Kaliko Journal is a free newsletter about natural dyeing, textiles, art practice, and life by Ania Grzeszek. This publication is divided into two sections: ”Plant Dyeing” and “Studio Practice”. You can manage your subscription by clicking “Unsubscribe” at the bottom of the email and opting IN and OUT of the sections that interest you. This is also where you can pledge your financial support for this publication, which would help me continue to sustain it.
Feel free to share parts of this letter wherever and with whomever you’d like, remembering to tag me. If you want to support my work, subscribe to this publication and/or purchase my handmade products. Take care of yourself wherever you are.
It’s been a busy week, tending to our building site. Our tiny house in Polish countryside is taking shape, and I can’t wait to share new interior photos with you. We’re not there yet, though, but we are far enough for me to shed an unexpected proud tear last week. Building a house is a wild ride.
If not for my new part-time job, and my upcoming event this coming weekend, we would stay here a while longer. We finally have running water from our own well, we can shower, use the toilet, and soon cook (the kitchen has to wait for the next visit). Electricity and heating are available, and we have put a mattress upstairs. As I laid down on it last Saturday afternoon, listening to the whisper of wild grasses and chirping of birds, I thought it was all—and more—that I wished for when starting this projects. There’s still so much to do, and I guess there’ll be a lot to do for a long time, but the feeling of having my own roof over my head is nothing short of magical.
Now it’s back to Berlin, as I am opening my studio doors to Berliners on June 10th. I am organising Clothes Clinic after a long personal “winter”, to invite likeminded people to my space and share my art with them. I am a serial workshop teacher. The idea behind my regular workshops is to share my knowledge with those eager to learn, who later use the process in their art—professional and/or personal. Clothes Clinic is different, though. It caters to all curious souls, who want to upcycle something specific, but not necessarily need to repeat the process by themselves, like, ever.
I am inviting you to my studio to guide you through this craft, but the work is yours. I see it as a collaborative event, and a chance to get to know my community. I want us to do good together, save some clothes from the landfills, and I want to use the skills I have to facilitate that.
This event means a lot to me, and I want it to be a success. I am trying different things I haven’t tried before to put it out there, because—despite of what things may look like—I tend to not believe in myself enough, and I want to change that. And I do believe in this event, I really do, so I am putting extra effort into promoting it. The in-person part of Clothes Clinic is so appealing to me, so I decided to go analog with advertising, too, and try some old-school strategies. My first idea: make flyers to hang on street lights around the city. My second idea: paint a big banner and put it outside my studio.
And here’s my problem: I have a complicated relationship with physical products and unnecessary waste.
I remember what made me start my business. I was going through a phase of first discovering what fast-fashion meant. Pesticides used for growing fiber crops, fossil fuels used to produce synthetic fibers, toxic dyes polluting waterways, inhumane working conditions for fashion workers, and, of course, mountains of textile waste, entire landfills full of cheap clothes worn just a few times. During that time, in 2015, I decided not to buy new clothes unless absolutely necessary (and ethically made), and learning about alternative ways of making cloth took me to where I am now—which I am thankful for! From the very beginning Kaliko is based on natural, organic fibers, botanical dyes, and reducing waste.
But the problem runs deeper. My family was always all about not wasting resources. Might be the way Polish people had to work with the little they had after the war, and during the long years of communism, I don’t know. Anyways, I was never allowed to leave food on my plate. My dad showed me how to build things with random bits he had in his garage instead of buying new parts when I had to work on a school project. My mum never saved on books, but rarely indulged me in popular toys or clothes she deemed unnecessary.
As I grew up, I took it up a notch. In my life, I try to shop plastic-free. I don’t buy gadgets unless it’s a pen or a notebook. I don’t buy new clothes, and I have a hard time parting with the ones I already own. And I think it’s a good way to live and I wish more people shared this mindset, but recently I noticed how stifling it’s become.
Because the problem with this mindset is how quickly simple play can cause a bad conscience. Even before I start a project just for fun, I am already asking myself—will I use it, is it necessary, what if it’s ugly and all I can do is throw it away? My throat tightens and I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Even if it’s simple watercoloring session, I am having fun yet simultaneously I am counting how many sheets of paper I just “wasted” warming up my hand. What will I do with them? Did I just sacrifice a tree and gallons of water for the sake of mere fun? And of course, that’s a little silly, but somehow it’s become one of the biggest struggles in my creative life, because what’s creativity if play is off limits? And why do I try to be holier than saints instead of giving myself a break?
My workarounds at the moment are:
if I work with what I already have but don’t use, I have a chance of turning it into something of value, instead of having it stay on my shelf for years. It’s worth trying
if I choose materials that are biodegradable, even if what I make is completely useless and have to throw it away, it will nourish the soil instead of polluting it
most failed experiments can be repurposed, reused, reworked into something new
reminding myself I already do enough and I am allowed to not think about the consequences for an hour and just have fun
I thought about it a lot when I made flyers and the banner for Clothes Clinic.
The flyers are regular paper printouts with my plant-dyed fabric scraps, that I have a few full shelves of, stapled onto the paper. I had a great time arranging these small patches, each one is different than the other. I love the fact that I bring natural color out to the streets and I see it as a part of my service to this city. Showing Berliners what our humble plants are capable of creating. And once their lifecycle is done, they will turn into a pulp. What I didn’t expect is that people will steal the patches off the flyers, which I think is really interesting. I’m now thinking about starting a free patch “library” somewhere, and I would never come up with the idea if not for the flyers. I imagine the “thieves” keep them in their pockets or wallets or put them on their pinboards. And if they just take them to later throw away, it’s fine too. They experience the haptic pleasure of touching natural fabric for a second and maybe take a closer look at plant colors, and my work actually spends some time in people’s hands.
For the banner I decided to paint over a big patchwork piece I had standing in my studio for over a year. It was a commission that was cancelled last minute, after I have already started so I went on and finished it. This piece is over 2m long and 1,6m tall, made with clothing waste from the local “textile pool”, that I dyed with logwood (purple), madder (orange and pink) and cutch (beige and brown). I always wanted to turn it into an artwork with painted text but nothing ever felt quite on point, until I came up with Clothes Clinic idea. But in order to stick to my principles about how to play without a bad conscience, I had to solve the following problem: before painting, canvas has to be sealed with gesso, which is usually made with acrylic, and that would mean my banner would not be biodegradable. So I researched traditional sealing recipes and found a natural gesso recipe, made with chalk, oil and gelatine, and it worked surprisingly well. It took three days to make, paint and dry, but it was more fun that it would be otherwise. I would definitely use the recipe for my art projects and now I know it works. And it reminded me about one thing I know but sometimes forget about, and then beat myself up for being so inflexible with my play time: limitations boost creativity. (And also—creativity fosters more creativity, so here’s the ultimate permission to play.)
I will actually leave you with that. Whatever the reasons for our limitations are, may we enjoy the gifts they bring but may we also free ourselves from the ones that hurt us. And let’s share our gifts with the world freely, because there’s never going to be such thing as “too much art”.
I hope to see you at Clothes Clinic this Saturday June 10th! No booking necessary, just stop by with the piece(s) you want to upcycle, anytime between 11am and 4pm. Suggested donation is 35€ per piece, it helps me cover material costs, studio rent and my time. Please read the details before joining: www.kaliko.co/clothes-clinic
And if you can, please share this event with your friends and help me spread the word ♥️