Cotton Is Gold

Hello Reader,

Paper doesn’t start as paper.
It starts as fiber.

And one of the strongest, most archival papers in the world is cotton.

The same cotton that built empires.
The same cotton that built this country.
The same cotton that cost us everything.

When cotton is processed into fine art paper, it becomes rag pulp — soft yet strong, incredibly durable, and museum-grade, capable of lasting for centuries.

That matters to me.

Because when I make pulp paintings and papier-mache sculptures, I’m not just thinking about texture. I’m thinking about permanence. I’m thinking about what survives.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about where that cotton comes from.

Not in theory.
In reality.

There are Black cotton farmers still working the land, not as forced labor, but as owners. As stewards. As strategists.

Like Julius Tillery, a fifth-generation farmer in Northampton County, North Carolina, his family held onto land through Reconstruction, Jim Crow, discrimination, and economic pressure, all of it.

That’s not accidental.
That’s resistance.

Cotton built American wealth.
But very little of that wealth stayed in Black hands.

So here’s the question I keep sitting with:

What does it mean to take cotton, the material that once extracted value from our bodies, and turn it into generational wealth through ownership, design, innovation, and art?

Because cotton isn’t just history.

Cotton is infrastructure.

It becomes denim.
It becomes a canvas.
It becomes fine art paper.
It becomes an archival surface.

Cotton is gold.
Cotton is king.

And when sourced intentionally, cotton becomes a strategy.

I’ve been researching ways to incorporate cotton from Black farmers directly into my paper pulp practice. Not symbolically. Literally. Julius Tillery is one of those farmers.

Cotton into pulp.
Pulp into form.
Form into legacy.

There’s something powerful about reclaiming the fiber at the root.

Not as trauma.
As authorship.

Brands like Actively Black are doing this in the apparel space, keeping ownership, manufacturing, and narrative aligned. Circulating dollars back into the community. Designing from a position of agency.

That’s not just branding.

That’s economics.

And as artists, we don’t talk enough about material economics.

Where we source matters.
Who profits matters.
What lasts matters.

High-quality cotton rag paper can last centuries. Museums collect it. Institutions preserve it. Archives protect it.

So imagine this:

Cotton grown by Black farmers.
Processed into fine art pulp.
Formed into sculptural work.
Collected by institutions.
Held in archives.
Passed through generations.

That’s not just art.

That’s a closed loop.
That’s legacy architecture.

I don’t want to make work that disappears in ten years.

I want to build work that holds.
Work that is materially strong.
Historically aware.
Economically intelligent.

Cotton built America.

Now I’m interested in building with it differently.

Back in the studio studying fiber content, testing pulp ratios, thinking about permanence.

We’re not just making art.

We’re designing futures.

Warmest regards, Lisa

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