The ritual of the color of fishing nets _In Sant’Antioco, the small island of 108 square kilometers in the southwest of Sardinia, the sea once had its own secret codes. Fishing nets were not only tools; they were a mark of family, memory, and identity.
The nets were colored using natural mixtures made from wild plants like mastic tree (lentisk) and pine bark. The pigments lasted for whole seasons under the sun. Three main shades dominated the island: rusty red, faded blue, and light ochre. Each family had its own tone, and from the pier one could easily see to whom a net belonged (the boat, the crew, the story).
These colors also had a protective role. Mastic and pine acted against mold and insects, working better than many modern chemical products. Nature itself gave fishermen both color and protection.
The recipes were never written down. They were passed only by word of mouth from the dye masters to the next generation. Some say the custom started with the Phoenicians. The first written evidence appears in the 1700s, but the tradition had already been alive for centuries.
Identity and invention
The nets were handmade. Women in the family often sewed them for days, with patience and precision. Fishermen then adapted the nets to their own needs.
These gears were called ‘Ingegno’ (from Latin ingenium), in the Mediterranean “lingua franca” known as Sabir, spoken in ports and markets between the Middle Ages, meaning ‘invention in the engineering sense of applied inventiveness. The idea has echoes in the Arabic term ḥiyal (حِيَل), meaning inventiveness, artifice, or stratagem, often used in medieval texts on mechanical devices.
To lose a net was more than losing money. It meant losing family work, long hours, and part of one’s identity. It was a serious responsibility.
Today: change and new problems
Today, everything is different. Modern chemistry has replaced plants and the sun. Nets are uniform, anonymous, without colors of identity. In the museums of Sant’Antioco, only some fragments of old colored nets remain, silent witnesses of another time.
Still, the problem of recognizing one’s own tools has never disappeared. Along the coasts of Kenya, fishermen organized in Beach Management Units (BMUs) still struggle with stolen nets and engines. The tools are now cheap and easy to buy, but also easy to lose or abandon.
Because modern nets are mass-produced and easier to acquire, fishermen are less careful. Instead of repairing, many prefer to replace. This makes the collective damage worse: every net lost is not just a personal loss, but a danger to nature.
A lesson from Sant’Antioco
The story of Sant’Antioco is not only a local tradition; it is a lesson in sustainability. It shows that even simple tools can carry value, history, and identity. In today’s world of uniform products, the old colors of Sant’Antioco speak like a forgotten language.
A colored net from the past makes us ask: how can we reconnect community, environment, and work? When we abandon nets, we lose both fish and culture. When we forget traditions, we also forget how to give meaning to our daily actions.
From Sant’Antioco comes a reminder: even the smallest gesture, coloring a net with plants and sun, can tell a story of belonging, respect, and invention.
The ritual of the color of fishing nets
