Norwegian Indigo: The Alchemy of Green Leaves and Blue Dreams
- Asia Zięba-Rusevicius
- Aug 14
- 5 min read
Updated: Oct 24
Japan originated Basil look-alike, blue maker: the secret of green leaves turning fjord-grown plants into brilliant indigo.
For a long time, I dreamed and experimented to see if indigo could grow in Norway. With our harsh winters, short summers, and limited sunlight, it felt almost like a mission impossible. But is it really?
Indigo boasts a history that spans thousands of years. It was first obtained from the Indigofera tinctoria plant. Archaeological findings in Peru reveal its use as early as 6,000 years ago. Across ancient Asia, Egypt, Mesopotamia, and West Africa, indigo was treasured for dyeing textiles. India rose to prominence as a major center for its cultivation, production, and refinement.
The genus Indigofera—which encompasses most plants known as indigo—comprises more than 750 species of shrubs, trees, and herbs thriving in tropical and subtropical regions worldwide, according to Britannica. Yet throughout history, only a few have been especially valued for dye-making. Chief among them are Indigofera tinctoria (true indigo) and Indigofera arrecta (Natal indigo) or Persicaria tinctoria.
From there, the dye traveled along ancient trade routes to Europe. It first competed with woad, the local blue dye. Indigo’s deeper, longer-lasting color—and later its successful cultivation in the Americas—eventually secured its dominance. It became an icon of textile history and the hallmark of denim workwear.
In Europe, woad (Isatis tinctoria) was once the main source of blue dye. But over time, the richer hue and greater vibrancy of Indian indigo won the continent over.
Getting good-quality indigo seeds these days isn’t easy. But once you have them, the rest of the process seems simple. Well… in theory 😄—when you already know exactly what you’re doing.
It’s taken me six years to get to this point. For most of that time, I grew my indigo in pots on the terrace. This was enough for a few small pieces of fresh-dyed fabric, but not much more. When we bought a house with a garden, I couldn’t wait to try my first bigger batch. It looked simple, right? Again… in theory—if you know how to grow plants in Norway and what can go wrong. I didn’t.
For several seasons, I suspected the seeds I’d been buying weren’t fresh—or simply not viable. My germination rate was under 15%, which was painful. Especially since the seeds were expensive and had to be ordered from outside Norway.
Over time, research led me to a biologist in France who truly knows his indigo. From him, I learned about different types of Japanese indigo—the variety I’d been most interested in for years of trials.
But seeds weren’t my only challenge. Growing next to a fjord means battling heavy rains, strong winds, sudden temperature drops, and unreliable sun and heat. Last year, these conditions wiped out my entire harvest.
This year, I’m better prepared: more space, better protection from the elements—and, at last, better seeds.
Sowing & Germination
As I’ve already mentioned, good seeds are everything—and this year’s batch was a dream. They had a 99% germination rate, which honestly left me happily surprised! I also started sowing earlier than last year. Here in Norway, spring has a way of surprising us. It arrives at a different time every year—sometimes with snow and ice still in the garden by the end of April.
That means sowing has to be done indoors (or in a warm greenhouse), keeping the temperature steady at around 20–22 °C. Within 20 days, the seedlings were already 10 cm tall—healthy, strong, and growing fast. I replanted them once, and by mid-May, they were ready (25 cm) to move into their new, improved garden “houses.”
This season, I chose to grow three types of Japanese indigo: Koiko, Senbon, and Maruba.
Houses for Growing
To protect the plants from all the elements I mentioned earlier, the best solution is a greenhouse. Since we didn’t have space for one large structure, we opted for several smaller ones with separate closures. They’re made of glass, give easy access for watering and harvesting, and have been a real game-changer.
Inside these little houses, the indigo grew over a meter tall without suffering from wind damage or rain tearing the leaves. They stayed safe and warm in all conditions. I think they truly enjoyed the environment—on warm days, the humidity and heat inside were perfect for them.
So far, I’ve had four harvests, and I’m dreaming of a fifth. But with next week’s weather turning, I may have to lower my expectations.
Harvests & Pigment Extraction
This year, I was truly lucky—the plants grew so fast I could barely keep up. Maybe it’s the magic of that fjord view? 😄 With three planting boxes, I harvested one at a time, preparing each batch for fermentation. I used only the leaves (which added extra work) because of my container’s limited capacity.
As soon as one batch was ready, I’d start the next the following week. And so it went—week after week, all summer long. Quite a lot of activity for one season! 😄
Fermentation
I have gathered about 1.5-2.0 kg of fresh (only leaves) indigo. I kept a sealed container in the heated floor bathroom as it was still not warm enough at night outside. This gave us 3-4 days of ready liquid.
Pigment Extraction
The first liquid, except for its specific smell, is quite transparent-ish, getting lots of foam while doing its 20 turns. The second part, after lowering pH, instantly turns bluish turquoise and, after airing, shifts toward a deeper blue.
Summary and Results
This was really a small project. There were many learnings along the way. So numbers are only for me to follow up next season.
Below, you can see the timeline from sowing to harvesting and finally pigment extraction—a good half-year of steady, rewarding work.
As of now, I was able to grow 8 kg of indigo, counted leaves only. From this, I have extracted 74 g of indigo powder. This can allow me to dye almost 1 kg of fabric, so not so bad. That will be my next test to check how it works.
My hopes were to see a difference between the breeds, but as my extraction is still premature, I believe this will have to wait until I stabilize the process better. From the beginning, I noticed that the hue of my pigment differs from the purchased pigment (Indian).
Sum of fresh leaves and extracted pigment.
sum fresh leaves | 8.38 |
Sum fresh leaves for pigment | 5.43 |
Sum pigment | 0.74 |
Sum dry leaves | xx |
Qty of possible fabric dye | 833 |
In terms of hue, as I noticed at the initial stage, these samples turned out very different from the Indian indigo I have. Visually, they’re closer to woad, although spectro readings show they contain less yellow than woad. Among them, Maruba comes closest to woad.
None of the samples matched true Indian indigo, which makes me wonder—could it be my process? The location? Is it possible that in Norway, I simply won’t achieve the same levels of color intensity as in Asia? Perhaps. More to discover!
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