Martin has used okra for about fifteen years, originally of necessity. After graduate school in library science at the University of North Carolina-Greensboro and book arts at the University of Alabama (where she studied with Gabriel Rummonds, Glenn House, and Paula Gourley), Martin wanted to continue making paper. But she was broke and could not afford to buy the usual source materials-linters, raw fiber, or cotton or linen rags. She lived then in Plymouth, North Carolina, in the rural eastern section of the state, and had a friend who grew okra. Having read in Lillian Bell's book, Plant Fibers for Papermaking, that the stalk of the okra plant could be a source of fiber for papermaking, she experimented with the dead stalks of the plants, after her friend had harvested the edible part. Martin has since discovered that she can usually get as much free okra fiber as she can haul away, since farmers have no use for it and normally have to do the work themselves of chopping up the dead, woody stalks, and hauling them from their fields or burning them. She enlists her husband and three children to aid in harvesting this fiber. People selling okra at farmers markets are asked what they do with their okra stalks. Inevitably, they are delighted later when she and her family show up at their farm and are happy to have her clear out as much as she wants. Even though she can now afford to purchase linters or cotton half-stock, Martin keeps returning to work with okra. Martin's okra paper was included in Peter Thomas's 1999 book, Paper from Plants. (In the accompanying description, Martin wrote that she would much rather use the plant for making paper than eat the pods.) She mostly uses the plant's stalk as her papermaking fiber, although sometimes she mixes in a few pods for decorative effect. To prepare the fiber, Martin cuts the dead stalks down to two-foot lengths and boils them hard for two hours in plain water. This loosens the bark and helps kill the spiJ03 15 Martin filling a pot to cook the okra stalks and peeling the fiber off the stalks. ders and other critters. Once the stalks cool, she works by the bucketful, separating the bast-the inner bark, the part best suited for papermaking-from the outer bark and the core. The stalk has the same viscous substance that can be extracted from the seedpod (which is sometimes used by papermakers as a substitute for tororo-aoi, in nagashizuki-style papermaking). Although the plants are long dead, the stalk retains the viscous quality and, even after cooking the fiber, this substance is still present, especially down the middle of the stalk. "It's really gross, like a slug in plant form," Martin observes. At this stage she sometimes freezes the bast fiber, for use later. Otherwise, she continues to prepare it for papermaking, cooking it outside in soda ash and water for a couple of hours. The fiber changes color at this point from a dark brown to a straw color, (sometimes aided by a little bleach). Martin then rinses the fiber well, cuts it into smaller pieces, and puts it into her Lee Scott McDonald Hollander beater. Typically, she beats the fiber hard for an hour. She can get smooth, translucent sheets with longer beats, but she prefers a more opaque look with the fibers evident in the sheet. Martin started out in fiber arts. She likes what she calls a "very clothy" texture and therefore prefers to do minimal beating. In the vat, she uses just the okra fiber and water. The slime in the okra is a natural sizing, which makes the paper suitable for calligraphy ("Except for the bumps," she notes). Martin describes an evolution in her work with okra, from initially combining the fiber with cotton, to making paper solely from okra (as in the Peter Thomas book), to using the okra paper for other things, such as a substrate for her marbling. She has mused about future okra projects, including carding and spinning the fiber (although she acknowledges something knitted or woven from it would be too itchy to wear) and making three-dimensional cast sculptures from it. While okra may be Martin's signature fiber, she has used many others, both indigenous ones she get from farms and gardens, and standard, partially prepared papermaking fibers like cotton and abaca. A friend sends her boxes of unusual fibers through the mail: Spanish moss, iris, seaweed. She usually mixes these with a little cotton or abaca, but her pulps mostly consist of just these other fibers, with striking results. Martin made a special paper for a project now underway: a book of poems by Fred Chappell with drawings by Fritz Janschka. (Chappell teaches at the University of HA"ID PAPER.\tAKl'>G100% okra paper. The inner bark of the stalk was cleaned, cooked in soda ash, rinsed, and beaten in a Hollander for [lIIe hour. The surface decoration was done with watercolor marbling, using a wavy feather pattern.  North Carolina-Greensboro and is a recent poet laureate for the state. Janschka is now retired from the University.) All of the poems are about Chappell's former cat, which died before the book was produced. Martin and Chappell decided to include the cat's hair in the paper for the book, mixing it with cotton. Apparently the cat shed profusely, for Chappell was able to collect plenty of the hair without disturbing the corpse. The edition, limited to fifty copies, constitutes a considerable effort for Martin: in addition to making the paper, she hand-set the lead type, had type-high magnesium plates made of Janschka's drawings, and printed it all on the Vandercook #1 proof press in her living room. She will soon bind it herself, finishing it all off with handmade paper covers and a Bradel binding, with handsewn headbands. Few people today individually perform so many steps in the production of a book. Martin produced an earlier book, in which she letterpress printed poems by a friend, Brice Piephoff, with illustrations by her husband. She used a cotton-okra paper for this work, with a suminigashi pattern on the cover. She also prints broadsides on her own paper. In addition to suminigashi, Martin does Turkish-or Western-style marbling (using watercolor pigments) on her papers. For the paper sample here, she chose the latter style, so as to get an overall pattern that would show in each sample cut from the original sheets. With a few exceptions, her marbling materials, tools, and techniques are all traditional. When I visited Martin recently, she demonstrated marbling on her all-okra paper for me. She has found that one key to marbling on handmade papers is to not rinse the sheet after pulling it from the marbling vat, as one normally does. Rather, she blots each sheet with a towel, then leaves it to dry exposed to the air. This works because Martin does not pre-treat her handmade sheets with alum, the mordant usually used in marbling to fix the colors to the paper. She finds that the fibers in her handmade papers are sufficiently absorbent to lift the colors off the surface of the vat. (Not using alum also gives her papers more longevity, as they are not exposed to this acid.) Martin has marbled for long enough that she keeps long lists of color sequences that she can repeat. She likes to alternate rich and subtle colors, light and dark, for
Suminigashi on okra paper (detail). WINTER 2003
rlil1 preparing her marbling tank. Before she lays paper on the surface of the vat to transfer the image, she will draw combs through the inks in the vat to create the wavy Hem seen in the paper sample on the previous page.  contrast. She identifies the colors (from Colophon Book Arts Supply) by number, making lists that look like series of random numbers, a secret code. But she only records those color combinations and series that make her shiver. After demonstrating a particular color combination for me, she commented, "Getting there, but still no chill bumps." Among the important steps she underscores as she demonstrates for me, Martin mixes her concentrated colors with distilled water, which keeps the colors from breaking up as they interact on the surface of the water in the marbling vat. She uses ox gall in the pigments (which makes the colors spread) and carragheenan in the water (which makes it heavy and helps the colors float on the surface), achieving the play of surface tension in which new colors added to the mix vie for space with the others. Martin imagines colors newly added to the vat saying to the others, "Get out of the way!" Martin works as a librarian, which allows her the flexibility to do her own creative work without having to live off it and compromise her artistic skills. She does not do commission printing work, such as wedding invitations. She sells her marbled papers but will not custom-make sheets using color combinations that customers request. Her papermaking, marbling, and printing work are her release from the rest of her life: especially raising her children and seeing hundreds of children each week at the library where she works during the school year. She does not keep her library work and her art completely separate, however. Martin has done projects at her school libraries with students, helping them make books. Each child makes two copies of a book, one to keep and one for the school library. The students make the paper, write a story on it, and make marbled covers that are secured to the pages with a Japanese binding. Martin laminates the covers for durability. "The kids love it; they come to the library later and check out books made by other kids," she tells me. She recently worked in a school where they wanted her to make books with the entire fourth grade. One can only imagine what Susanne Martin will do next with the okra fiber she knows so well. Whether or not she integrates it into her work with children or other artists, she is bound to discover interesting new uses for this otherwise unappealing plant. HAl PAPER IAKL,G