Tincture is a design language for catalogues of living things — a dark herbarium cabinet where every specimen is mounted, labelled, and read by the depth of what it gives up.
Each entry is a mounted sheet: a painted specimen, a binomial in italic, and a stem of notes that grew the way the plant did — one node at a time.
Digitalis purpurea gives the deepest draw on the shelf — potent enough that the cabinet stays locked and the vial is labelled twice.
Achillea millefolium draws fast and clean. By dusk on the third week the column had found its level and cleared straight into the register.
Sambucus nigra keeps a pale, luminous draw — the kind you read against the lamp to be sure the colour is even before you label it.
The same still runs every specimen. Worth is never declared — it is drawn off and measured.
Cut the aerial parts at first light, before the bruise of the day dulls the colour.
Lay flat under even weight; the pigment settles into the tooth of the paper.
Submerge in warm spirit and let it draw its colour down in the dark.
Press the marc, read the depth, and copy the binomial onto the rail.
Mount your first specimen, draw its essence, and let the cabinet keep what matters.
Begin a folio