Will Mushrooms Make Styrofoam Obsolete?
The New Yorker, May 2013
excerpted by Shea Moss
The May 2013 issue of New Yorker magazine had an article by Ian Frazier about a mycelium-based packaging material destined to make styrofoam packaging obsolete. Gavin McIntyre and Eben Bayer, two students from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York, grow all-natural substitutes for plastic from chitin molecules found in polypores.
McIntyre and Bayer were taking a class from Professor Burt Swersey called Inventor’s Studio. When McIntyre and Bayer took the class in the fall term of their senior year, neither came up with anything very workable at first. Gavin’s idea for a car-exhaust attachment that would burn off emissions with charged plasma was ingenious but probably unsafe. “Like driving around with a lightning bolt in your tailpipe.” Eben’s idea for a no-moving parts turbine that could generate electricity in high winds by means of sound did not impress Swersey at all.
Toward the end of their first semester, Eben thought of a previous R.P.I. class, in which he had been given the problem of making insulation panels out of a mineral called perlite. The difficulty with perlite is that it’s loose, like handfuls of popped popcorn, and tends to settle.
Eben, who is the product of a one room schoolhouse in rural Vermont, grew up helping his Dad, a maple sugar farmer, on a one hundred forty acre sugarbush farm. Ranks of maple trees rise on the rocky hillsides above the farm. In the spring they would tap thousands of the best trees and connect them to a vat in the sugarhouse by PVC tubes along the steep ground. Father and son built a complicated wood chip burner to process the syrup in the sugar shack, without burning the roof down. One of Eben’s chores was to move the wood chips to the burner from on open bunker made of telephone poles and chicken wire. Though covered with a tarp, the pile of chips sometimes got wet and sprouted mushrooms. Eben noticed how the fine white fabric of their mycelium sometimes grew through the pile so tenaciously that big bunches of chips stuck together in a single clump.
Eben ordered a grow-it-yourself mushroom kit while he was home during a break. He took the mushroom spores the kit contained, combined them with water and nutrients in a glass jar, added some perlite, and put the jar in the basement. When he checked a few days later, the jar held a solid white disk of perlite knit together by mycelium strands.
With not much else to show for the semester of Inventor’s Studio, Eben brought the perlite disk to class. “He takes this thing out of his pocket,” Swersey recalled, “and it’s white, this amazing piece of insulation that had been grown, without hydrocarbons, with almost no energy used. The stuff could be made with almost any waste materials — rice husks, cotton wastes, stuff farmers throw away, stuff they have no market for — and it wouldn’t take away from anybody’s food supply, and it could be made anywhere from local materials, so you could cut down on transportation costs. And it would be completely biodegradable! What more could you want?”
Gavin and Eben worked together for the next year trying all kinds of substrates and heating methods. Twice, they almost burned the lab at school down. They tried lint from clothes dryers, Jell-o, lobster shells, even hair. (“If it worked we were going to call the product Hairsulate.”)
Instead of hunting for venture capital, Eben and Gavin financed their company by winning grants and competitions. They were still proceeding in the Edisonian hit or miss style, when Sue Van Hook, a senior teaching associate in biology and natural sciences at Skidmore College, in Saratoga Springs, read an article in the local Albany Times Union. When studying for her degree in botany at Humboldt State University in California, she took a course in mycology and was smitten. She wrote her graduate thesis on macrofungi and has been studying mushrooms in the field and under microscopes ever since. After eighteen years of teaching at Skidmore, she saw something that changed her life. She called Eben and talked with him for two hours. She asked Gavin if he knew anything about mushrooms. Neither knew much. She asked, “Can we get married?” (In the fungal sense, I presume).
Van Hook went on wide-ranging mushroom hunts collecting new species for the company’s archives. At Skidmore’s bio labs, she and her students spent hours cataloguing the finds and recording their characteristics. The most useful mycelium came from a group of polypores. The mycelium of polypores has very strong hyphae. These hyphae can knit a molded piece of substrate solidly together. A single cubic inch of substrate can contain as much as eight miles of mycelium.
Bayer and McIntyre’s invention creates natural substances that imitate plastics. The packaging material made by their factory takes a substrate of agricultural waste, steam pasturizes it, adds trace nutrients and a small amount of water, injects the mixture with pellets of mycelium, puts it in a mold shaped like a piece of packing that protects a product during shipping, and sets the mold on a rack in the dark. Four days later the mycelium has grown throughout the substrate into the shape of the mold, producing a material almost indistinguishable from Styrofoam in form, function, and cost. An application of heat kills the mycelium and stops the growth. When broken up and thrown into a compost pile, the packing material biodegrades in about a month.
Van Hook retired from Skidmore to work full time with Eben and Gavin at their company, which they call Evocative. She gives lectures to prospective clients and investors where she projects on screen the molecular structures of chlorophyll, starch, glucose, cellulose, lignin, and chitin. “These are the molecules that nature builds with. For us to have a sustainable planet, we must design and build with these.”
The air nearby Evocative often smells of cream of mushroom soup. In a corner of the building a sealed-off space called the Dirty Room receives the agricultural wastes and other substrate materials when they come in. Big white nylon bags filled with chopped up cornstalks, husks, crushed remains of cotton plants, barley hulls, peanut hulls, buckwheat hulls, milo hulls, hemp pith, rice husks, wheat straw and ground up old blue denim. At a conference, Gavin holds up a block about the size of half a stick of butter, lighter than balsa, but as hard as pine, a piece of solid mycelium pure chitin that had been grown from nutrients and without any substrate. He said it had possible applications for aeronautics. He added that chitin is also an excellent insulator, and explained how he and his colleagues are growing electric circuits on fungal tissue made of the mycelium of household mold.
In the presence of toxic materials, certain molds get around the toxicity by sequestering the metals onto their cell walls. Therefore you can put tissue taken from the mold into a copper solution and impregnate the tissue with varying amounts of copper by changing the concentration. In other words, you can make a fungal resistor that can be part of the circuitry in a computer or a cell phone. Then, instead of sending old computers and phones to be taken apart hazardously in the Third World, you can recycle them with the chitin providing nutrients for new tissue and the metals going back into a solution to be reused.
In a press release dated September 24, 2013, Evocative Designs announced upcoming production of Myco Foam surfboard core material.