## Anthotypes I learned about anthotypes through a YouTube video. Sort of. NileRed, a chemist, wanted to make [cyanotypes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYqn8CO2P3E). I had previously wanted to make iron gall ink and had chemistry on my mind. His video was fascinating and I was inspired to learn more about this photo development process. In my research I came across anthotypes. Some years ago I listened to a [Radiolab episode](https://radiolab.org/podcast/91569-memory-and-forgetting) about memory. The episode detailed what I would later learn is reconstruction theory of memory. As I understand it, memory isn’t so much being stored in your mind; it is not a drawer which your brain will retrieve a memory from. Memory is recreated each time it is recalled, and in each recalling, the memory is subtly altered. Perhaps the focus of that memory had shifted over time. Perhaps what once was painful is now quite dull, or conversely, something had grown in magnitude. The “original” then becomes lost. Anthotypes act similarly as they rely on fugitive dyes as a development agent. These chemicals are sensitive to light and once the reaction begins, there’s no stopping it. In time, the anthotype will fade to nothing. The best source of fugitive dyes come from plants. Readily available, natural and sustainable. Turmeric will give you a golden yellow, beets a rich magenta. It can be site-specific, drawing on the landscape around you. I chose to work with madder root. Madder root was once widely used to produce red dyes before synthetic dyes were created. It was commonly used throughout Asia, Europe, and North Africa. Admittedly, it is an uncommon choice. Madder is valued, in part, for its relative lightfastness. Unlike other anthotype pigments that readily fade in light, madder changes more gradually. It yields more slowly. In Japan, the color derived from madder root is called *akane* (茜). A rich, warm red, it symbolizes the sunset, and thus, symbolizes transition. The name also recalls Yorushika's song, "[[226 茜 Akane|Akane]]," a meditation on knowing another person despite the passing of time. For me, as I watch my daughter grow into adulthood, I am reminded of this transition. As I readjust to a reality without my wife, I am reminded of this impermanence. My exploration of anthotypes is my exploration of memory. Perhaps the focus of my memories will shift over time. Perhaps what once was painful will now be quite dull, or conversely, something else will have grown in magnitude. The original then was never lost to begin with. It changes as I change, from one season to the next and back again.