If you gathered together all the shades of blue in the world and picked the bluest, the epitome of blue, this was the color you would choose.
‍—Haruki Murakami

Indigo is the epitome of blue. It has been used in the dyeing of textiles for thousands of years. Evidence of indigo use has been found in early Egyptian textiles from around 4000 BCE. However, more recent finds suggest that Peruvian blue yarns from around 6000 BCE may be the oldest extant specimens to date.^I Some of the first evidence of indigo-dyed papers are found in Japan, which has historic hand-papermaking and indigo traditions.

There is no single origin for indigo. It can be derived from plants or chemically formulated. Regardless of the source, the dye stuffs created are virtually indistinguishable and are both generated by way of an intricate chemical dance involving precursors, enzymes, reduction, fermentation, and oxidation. Naturally derived indigo is obtained from a variety of plant families, genera, and species, with some of those most commonly known as Indigofera and woad. Indigo-producing plants have grown naturally and been cultivated in temperate, tropical, and subtropical climates all over the world.²

Every part of the world with a historical presence of indigo has its own unique history and cultural traditions for formulating and using indigo pigment and dye. Local indigo producers and dyers would engage in the process based on customary roles, station, age, and gender. Regardless of location, indigo’s allure and the complexities of the process have lent many of its makers and dyers a certain level of prestige. Its secrets are often kept close and, in many cases, only passed down generationally, further creating mystery around the creation of a successful vat.

History and current-day practices show us that people all over the world have adorned themselves with indigo pastes and dyes.³ Tattooing with indigo has been practiced in parts of Asia, Africa, and the Arabian Peninsula, just to name a few. In pre-Columbian times indigo paint was applied to the bodies of Mayans and Aztecs of Central America in spiritual or sacrificial ceremonies. It is commonly believed that woad paste was painted on the bodies of ancient Briton warriors. Indigo pigment has also been used in the creation of paint and ink used in frescoes and watercolors, as well as the decoration of manuscripts and pottery. The dye has been used for coloring leather and in bookmaking.

Of the natural dyes, indigo’s particular chemistry makes it suitable for both vegetable and animal fibers. Unlike other dyes that deeply penetrate the fiber, indigo collects on the surface of the fiber, with each successive dip yielding a deeper shade of blue. The amazing range of color that occurs with the successive dips is unique to this process and moves from a chalky, clear light blue to a rich navy blue, and on to a deep, dark almost metallic red-blue-black.

Throughout history the material properties of indigo have made it an appropriate choice for the coloring of both parchment and paper. The range of colors achieved with indigo dye were found both aesthetically pleasing and, with blue being long considered a spiritual color, indigo was deemed appropriate for religious texts. As with textiles, indigo’s layering and insect-repelling properties were believed to strengthen and increase the durability of paper. Indigo-colored paper later went on to be used for wrapping products, letter-writing paper, and more recently as a medium used by paper artists. Paper pulp can be dyed prior to sheet formation, while formed paper sheets can be brushed with or dipped in indigo dye. Indigo-dyed denim scraps can be recycled into paper pulp to create blue rag paper.

Indigo is available as a natural and synthetically derived dyestuff. Most viewers cannot detect a difference between the two, but some claim to be able to do just that. Perhaps it is the weight and hand resulting from the layers of buildup. Or a greater complexity in color resulting from the other organic components present in the natural indigo or the preparer’s unique additional ingredients. Regardless, this sensibility, along with the desire to be more aligned with nature, has kept the tradition of natural indigo production alive and has inspired many contemporary dyers to try their hand at the setting up of a natural indigo dye vat. Paper artists currently working with synthetic or abbreviated indigo dye processes are achieving compelling results. For some, choosing indigo is based purely on aesthetics, while others find that the aesthetic outcome is complemented by the material and processes involved. For some, using indigo is intangibly tied to their own lineage, connecting the deep history of indigo to their own. Whatever the reason, indigo is a thread of light and color that has inspired a number of contemporary artists to engage with the indigo dyeing process.

Valentin Bakardjiev is a multimedia visual artist and environmental activist currently residing in Amsterdam. His creative practice is fueled by an appreciation of traditional and natural ways of making, as well as a strong sense of responsibility to the health of the earth. Bakardjiev is drawn to blue for its association with the natural world and its dynamic emotional range. Natural indigo revealed itself to be perfectly suited to his recent work Le Grand Bleu. In his experimental garden Bakardjiev grows indigo to use in his own indigo vat. With handmade Japanese papers he utilizes the ancient dyeing technique of shibori (dye resist). Through the application of various layers of semi-translucent patterned paper, he creates an array of textures and levels of depth. Though not always a direct representation of the natural world, Bakardjiev hopes to create a window to a space outside of where we exist. A window to a blue quiet and calm expanse without constraint.

Nature plays a significant role in the work of mixed-media artist Alka Mathur. She combines paper, cloth, and found objects to create abstracted vignettes of nature’s many landscapes, often inspired by the terrain of her home in Rajasthan, India. Mathur began working with natural dyes about twenty years ago after attending a workshop in Bangladesh and immediately found her heart in these natural materials. Upon her return to India, she sought out a natural dyer whom she could learn from and collaborate with. It was at this point her fascination with indigo’s magical nature was born. Mathur celebrates the irregularly textured blue gradient of a hand-dipped sheet by adorning its unique topography with ink and paint. Interactions with local dyers have taught Mathur that increasing interest in natural indigo has led to a revival of its cultivation in India. Mathur says, “Indigo is celebrated in parts of India as it has put India on the world map and the farmers who cultivate and process the ‘Blue Gold’ benefit from the profits, unlike the Colonial Past.”⁴ This revival holds great importance to a country with a significant tradition of textile dyeing and a complex and devastating history of colonial plantation production of indigo.

Living in a rural environment has provided Claudia Waruch with much creative inspiration. She finds herself drawn to any mark-making process that enables her to create an image informed by the pure and organic lines of nature. The smooth, lush quality of Hatakami paper proves a supple surface for the shibori technique. Indigo penetrates the paper in such a way as to leave swirling, velvety marks reminiscent of marble or smoke-stained porcelain. Waruch’s deep appreciation for the culture of recycling found in Japanese boro garments has inspired her to collect her shibori paper scraps and arrange them in richly layered boro garment-inspired assemblages.

Jason Moran is an internationally renowned jazz pianist, composer, and performance artist. In his recent body of work, The Sound Will Tell You, Moran uses handmade paper and pigments in an innovative way, documenting his private piano performances. Various pigments and Japanese gampi papers, several of which have been indigo dyed, are placed on the piano and capture the numerous key attacks of Moran’s private sessions. This body of work was created during the Covid-19 pandemic and in the aftermath of the police killings of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. Moran’s work pulls you into a haunting, deep blue oblivion. The indigo-black sheets are covered in ghostly yet saturated markings conveying a dreamlike reality filled with the anxiety, injustice, and uncertainty of this period.

Adebunmi Gbadebo is a multimedia artist often using handmade paper to address issues involving land and memory in the American South. She uses materials ripe with cultural significance, lending themselves to her inquiry and in the telling of stories of ancestors and others whose histories have been intentionally left out or whose lives were subject to invasive monitoring. In History Papers: True Blue, Gbadebo creates handmade sheets of paper as abstracted, physical documents holding the stories of her enslaved maternal ancestors and others who were forced to grow indigo in southern plantations. When asked about the formation process of these sheets, Gbadebo says, “We as Black people carry this memory, these traditions, in our very bodies.”⁵ She extends these traditions through her practice and how she engages with these materials, specifically indigo, through her own body. Gbadebo’s ancestral research has taken her to Nigeria, the homeland of her father, to better understand her story and these centuries-old traditions that surround indigo in Africa. We see this connection in the materials embedded in her cotton and denim pulp, including human hair collected from Black barber shops. These paperworks are infused with indigo, a color that has a powerful history of use in both the American South and West Africa. ⁶

Maria Amalia was born in Honduras and immigrated to the United States as a young adolescent. She remembers her childhood with great fondness recalling time spent in nature, enjoying countless beautiful sunsets against the blue mountains of Honduras from the back of a pickup truck. Much of her work deals with memory and her experience as a Latina immigrant. Handmade paper has been central to her practice. The handmade paper found in many of her pieces hold the essence and memories of her grandmother. Over several months a grandmother shared her garments and memories with her granddaughter as they cut up these textiles to later be turned into paper. In the lead-up to her work Montañas del Añil, Maria Amalia observed that while creating previous works involving immigration she instinctively gravitated towards indigo but could not explain why.⁷ This realization led to her own investigation into Honduras’ rich, yet troubled history of indigo cultivation. As with other parts of Latin America, indigo was an integral part of Honduran life. In pre-colonial Honduras there was an organic relationship between indigenous textile work and indigo cultivation.

In her piece Comunión, Maria Amalia applied wet paper pulp to a long ten-person table, recreating various textured surfaces reminiscent of those existing within her childhood home. She went on to add color to the surface with pigments, indigo, turmeric, and other colorants. She says, “I thought about the Latina immigrants and their altered identities, living in a white culture, intersectionality, celebration of brokenness, loss, passage of time, and communion.”⁸ Maria Amalia’s use of indigo, with a practice that uses complex color, reflects her experience as a Latina artist living between cultures. Like so many paper artists, she has found a great connection to indigo, and indigo has found a home within her work.

Indigo is a color. It is blue. But it may also be yellow, green, red, purple, and black. It is calming and harmonious. It is sorrowful and still. It is pleasing and seductive. It is all depths of the ocean, and it is ever present in the sky. Indigo is a process. It is a craft. It is an idea. It is a way of life. It gives comfort, and it is home. It is burdened with a problematic past, and it is a color that can bring great joy. It is historically, culturally, economically, and aesthetically complex. Indigo is a story that connects us all.

___________

NOTES

1.
Jeffery Splitstoser, Tom Dillehay, Jan Wouters, Ana Claro, “Early Pre-Hispanic Use of Indigo Blue in Peru,” Science Advances vol. 2 issue 9 (September 2016), https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/sciadv.1501623 (accessed October 2, 2022).

2.
Martin-Leake, H. “An historical memoir of the indigo industry of Bihar,” Economic Botany 29 (1975): 361–371, https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02862183 (accessed August 15, 2022).

3.
The history of indigo’s use on the body is fascinating and rich. For example, its application has been thought to improve the skin’s complexion and tone one’s scalp and hair. Indigo with henna was traditionally used as dye for hair and beards in some parts of India, Pakistan, and the Middle East. Indigo-dyed textiles worn against the skin would result in rub-off, which has been thought to have medicinal properties, acting as antiseptics and insect repellents, and providing overall protection to the wearer and may have been considered an indication of social status. For more, see Jenny Balfour-Paul, Indigo: Egyptian Mummies to Blue Jeans (London: The British Museum Press, 2011 edition). See esp. chap. 9, “In Sickness and in Health.”

4.
Alka Mathur, e-mail message to the author, November 17, 2022.

5.
Adebunmi Gbadebo, phone interview by the author, November 22, 2022.

6.
Editor’s note: For more on Adebunmi Gbadebo, see Adebunmi Gbadebo and Kelly Taylor Mitchell, “Spirit Sisters in Conversation: Papermaking, Memory, and Legacies of the Diaspora,” Hand Papermaking vol. 36, no. 1 (Summer 2021): 24–31.

7.
Maria Amalia, interview by the author, November 15, 2022, Madison, Wisconsin. Her work Montañas del Añil is pictured in this issue on page 7.

8.
Maria Amalia, artist statement on her website, https://www.mariaamalia.com/comunion-1 (accessed February 12, 2023).

‍