showing Up: Hanji Workshop #1 Recap

It was a wonderful first workshop gathering, and my heart is full. Here are some snapshots from the morning:

Definitely some things to tweak for next time, but overall I thought it was a great group. I appreciated every single participant who showed up and engaged in such an open and courageous way.

After some hands-on studio time outside, everybody came in to have snacks and fill out a survey. This was one of my favorites, by a 7-year-old who came with his dad:

One participant shared that they almost bailed, even though at first they were so eager to attend. Fear or uncertainty of being in an all-Korean space, perhaps in anticipation of a discussion about Korean identity and having to face some questions, are feelings to which I too can relate. It is my default response to avoid, tense up, or feel hella awkward around Koreans and in all-Korean spaces. It’s been a journey of coming to terms with my identity, since having kids and choosing an art form so deeply tied to my Korean heritage. I am learning how to connect my love of paper to a love and appreciation of my culture, heritage, and family. I am grateful for participants showing up and sharing so vulnerably…hopeful that these spaces help folks feel less alone, like we are journeying together.

creations from the hanji workshop

Behind the Scenes: Connection through Preparation

I have a friend named Deb who is a physician and doesn’t have to go in to work on Thursdays. She is one of my only Korean American friends in Sacramento. Over the past few years, she has come out to help pretty much every time I set up to make hanji (which typically only happens once or twice a year). At this point she has pretty much performed every step of the process - she has assembled my hanji vat, stirred the vat, beaten dak for hours, plus plenty of other tasks. She claims she knows nothing about papermaking but she knows far more than the average person. So much of “knowing about papermaking” frankly is doing a whole lot of repetitive, manual labor.

Deb is an ideal helper in that she genuinely enjoys the work. I asked her recently if she thinks she would still come out to help if I were doing some other form of labor-intensive craft, even Western-style papermaking. She thought about it and after a while, said nope - somehow what is compelling for her is that I am making Korean paper, that there is a connection to our shared heritage. Her answer made sense to me too, and probably explains why I too do all of this work to make Korean paper.

Winnie loves when Deb 이모 comes over but I also have to explain to Winnie that Deb 이모 is here to work, and that she could maybe play during lunchtime. I love how Deb plays with my daughter and includes her in the work. There is a natural ease and connection among friendship, family, community, and work, that I hope makes a strong positive impression on Winnie. I hope she remembers how friends and community folks would show up and laugh and work hard and chat and take breaks together, and that this is totally normal.

Aside from all of the physical work of preparing for the first hanji workshop (preparing fiber and other raw materials, setting up the outdoor studio space, cleaning, etc) there has also been a lot of thought and consideration into how to best facilitate the short time that we have together (the workshop is only 3 hours long). I worked with my mom (“Mimi”) to translate a survey that I am having all participants fill in during the workshop. While meeting with Mimi, I wondered aloud how she would answer questions like “How would you describe your relationship to your Korean heritage in one word?” Secretly I wonder how my parents feel about this work that I am doing with the Korean American community, and hope that it would bridge some gaps between me and my parents and family.

I wasn’t sure where participants should write their survey responses and wanted to incorporate hanji somehow. In the end, I decided to have participants write their responses on leftover hanji, which feels like an appropriate material for holding words and drawings, however unformed and messy.

Beginning

Welcome to this area of my website, where I share field notes, photos, handwritten notes, drawings, scans, videos, and more (?) in an effort to document and archive a series of hanji workshops for the local Korean diaspora that I am facilitating this summer, thanks to a grant from the City of Sacramento Office of Arts & Culture. The culmination of this project will be a physical journal of notes, samples, fragments, and survey responses collected during the course of the summer - which I also hope to digitize and share here somehow. The hope is that these workshops will be generative and will build community as well as lay the foundation for future work. These are the overall intentions though I am keeping an open mind and heart. For now, here is a note that I wrote on hanji, the night before the very first workshop:

a note written on hanji