Using nature's palette & the art of black fabric dye using oak galls

This post was written by Anushka Hamilton in relation to our range of organically printed silk scarves .

I have long wanted to try to achieve a true black dye, and now the time has come. There are many recipes, but due to the fact that oak trees are widespread in my region, I decided to work with oak galls. In early November, during a walk, we managed to harvest enough to begin the process.

Oak galls result from an intriguing collaborative effort between the oak tree and the common oak gall wasp (Cynips quercusfolii), whose larvae parasitise the oak, triggering gall formation and feeding on it as they develop. While galls represent a heavy burden on oak trees, humans have much to thank the oak gall wasp for. For centuries, its larvae indirectly preserved knowledge and increased literacy across Europe and Russia.

Oak bark, leaves, fruits, and especially galls are rich in tannins. These tannins were historically used to dye textiles and leather. Oak galls, however, contain an exceptionally high concentration, making them especially valuable. Beyond textile dyeing, they became famous as the primary raw material for ink production.

Here you can see the different colours achieved using tannin from galls (golden sample) and iron sulphate (dark grey sample).

Silk scarf, Graphite Forest Twilight

Here is a fragment of the Book of Kells, one of Ireland’s most important written relics. This page contains a fragment of the Gospel of Luke, as well as the genealogy of Jesus.

Ink derived from oak galls has been made in Europe since the 5th century. Surviving manuscripts from the Middle Ages and Renaissance confirm this, with the majority written using iron gall ink. Many drawings by Leonardo da Vinci were executed using this ink, as were works by Rembrandt and Van Gogh.

Self-Portrait, Leonardo da Vinci

Pollard Birches, Vincent van Gogh

Such ink remained in widespread use until the 19th century. Iron sulphate was traditionally used as a mordant, giving rise to the name “iron gall ink.”

Black has long been favoured by priests and penitents, artists and ascetics, fashion designers and government officials. It has stood for opposing ideas: authority and humility, sin and holiness, rebellion and conformity.

As Michel Pastoureau notes, black has travelled from being associated with hell and the devil to monastic virtue, royal luxury, romantic melancholy, and finally to dominance in modern art, photography, and film—restored as a true colour in its own right.