Being with Pigments (2024)

A Solstice-to-Solstice Reflection

Being with Pigments (2024) was a half-year long exploration of earth pigments, led by Tilke Elkins of the Wild Pigment Project. From solstice to solstice, Tilke—whom I came to think of as our “pigment doula”—guided our biweekly virtual gatherings with care and reverence. Each session invited us to engage with pigment beings through a variety of lenses: artistic, ecological, sensory, and spiritual.

We spent time with natural pigments, both mineral and botanical, tuning in to what they reveal, how they lead, and what they are willing to share. It was a radically different approach than a typical or casual consumption of resources—often done without thought or gratitude. Instead, we practiced listening and reciprocity.

Each gathering was preceded by a prompt or assignment. In the early months, we began with foundational readings and conversations on land acknowledgment, reciprocity, and the language of foraging. In a time when the earth is suffering under the weight of relentless extraction, these discussions felt not only relevant but essential. We were encouraged to ask: Who were the original stewards of this land? How did we come to be here? What does it mean to forage with care, reverence, and responsibility?

Our time with mineral pigments stimulated a new way of noticing for me. I began to notice more details in the world around me: along walking paths, in driveways, on roadsides. Areas I once passed by without thought revealed soft, subtle earth tones—ochres, greys, reds—no longer hidden in plain sight. But there was something else—something else to this looking and noticing. There was a feeling, an intuition, I guess. Not only did I see things anew with my eyes, I also experienced a different way of feeling the life and deep time of all the beings around me. The birds, the trees, the land, the stones. The wind. In retrospect, I think this was the beginning of my tethering, rooting, into this northern place I call home. My mind’s eye began to capture the invisible but profoundly felt energy of all the things around me. It’s a humbling feeling, but it also makes me feel connected to everything and everyone around me. This gift of seeing, noticing, feeling, I believe, will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Our group’s biweekly virtual gatherings held a sacred space for me. I cherished being a part of a group where anyone could feel comfortable to speak freely, with vulnerability, and with a willingness to explore and listen.

What I hadn’t realized before—and now know with certainty—is how profoundly I value this kind of community. Even through a screen, the connection was real. The growth I experienced by showing up wholeheartedly—especially in the presence of others who dared to do the same—was exponential.

Now, I find myself seeking more of this: more circles, more communion, more depth. This way of being—with pigments, with people, with land—has changed me.