The smell wafts up from the handwoven, indigo-dyed cotton cloth as I’m ironing it. It’s an unmistakable odor—a little sweet, a little pungent. If you’ve dyed with indigo, you know this smell and you understand the magical, transformative process of … Read the rest
It’s summer and the indigo dye pot is alive and well, being fed by various students at the former Textile Arts Centre in Chicago. I can smell the dye pot—it’s a disagreeable odor, one like no other. Not putrid, nor … Read the rest
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