As a former professional with a small alphabet soup of degrees after my name, I am often asked how I became a textile artist. My tie dye roots actually go back to dyeing Easter eggs. My family has dyed Easter eggs for as long as I can remember, and I was never content to just dunk the eggs in a single color and call it done. I could work on a single egg for an hour. I mixed the colors, played around with layering them in different ways, and was always looking for new "resists" - rubber bands, crayon, melted wax, or stickers, correction tape, leaves or flowers pressed against the egg and held in place with a stocking. It's actually the same exact principle as tie dye - the folds, bands, and string on fabric create "resists" - places where the dye can't go, or can't go as freely, and that's what makes the patterns. Now I get to play around all year long, and I still make the best Easter eggs.
As a former professional with a small alphabet soup of degrees after my name, I am often asked how I became a textile artist. My tie dye roots actually go back to dyeing Easter eggs. My family has dyed Easter eggs for as long as I can remember, and I was never content to just dunk the eggs in a single color and call it done. I could work on a single egg for an hour. I mixed the colors, played around with layering them in different ways, and was always looking for new "resists" - rubber bands, crayon, melted wax, or stickers, correction tape, leaves or flowers pressed against the egg and held in place with a stocking. It's actually the same exact principle as tie dye - the folds, bands, and string on fabric create "resists" - places where the dye can't go, or can't go as freely, and that's what makes the patterns. Now I get to play around all year long, and I still make the best Easter eggs.
Comments
You rule my Cali sistah!