The Abney Effect.
The Abney Effect was an exhibition within the newly renovated Abney Park, one of London's 'Magnificent Seven' garden cemeteries, to celebrate local materials in contemporary design and craft [September 2024].
Our parks, and specifically the trees within them, serve as vital community gathering spaces, uniting individuals through a shared appreciation for nature. Ten designers present tools, material samples, and objects demonstrating the transformative qualities of these materials, all harvested without felling trees.
According to Dezeen, “Abney Park first opened in 1840 as an arboretum. It once contained 2,500 species of tree – more than even Kew Gardens has today – including a rosarium with over 1,000 varieties of rose.”
The starting point for this showcase — New Perspectives on Oils, Waxes, Resins, Woods and Dyes, hosted by WAX Atelier and curated by Company, Place — was the ingredients from trees, and not just the obvious paper and wood (or oxygen), but additionally waxes, resins, scents, dyes, oils and fibres.
I’m local to Abney Park, and was so pleased with the transformation from a neglected entrance to a totally welcoming space, and even more delighted that WAX Atelier now have a studio there. It connects visitors and locals to origin of materials. This exhibition opened for London Design Festival and Open House Festival in September 2024, and what follows is tidbits of the craftspeople and locally-made design objects.
Studio Playfool — Forest Crayons.
I’ve no idea how they make crayons from waste wood — somehow compacting the resinous shavings? — but they have. Studio Playfool developed crayons that exhibit distinct hues dependent on the tree and it’s growing conditions.
Developed as part of a program supported by the Japanese Forestry Agency, their aim was to encourage the harvesting of trees, along with “waste” wood from lumber yards. As 40% of Japan’s forests were artifically planted after “the war” (WWII?) they do need to be managed, however, with declining import costs there simply isn’t an incentive to use what’s locally available. Learn more here.
The crayon project is scalable, and they are commercially available for purchase, though that’s a lot of crayons to disrupt a system. Along with their example crayons was a book on brass rubbings; old coins and crayons were provided for to be played with, and outside were waxed leaves, wax paper and the crayons to explore leaf rubbings too.
What I find integral here is the connection between trees and one of it’s products in terms of play. As adults we don’t go climb trees, and we don’t draw with crayons. While this could be a kiddy object, it’s rather posh and special, so this creation provides an opportunity to find ritual and meaning in something we’ve forgotten about.
Images: Studio Playfool - Forest Crayons: 1. Various tree wood, wood shavings in petri dishes, crayons and paper showing the variety of hues; 2. Old 'Brass Rubbings' book with wax seal examples, wax blocks, and various brass coin rubbings; 3. Exploring leaf rubbing in the September sunshine using waxed leaves, wax crayons and wax paper.
WAX Atelier — Hand-dipped candles.
Examples of the hand-dipped candles that WAX Atelier produce and sell, but also wax blocks and samples that seem to have been acquired from other candle artisans. They also had a ‘perfumer’s organ’ on show, which is an array of scents (notes) unique to that owner. There’s an interesting explanation from Fragonard on the Perfumer’s Organ. The jars seemed to be empty of any essence, but a candle was burning (think it was cedar), and there was an ‘aromatic fan’, which is a decorative paper fan I guess used to waft scent around. In front were a selection of woody bits and resins, presumably adjacent to the jars, such as frankincense and cade wood.
Images: WAX Atelier - Hand-dipped candles: 1. Display of candles and wax blocks in warm shades; 2. Perfumer's Organ with resin and wood examples, plus a burning candle and aromatic fan in view; 3. Outward-look at the display shelf of candles, wax blocks, tools and perfume jars.
CQ Studio — Ode to Dair.
Ogham is an ancient script used primarily to write the early Irish language. The Ogham alphabet consists of twenty distinct characters, and each “letter” corresponds to a specific tree or plant in the Celtic tradition. Oak is ‘D’, or ‘Dair’. Oak’s symbolism usually refers to strength, endurance and wisdom.
CQ Studio’s work of utilising discharged dye baths to create bio-sequins is evidenced here by a hanging sculpture — or otherwise wearable art. The dye baths of buckthorn, logwood, lac and weld are shown via the sequins in the piece, yet from below in a subtly-lit room, it appeared to me as macabre or ominous. Dark, in a gothic way. And that perhaps suits the imposing nature of oak, and the spirits of Celtic mythology.
Images: CQ Studio - Ode to Dair: the bio-sequin sculpture hangs both delicately and darkly above the room.
Jacob Marks — Explorations in Pine Resin.
These experiments from Jacob Marks are an “ongoing investigation into pine resin’s properties and characteristics; aiming to see how a material which was once in widespread use around the world can be given a contemporary revival.”
Pine resin which is naturally produced by trees to seal damage to their bark, has a deep and far reaching history. For hunter-gathers it was a means of making spears, for colonial naval fleets it ensured ships remained watertight, and today Greek's use the substance to produce their distinctive Retsina wine. However, in all examples, resin plays a secondary role rather than that of the primary material.
In collaboration with Surrey Wildlife Trust, Marks harvested resin from a black pine tree and then explored different materials and techniques to create samples and objects from, including the displayed Pina Lamp — a paper form is dipped into molten resin before being moulded around a timber base. Other objects on show were a resin pot, resin clumps in a pestle & mortar, an escoda axe (which is perhaps what’s used to make the incision into the tree), resin blocks and dipped wax samples, and the lovely book that beautifully describes the experiments and educates on pine resin harvesting. Watch a video of the project here.
Images: Jacob Marks - Explorations in Pine Resin: (clockwise from top left) 1. Objects on display include an axe, research book, resin samples and Pina Lamp; 2. Wax-dipped samples and resin blocks; 3. Metal pot full of resin, now solid (or at least looking solid); 4. Ladle doused in wax or resin, to accompany the resin pot also on display.
WAX Atelier — Lost Roses of Abney.
Another from WAX Atelier, this one focusing locally on the lost rosarium of Abney Park by making faux flowers out of wax-dipped fabric. Ivy, birch bark and poplar buds (presumably from the park or locally) were used to make dyes that coloured offcuts of silk and linen. The material is dipped in a pliable pine resin (presumably to preserve it?) and then further dipped in aromatic wax (rose or beeswax) and tree gums (frankincense and myrrh).
On the table was a deconstructed fabric flower example with the various material ingredients. What I realised in this exhibition is that I don’t know the difference between the terms resin, wax, and gum. Like, I don’t know how with the Forest Crayons the wood shavings became waxy, or with Marks’ experiments why there is a resin pot but wax samples. The only experience I’ve had with wax, other than a standard candle, is processing beeswax, which is secreted by the honeybee’s wax gland. Paraffin wax, ok, synthesised somehow. Soy wax, I don’t know… it’s better, but where does it actually come from? Must be the bean itself with oil extracted, as the plant would just be lignin (and therefore fibre). Resin I know of again from a beekeeping perspective, of honeybees transforming tree resin via enzymes into propolis. But resin direct from a tree, no idea. It must be a protective sappy thing.
So, in hindsight, I should’ve asked to have receive explanations on these. [Ok, so a search seems to state that a gum is the polysaccharide of sap, and resin is a solid or viscous liquid. Gums are extracted from resin? Wax is a solid organic substance that becomes liquid when heated, and apart from beeswax would come from oil. So natural oils from lumber extracted when in smaller shaving form can become wax?]
Images: WAX Atelier - Lost Roses of Abney: 1. Example of waxed fabric flower, deconstructed into various materials used; 2. Example of a waxed fabric flower.
Arjan van Dal — Wood Ash Glaze Experiments.
Potter Arjan van Dal experiments with wood ash from the harvested wood of Chingford and Walthamstow (north London) gardens, as an exploration into alternatives to environmentally-degrading ceramic glazes. The oak, ash and apple tree wood is displayed in cabinets along with precluding processes; washed wood ash (in the jars?), and burnt and dried wood ash as a clumpy and powder form. Bowls and plates show the delicate hued ash glazes, from periwinkle blue, to an eggshell white, to pale yellow and a sage green. I guess a glaze could work on earthenware (would you get urban porcelain… bones?), so perhaps you could be hyperlocal and make a clay object glazed with wood ash from the same site.
Images: Arjan van Dal - Wood Ash Glaze Experiments: 1. Cabinet containing harvested oak, ash and apple wood, with pottery equipment, jars of washed wood ash, and cleaned wood ash in bowls; 2. Examples of wood ash glaze on bowls and plates, in hues of blue, white, yellow and green.
Kilomet 109 — Natural Accessories.
This bit was my favourite. Dyestuffs, fibre and buttons were shown alongside their material origin, helping to bring awareness of the production chain of what used to be hyperlocal and created by specifically-skilled artisans. While we don’t see the likes of lac, kapok, ebony, coconut, and yam root in everyday Western fashion (and perhaps shouldn’t, for ecological stability purposes) these examples here highlight how natural ingredients are used in textiles.
Globalisation disrupted and disregarded hyperlocal production (or rather, still does), instead damaging environments and communities for the sake of resources. However, there is a benefit to respectful use, by working with the communities surrounding respective materials, and acknowledging any potential conservation opportunities and waste streams. Giving visibility to such ingredients — and craft processes — brings awareness to the need to support and conserve them.
We’ve got: coconut shell and buttons; yam root with dye samples (a knobbly clump, yarn and fabrics); kapok seed hair fibre (similar to cotton); lac twigs with chipped lac wood, dyed fibre and silk, and little bowls of processing stages from chipped wood to finer bits to powder; ebony fruit (hard balls), dye powder and dyed fabric.
Images: Kilomet 109 - Natural Accessories: (top from l-r:) 1. Coconut shell and buttons; 2. Yam root and dyed yarn and fabrics; 3. Kapok seed hair fibre in kapok seed husk; (bottom from l-r:) 4. Ebony fruit with dye powder and dyed fabrics; 5. Lac twigs, dyestuff and dyed fibre and fabric; 6. Lac wood processing stages from chipped wood to powder (with kapok also in show again).
Lola Lely Studio — Natural Dyes from Trees.
Lots of examples of natural dyes from tree sources on textiles from Lola Lely Studio. Again I found that there was some confusion caused by semantics, or lack of awareness on my part of process. For example, I know how linen fabric is made, but examples of ‘waxed linen paper’ were shown; so is this more like the flax shiv (dried stalk bits, not fibre) were used to make paper, or is it actual flax fibre? Looked like fabric anyway, and had a raw edge like fabric. Additionally to that was a ceiling lamp made from mulberry paper, which I can envision the production of, these looking very sturdy and not fabric-like at all. So it struck me that there are so many materials we can’t fathom the origin or process of from first glance, and we really need to be able to touch and smell and witness.
A leaf-printed fabric shows deep black imprints of maple and walnut leaves, gathered from the floor of the cemetery, and dipped in an iron solution. This reacts with the leaf tannins, presumably through what was a steam ‘bundle dyeing’ process. A striped fabric is made up of brown and black stripes, but faded as if they’re antique cloths, and shows beeswax (captured from WAX Atelier’s production waste) as a resist before over-dyeing with persimmon (it’s unclear what the black stripe is from).
There was barkcloth, though without explanation of origin (or I missed it), that had also been printed, with two rectangles of colour. Smaller samples showed exploratory shapes, which I surmise as being a variety of printed and of painted with natural dyes. Next to them were waxed plant bits. It was all incredibly pretty and intriguing, though more descriptions would’ve been handy for me personally to get a grasp on the colours and textures, and connect with their origin. Or perhaps they were supposed to be mysterious.
Images: Lola Lely Studio - Natural Dyes from Trees: (top from l-r) 1. Hanging waxed linen fabrics in soft pastel shades; 2. Walnut and maple leaf botanically printed cloth and next to it a beeswax-resist and persimmon over-dyed cloth; 3. Close-up of the botanically printed cloth; (bottom from l-r) 4. Close-up of the striped cloth; 5. Samples of cloth with natural dye prints and paints, with waxed plant bits; 6. Chestnut brown barkcloth with printed rectangles in blue and mauve.
WAX Atelier — The Carousel.
There wasn’t an explanation about this, just a materials list. It was on display as part of the Royal Academy of Art’s Summer Exhibition 2024. Or, that one was sold, and the one displayed here was edition 2 of 2. A hanging cluster of large hand-dipped beeswax candles from a wooden frame. The galvanised steel platform the candles were stuck onto was also covered in wax, so the whole sculpture felt somewhat in motion, like the covering had just occurred.
Images: WAX Atelier - The Carousel: The wooden, galvanised steel and beeswax sculpture consisting of candles and a frame was on display outside the studio in Abney Park.
Jamie Quade — Grown Sundial.
It’s unclear (well, not stated) what the actual origin of the wood — Cedar of Lebanon — is from this piece by Jamie Quade, but is stated that it was a fallen log destined for firewood. It was sliced into a 24-sided prism and set parallel to the Earth’s axis of rotation. “The edge where a lit face meets shade” would occur next to a beeswax-filled indentation (which are numerals, though I can’t tell the pattern) to give a sense of time.
Images: Jamie Quade - Grown Sundial: 1. Close-up of the sundial in Abney Park; 2. The sundial in situ outside WAX Atelier's studio in Abney Park [credit: via Dezeen but likely WAX Atelier].
Overall, this was a delightful exhibition with a lot of tactile stuff, particularly with the ability to pick up (certain) objects and even participate in play. There was a lot of information I didn’t glean though, the thoughts of which you can read above. However, if I left an exhibition without wanting to know more, then I can’t imagine it was totally tantalising. There were WAX Atelier or maybe London Design Festival people around to aid visitors, but it was also a cramped space on that super sunny September Saturday. If the exhibition doesn’t appear anywhere else, or you couldn’t visit anyway, then hopefully the above perks your interest in the artisans, processes, materials and ingredients.
Images: 1. Main space of the exhibition showing various works. It was warmly lit and smelled great; 2. Waxed green Acer leaf in a basket of other waxed leaves, set up for leaf rubbing.
All images unless otherwise stated were taken by me at the exhibition.
Read similar exhibition review + THOUGHT posts, such as:
Mother Goddess of the Three Realms.
Foraging walk with Flavour Fred.