Black Agrarian Arts Gathering

Last weekend, I went on a roadtrip to Georgia for the inaugural Black Agrarian Arts Gathering at High Hog Farm. It was magical to witness the communal spirit of craftsmen and craftswomen who are all doing the same thing in different parts of the world. The energy was pure, nurturing, radiant and buzzing with creators from all walks of life—youth and elders, weavers and quilters, dyers and spinners. 

My drive on the way there was adorned with miles and miles of cotton fields that looked like snow, goldenrod lining the road with other wildflowers, red clay hills cut from concrete like cake, furry pines, magnolia trees and pampas grass. 

I imagined my ancestors picking cotton and waving at me. There were so many layers and dimensions to this experience that made it surreal. I will try my best to capture as much as possible in this reflection.

When I first arrived to the farm, it felt like being at a family reunion. It reminded me of when I visited my mother’s family on their farm in Georgia as a child. This was a divine synchronicity because my maternal grandmother used to be a seamstress who designed clothes and stitched quilts with her sisters, my great aunts. The space welcomed me with open arms. It was a calling to return to my roots and a manifestation of the ancestral voices that have been moving through me, eager for hands to hold them and for ears to listen.

I walked up a dirt road nestled in the forest past grapevines and fruit trees toward the house. Elders sat around a table on the wooden deck, talking about indigenous fashion and dyeing with ocean water. The deck sat high above hills and rows of cosmos and marigold flowers. Mordanted cotton hung from clips on a threaded line between the pillars. Sheep, chickens and dogs wandered the land. A white cat lounged near the rabbit house. A beautiful horse grazed peacefully. Within minutes of being present in this space, I became immersed in Gullah Geechee cultural heritage and the craft language of the American South. 

It was enlightening to be on a fiber farm where other land stewards understand and value how the natural world can be activated for artmaking. Sheep are raised for wool, raw cotton is collected in straw baskets and flowers are grown for their vibrant color applications in natural dye. We acknowledged how special it is that we all recognize the significance of craft to some degree, which ultimately guided us to unify in this space together. It’s essential to preserve our traditions due to the ongoing systemic erasure of our history. 

Before eating our first meal, we got busy mixing indigo paste in a mortar and pestle to prepare the dye vat for fabric. The white ceramic bowl sang with heavenly music as we stirred the pestle around and around. It was magical to see this in person because I had just written about this ancient tool a few weeks ago. Each person alternated blending the pigment. The rich dark blue was soul mesmerizing and captivating. This was the perfect way to begin engaging with materials through mindfulness.

The weaving loom was a gem. I’ve wanted to learn how to weave since I was first introduced to it when attending art school in Baltimore. I’d joined a club that was mostly white women using machines, so it was extra special to be in an environment with Black artisans who use the technology of their hands with traditional methods. The guest weaver Camisha Butler hosted a workshop with us while we dreamt about starting our own talk show, sharing stories around the loom.

I brought a book that I’ve been reading titled, Plantation Slave Weavers Remember: An Oral History by Mary Madison. It’s full of anecdotes from enslaved Africans and their descendants about their fiber practices, growing cotton, weaving and dyeing.

On many southern plantations, there was a loom house built specifically for the purpose of creating fabric from the cotton that was grown on the land. I love to imagine what it was like in this house, collaborating with the loom as a living being with its own complex anatomy and consciousness. It’s an integral part of the seed-to-fiber process and represents knowledge that we inherited from our elders. The plants communicate and show us how to work with them to create beautiful things.  I believe the loom loves us just as much as we love the loom. 

And then…there were dyes!

The dye station was my favorite element. Thanks to Kenya Miles from Blue Light Junction where I first learned about natural dye back in 2020, six dye vats were prepared with different colors: indigo for blue, madder for red, logwood for purple, marigold for yellow, cochineal for pink and black walnut for brown. It was such a full circle moment to have her tend to the dyes with her wisdom and care. These hues are derived from the roots, leaves, bark, flowers and seeds of plants. Cochineal is super special because it comes from a bug and makes a bright fuchsia. 

I spent the majority of my time during our gathering with the dyes. I learned how to do the Yoruba adire resist dye technique from West Africa, which produces an array of circles that resemble eyes, nebulas, microorganisms and rays beaming from the Sun. The colors were enchanting and uplifting to the spirit. We played and had so much fun. 

Our experiments were accompanied by an angelic chorus of ooooooohh, aahhhhh and woooowwwww whenever someone lifted their fabric out of the dye bath and untwisted it to reveal the pattern that was made. We joked about how dyes are like a vortex because they pull you in and it’s difficult to leave. After you dye one thing, all these ideas start racing through your mind about what else you can dye. Natural dye is a sustainable practice, so our goal is to stretch the color and use it as much as we can. Honoring the life of the material leads to an endless exploration. 

During the closing night, we gathered around a campfire to roast marshmallows, read poetry and tell stories. We played a game where one person in the circle started a story and the next person added another line. This was very interesting because it encouraged us to activate our intuition and work together. It turned out to be a riveting folktale about a man camping in a forest, a young girl with psychedelic mushrooms, and tiny hikers who were born from a giant beanstalk. 

On the last day, we gathered for brunch and closing remarks. We shared our rose, bud and thorn. The rose is our favorite moment or experience, the bud is what we’re looking forward to and the thorn is what we wished could’ve been different. Mama Carola gave a speech about the importance of this work. She said,

You brought all of your ancestors with you.

We took a group photo with our creations—from stitched quilts to dyed cloth. This was such a sacred moment that allowed us to celebrate the result of our time and labor. This image shows that we are a fusion of diverse lineages who embody a variety of colors, textures and memories. The piece next to me has a quote that says,

Come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.