Why this? Why here? Why now? Why me?

They were unexpectedly beautiful: the tawny tanned salmon and sturgeon skins, their patterns punctuated by scale pockets and diamond shaped scutes. I ran my fingers over the surface, tugged the pieces between my hands, brought them up to my nose and sniffed. The scent was vaguely woodsy, which made sense once I understood that after the skin had been scraped clean of all flesh, a brew of tannins from trees was used to slowly transform it into leather. 

Then I learned how strong fish leather is - up to 10 times stronger per thickness than other leather - yielding a thin and flexible but durable result. I could see the commercial potential.

I had wandered into a meeting of environmental artists displaying results from a 2017 group project on fish leather tanning by hand. Just returned from working in value-added agricultural development in the Eastern Caribbean, I was now looking to make an impact at home. As a mid-career professional stretching fully into the freedom of my recently emptied nest after many heavy years of widowed single parenting, I was open and curious about what shape my life would take.

One member in the group suggested they should teach folks with barriers to employment how to tan fish skin into leather, then buy it back. That’s sweet, I reflected, but hardly transformative; it wouldn’t earn anyone more than perhaps enough for a meal here and there. What’s needed is employment. 

The idea crystalized: a social enterprise tannery providing training and employment to workers in need, a strong, beautiful, and iconic Pacific Northwest product made from forest and sea, a new economic model using local supply chains and waste in our own region. 

The idea needed to be investigated and scaled up. And that’s what I set out to do. 

In the next entry for this column, I will start to tell that tale.