By Nadia Di Fiore

I’ve never owned a kolinsky sable brush, and honestly, I didn’t want to find out what it was made from. Like many long-time vegans, I figured out early on that animal products pop up in random places—think film stock, crayons, and even temporary tattoos. So this isn’t a tale about discovering my favorite art tool was made from an animal. Instead, it’s about how, even when you know what to dodge, making ethical choices as an artist feels like a scavenger hunt through vague labels, half-truths, and subtle details you can easily miss.

The problem isn’t that info isn’t out there; it’s just that it’s usually not in the places you need it. Art supply brands are all about chatting up their products' texture and color vibrancy, but they often skip the part where that brilliant red pigment comes from beetles or black comes from charred bones. If they mention it at all, it’s typically in a way that makes it sound like a perk rather than a downside. “Genuine ox gall,” one label boasts, like it’s something to brag about. Some materials even get this sentimental vibe, as if boiling animal parts is a badge of honor in the artist's world. So when you’re trying to avoid this stuff, your best bet is usually shooting off an email to customer service and hoping the person on the other end has more than just a marketing sheet to work with.

For me, being vegan isn’t about trends or a “natural” lifestyle. It’s quite simply about skipping animal products entirely, along with any animal testing—whether it’s in your food, skincare, or art supplies. This means avoiding the obvious things, like natural hair brushes or honey-based watercolours, but also being on the lookout for the sneaky stuff: milk proteins in primers, shellac in inks, or cow bile helping those watercolours flow “better.” None of these things is essential; they’re just what the industry has settled into using. Once you stop seeing animals as just ingredients, the whole situation looks pretty bizarre.

There’s a common mindset that some animal ingredients are less of an issue than others—like it’s not so bad to use bone black, while shellac or honey seems more acceptable. But it’s all the same problem: treating animals as mere materials. Whether it’s a beetle, a cow, or a rabbit, the principle is unchanged. They have no say in the matter. Their bodies—or their secretions and efforts—are taken, processed, and sold to make colours more vibrant or things stick better. Just because it’s the norm doesn’t mean it’s any less strange; it just makes it easier to overlook.

A big part of why animal ingredients keep popping up is that the art world is all about tradition. If something was used by romantic or impressionist painters way back in the 1800s, it tends to get a pass. Ox gall is called “a classic wetting agent,” rabbit-skin glue gets hailed as “reliable,” and shellac is seen as a mark of quality. Nobody really stops to ask why beetle resin should still be the go-to binder for ink nowadays or why fish bladders were ever used in making paper. This knowledge just gets repeated without question, and the ethical conversations are conveniently left out.

Avoiding these materials isn’t just a moral stance—it’s also not the easiest task! Most companies don’t put “vegan” on their products, and those that do usually only do it if they think it’ll help them sell. For everything else, you’re left emailing customer service, trying to decode ingredient lists filled with vague terms, or scrolling through forums where opinions are all over the place: “I think it’s fine” versus “absolutely not.” Figuring out if your favourite ink has crushed bugs in it shouldn’t be this hard. Yet unless you’re shopping from a brand that actually cares about being clear, it often is.

There’s not much regulation pushing companies to reveal animal ingredients in art supplies, and they take full advantage. You might see terms like “natural,” “eco-conscious,” or “sustainable,” but a full breakdown of what that actually means? Good luck with that. “Binder” could mean anything from gum arabic to gelatin. “Black pigment” might be synthetic carbon or bone char. Some brands genuinely have no clue—especially when they’re getting their materials from third-party suppliers. Others probably do know, but keep things vague so you’re less likely to reach out.

I try to keep my approach simple. I go with brands I’ve looked into, ask questions when needed, and I’ve accepted that sometimes it’ll take weeks to get a response and still leave out half the stuff I want to know. Over time, I’ve identified a few reliable options—watercolours without ox gall, brushes that don’t claim “natural” equals kind, pencils that don’t use beeswax or milk protein. They exist; it just takes a bit of digging, ideally with a good cup of tea and somewhat low expectations.

What’s super frustrating is how unnecessary it all is. None of these animal-based ingredients is essential! There are synthetic options, plant-based binders, cruelty-free pigments—and they work just as well, if not better. But the art supply industry doesn’t exactly promote transparency, and it certainly doesn’t make it easy to navigate.