Charcoal has been a vital tool for artists for centuries. The soft, expressive lines it creates have graced everything from Renaissance sketches to modern-day masterpieces. Vine charcoal has long been a personal favorite of mine; I love the way it feels when it moves across the page, and I have spent countless hours in life drawing classes using charcoal as my primary medium.
Historically, one of the finest sources of drawing charcoal has been grape vines. Vine charcoal, prized for its smooth, rich blacks and delicate tonal range, has long been favored by artists for sketching and underpainting. The reason vines are ideal for this process lies in their fibrous structure and high cellulose content, which allows them to burn down evenly, creating a fine-grained charcoal that is easy to manipulate.
Since my recent art opening at Lincoln Peak Vineyard was a celebration of place and process, I wanted to offer something special to guests; something that directly connected to the land. The vineyard's pruned grapevines presented the perfect opportunity to test out the process of creating my own vine drawing charcoal, and I am so excited to share the results with you!
The Process of Making Vine Charcoal
Step 1: Selecting and Preparing the Vines
The vines I used were a variety of sizes, freshly pruned from the vineyard. Many were still green inside, which meant they would retain more of their shape and structure during the burning process. I peeled the bark from the larger vines with a potato peeler, while leaving the bark on the smaller ones, curious to see if this would create any difference in the final texture of the charcoal.
Using pruning shears, I trimmed the vines down to a length that would fit inside a metal paint can that I picked up from the hardware store.
Step 2: Packing
To ensure even burning, I packed the trimmed vines vertically in the can as tightly as possible. I then poked a small hole in the top of the can and hammered it shut. This is a crucial step; the hole allows the gasses to escape while also preventing oxygen from entering. If too much air gets inside the can, the vines will burn to ash rather than transforming into charcoal.
Step 3: The Burn
With the can sealed, I built a fire and waited until the coals were glowing hot. Then, I carefully placed the can on top of the coals, surrounding it with additional wood to maintain the heat. There also happened to be a gorgeous calm snow the evening that I made my fire; and I watched with a mix of calm and contented excitement as I waited for the fire to work its alchemy.
As the fire burned, I noticed a hissing sound as gases escaped through the hole in the lid. The volatile compounds were burning off the vines--water vapor, resins, and organic material breaking down, leaving behind nearly pure carbon. After about thirty minutes, the escaping smoke ignited into a flame which shot out the top of the can like a small blow torch. This was pretty thrilling, while also being a key indicator that the process was almost complete. The flame gradually lost it's force, burning down to a small flicker and then going out, at which point I knew the process was complete. I removed the can from the fire and put it in a safe place to cool overnight.
A warning here: opening the can too soon could expose the hot charcoal to oxygen, turning it to dust.
A Connection Between Place and Art
The process of making my own charcoal from Lincoln Peak's grapevines deepened my connection to both the materials I use and the landscape that inspires my work. The vines that once bore fruit for wine were transformed into tools for drawing; an artistic cycle of creation, destruction, and rebirth. The vines bore the character of the grape vines they came from, and I loved handing them out to guests at the art gathering. We were able to discuss the process and the various character of the vines, noticing that the ones that kept their bark through the firing process had varying texture in their lines on the page, while those that had been peeled before firing resulted in a more uniform mark.
In the end, the final product wasn't just charcoal; it was a reminder that art and place are inseparable, that even the simplest tools can carry a story, and that materials found in the landscape can become part of the creative process in ways both practical and poetic.
Make sure you are signed up for my newsletter Earth & Easel, so that you don't miss further updates on my continuing collaboration with the vineyard this fall, and the natural pigment exploration process that results from our collaboration!
-Mira
Artist, Growing in Process
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