A good source of fibre

Many of us – men especially – like to pretend that we have no interest in clothes. This makes about as much sense as claiming to have no interest in food.

With very few exceptions, post-Edenic people have felt the need to cover themselves. It is a uniquely human frailty – a reflection of our bodily shame and our vulnerability to the elements. And whether we dress up or down, it involves an element of conceit – a display of ruggedness or practicality, leisure or prestige, signifying membership in a certain socio-economic tribe.

Even those of us who favour second-hand clothing are complicit in a global textile economy that makes garments cheap enough to be essentially disposable, at least for Western consumers. Cotton prices are kept low by vast Chinese and American farm subsidies, to the detriment of poor countries that rely heavily on this export commodity. The crop has major environmental impacts, including heavy use of water and chemicals – but the most common alternatives are oil-based, and leave a trail of micro-plastic pollution in oceans.

Then there is the problem of low-cost manufacturing, which tends to put a low price on human life. A notorious historical example is the fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York City, in 1911, which caused the deaths of 146 garment workers, mostly Italian or Jewish women and girls who were recent immigrants. Now almost all our clothes are made offshore, so that’s where the labourers die. The year 2012 seemed like a low point, with a garment factory fire in Bangladesh that killed 117, and one in Pakistan that killed 289. But 2013 brought the collapse of an eight-story building in Bangladesh, the Rana Plaza, which housed several garment companies – resulting in a death toll of 1,134.

Since then, there has been a bit of a reckoning. Though the basic structure of the industry remains unchanged, greater awareness has helped to advance organic and fair-trade certification of textiles, and an ongoing search for better options. An offshoot of this is the “fibreshed” movement, which seeks to build capacity for sustainable production at the local or regional level.

The Pays de Cocagne Sustainable Development Group, a non-profit organization in southeastern New Brunswick (encompassing the rural communities of Grande-Digue, Cocagne, Notre-Dame, Irishtown, and Grand Saint-Antoine), operates a program called Cocagne Country Colours, aimed at local production of yarn using non-toxic dyes derived from natural sources. Marie-Claude HОbert, the project coordinator, says it was “just happenstance” that the program was launched in 2019. She was taking part in a “medicine walk” when a member of the group brought up the topic of growing woad (Isatis tinctoria) for use as a blue dye. She was reminded that this complicated process involves forming the crushed leaves into a mass that is traditionally known as a “Cocagne ball,” and she decided this warranted further investigation. (The place name refers to a mythical land of plenty, possibly alluding to the Lauragais region in southern France, which had a prosperous woad or pastel dyeing industry between the 15th and 17th centuries.)

“It turns out that in Europe woad is fine to grow, but in our climate it tends to be pretty invasive,” says HОbert. “We tested it, and it really is! So we kind of lost woad, and we moved to Japanese indigo, which is basically an annual, to get our blues. So that was the first spark of interest. We started talking about workshops, and it just snowballed from there.”

One of the challenges was sourcing fleece in New Brunswick. The group eventually obtained alpaca fibre from a farm in Harcourt, and Bluefaced Leicester wool from Cornhill. “We are getting it spun at Legacy Lane in Sussex,” says HОbert. “They’re awesome, but they’re actually maxed out, so with our new fleece that we found, which is Icelandic sheep wool, we’re getting it from Saint-Marie, but we have to send it to Cape Breton to get it spun because there’s really not enough mills; New Brunswick has one mini-mill.”

As for dyeing, there appears to be plenty of interest locally. “At first we were trying to find elders who had that knowledge, but it was gone – 1850 is when the acid dyes came in. No one that we knew still had that memory of how to do it, so we’re relearning and reteaching, and in the community we have a lot of different people with different backgrounds. In the group we have farmers, we have scientists, we have artists, and we have me in the middle, as an artist-educator. People love the workshops, and everyone’s enthusiastic.”

In addition to indigo, the group uses plants such as goldenrod, tansy, onion, marigolds, and butternuts. “Black walnuts work very well; they have a lot of tannin, so they give you that deeper colour,” says HОbert. “And sometimes we modify with iron, which darkens and deepens colour. We only use alum and iron as modifiers, because they are fine to go back into the watershed.”

She learned a lot from Joanna Close, an instructor at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design (NSCAD), and from online courses that became available during the pandemic. Jennifer Green, another textile specialist at NSCAD, has helped to bring together interested and knowledgeable people who see a future for the Atlantic Canada Fibreshed.

HОbert’s research has shown that New Brunswick once had fibre processing facilities in various small communities. “There were carding mills everywhere, and it was very useful and very practical to the local economy, when you could create garments and sell them,” she says. “I think going back to that is realistic. Sort of smaller, more localized industries is more realistic, and that’s what we’re envisioning and striving for.”

It is clear that crafters are creating strong demand for yarn. What remains to be seen is whether they are committed to supporting local producers. “I think that’s starting to come about, but the knowledge isn’t always there,” HОbert says. “When they become aware, they realize the difference in colours, the difference in process, the difference in impact – so I think it’s a situation where we just need to make it more understood.”

The objective is to demonstrate that these things are possible. “We’re not at the level where we can build a whole textile economy yet, but at least to reach people,” says HОbert. “There is a flax component that’s kind of spun off to become its own project, and that’s more garments – like ready-to-wear. I guess that in terms of the wool, we’re not going to replace garments, but when people relearn how to make hats and mittens and eventually shawls, we’ll integrate sweaters. I think that does work toward the goal. We probably won’t replace the garment industry as it is now, but hopefully we’ll play our part in making people realize that throw-away culture is not sustainable.”

Some would question whether a local fibre sector can become viable, in the face of global economic forces that support mass production – but if we’re determined to be that cynical, why bother planting tomatoes in the garden? DL