This and that

Happy Autumnal Equinox!

This is the day we begin the inward journey, toward winter and toward the deepest understanding of our own hearts. As an introvert/hermit on the mountaintop, I am so ready for this moment. Summer overwhelms me in so many ways–all the gatherings and events, all the noise and running about, and all the oppressive heat.  Give me a warm sweater and the scent of fallen leaves! I do love autumn.

I’ve started to sew the coverlet to its sheepskin backing. One side is done. It’s still too hot to work under such a warm and weighty piece, so I sew for a little while, first thing in the morning, and put it aside in the midday heat. I can’t wait to snuggle under it some frosty evening.

Here’s a tablecloth warp, all pre-sleyed and ready to beam on. I think this will be a good example for showing Lori how to use a ‘trapeze,’ since they are ideal for putting even tension on a wide warp. Traditionally, you would have two people help you beam on a warp like this. It will weave up at 1 meter in width. This is slated to be the inaugural warp for the shaft drawloom. 9 meters of cottolin goodness. There will be more than 1 table cloth from it. The first one I have planned is inspired by a classic and simple piece I wove in Drawloom Basics at Vävstuga.

I am in love with my face cloth! I recently wove this on a 16/2 cotton warp, using 16/2 line linen weft. It has a gentle exfoliating action. If your idea of luxury is all about having healthy, glowing skin, you will absolutely love this face cloth. I have plans to weave more, because I can’t bear it when this is in the laundry and I have to wash my face on something ordinary. Expect to see hand towels and spa towels in the near future!

Weave in peace and joy!

 

SaveSave

Making community

Weaving is mostly a solitary pursuit, especially when you need to concentrate at the drawloom. That’s OK, because I am an introvert at heart, and I require a great deal of solitude just to recharge myself after being among people. Yet, I love the time spent with others who make yarn, cloth and clothing.

I have long sustained an image of a community of weavers. It’s not a guild. I know that because I tried participating in a guild, only to realize that it took too much time away from actual weaving, and didn’t often align with my vision of creating calm and practical cloth.

Thinking like a dreamer, I had an image of a small cluster of homes, with shared studio space at the center. I also saw flax fields, dye gardens, and  communal flocks of sheep and cashmere goats around the perimeter of the clearing, and woods beyond that. Looking more closely at the shared studio, I saw the benefits of pooling our libraries and our knowledge, and of having someone there to lend a hand with beaming on a long and stubborn warp, or to give a bit of inspiration. If only I could find an intentional community like this. If only this beautiful dream were a reality.

It’s important to dream, but the dense strands of longing need to be prodded and teased apart into something more attainable and immediate.

I’ve thought of offering the guest bedroom and use of a loom to someone who would live in for a summer, helping me grow and process a small flax crop. That may happen, eventually. It will only make sense when I’m at home more often.

For now, I’m satisfied with making community one afternoon at a time, sharing what I know, receiving others’ knowledge in return, and taking pleasure in being able to give. It’s what makes me whole.

We’ve done some radical things lately, improving a Leclerc Colonial counterbalance loom by replacing most of the innards with Glimåkra and Texsolv parts. It’s amazing how the best looms are really a collection of sticks and strings. Leclerc looms are a bit over-engineered and I don’t mean that in a good way.

Things are getting radical in my studio, too. I bought a 50 shaft combination drawloom and am slowly getting it set up. I’ve also started on the next project for my handwoven home: face cloths and towels.

No pictures today. Soon. I promise.

Quintessentially Glimåkra

While I was setting up my drawloom, a few respected weavers called into question whether my big Scandinavian loom was a Glimåkra Standard at all. At first, I shrugged it off. Then I started to wonder, and it started to bother me a great deal. By questioning Per’s origins in that way, there was an implication that I should know better than to expect an inferior pile of cobbled together loom parts to behave like a proper loom.

When I though I had the only loom like this in the world, it was a plausible theory. The day that a second loom, exactly like mine, showed up half-way across the country, it was time to come up with a better theory.

The answer was in plain sight on the GAV Glimakra website:

In 1950 the two entrepreneurs Lennart Persson and Yngve Nilsson started Glimåkra Vävstolsfabrik (loom making factory) in the small town of Glimåkra in the south of Sweden. 1975 this company was bought by one of the larger groups of companies in Sweden, the Bonnier Group.

 

In 1999 GAV bought the loom manufacturing and the right to the brand name from Glimåkra and moved the loom manufacturing to Oxberg, near Mora.

Knowing that my loom was purchased in Sweden in the late 60’s, and later brought to the US by it’s first owner, what I have is a genuine old–dare I say original–Glimåkra Vävstolsfabrik loom with it’s proper bench. In those days, Glimåkra looms had four spokes on their ratchet wheels. They were shaped a bit differently than today. They were virtually unknown in the US.

You can just call him Per Persson.

First project ON the drawloom

While the assembly of the drawloom consumed most of my summer and early autumn, I am now completely consumed by weaving the first project on my Myrehed single unit drawloom.

img_0451

There is something so satisfying about pulling draw cords according to the charted design that I drew. I feel like I have finally found an outlet for my somewhat primitive drawing skills. And, should I not feel like drawing, there are so many sources for charted traditional folk art motifs.

One of my uncles kept bees, and I have given serious thought to getting a hive. Bees are a threatened resource because of the pesticides used in industrial farming. I shudder to think of a world without bees, for it would be a world without fruits and vegetables.

What stopped me from getting a hive is that it would produce 40-50 pounds of honey a year. I probably use a pound of honey in a good year.

Instead, I shall weave my hive and bees, and buy my honey and beeswax from a local farm.

This is the  beginning of a pair of casual napkins for the kitchen table, woven in broken twill using 8/2 cotton. They will be perfect for the breakfast table, especially when serving toast with honey.

Deep into the cloth

When I am deep into the cloth, in the light trance that comes from repetitive movement, my mind is free. Sometimes I think deeply; other times, not at all, just riding along on the cycle of movement.

Yesterday, I sat on the deck, weaving a narrow band in fine wool. Colorful stripes. It was difficult to get into the trance state, because I had to focus on keeping the band a consistent width.  This is more of a concern with fine yarn because the band heddle spreads it so wide. Then I broke a warp thread. There may be a rough spot on this band heddle. I have not used it before.

My thoughts were light, mostly on why some looms, such as band heddles, are nameless tools and other looms call for names. They are all weavers’ tools, like anything else in the studio. Didn’t I just read on a forum that there’s no shame in having a loom without a project on it. I’m not troubled when there’s no warp on the warping mill, or no quill on the bobbin winder. Why should I be concerned that there is no warp on one of my looms?

I don’t know. I need to carry the question with me for a while longer.

While I’ve made much mental progress on what needs to be done to fit the loom extension to my loom, and I have an elegant solution in mind where three modifications will correct all five issues, there has been no physical progress on it.

I am not ready to wind the linen warp for the drawloom. Not yet. Linen warps should not linger in a basket, waiting to be used. They get into all sorts of mischief. It’s just their nature.

One loom will be naked for a while longer. It’s just his nature.

 

Wicked productive

Said with my best approximation of a Massachusetts accent, of course. It is the place I call home now, so I might as well use the local idiom.

I have been wicked productive in the past few weeks. My winter study project in the Swedish art weaves of the Skåne region is off the loom. Yes, it ran long past winter, but I was having such fun with it. I am thrilled to see the fabric, because it was woven face down. It’s fabric for a tote bag. This is the front

IMG_6792The plainer design at the bottom is for the back of the tote.IMG_6790Another project from the winter is finally done. You may recall this shawl, called Opposites Attract. I’m going to appreciate its thickness and warmth on a cold winter’s day. Today, I am content to drape it over a chair in the library and enjoy the warmth of a fine June day.

IMG_6789 (1)

What’s happening in the studio?

I still have warp for more Swedish art weaves on the 4-shaft Julia. The other Julia is set up to weave the wide border for my Stjerne coverlet.  Three meters done, and four to go. Per, my big old Standard, is naked, as is often the case, but there is something very exciting in his future. I have purchased a ‘harnesk’  or single-unit drawloom! There are some minor technical difficulties in getting the loom extension set up.  Per is a non-standard Standard. There are loom parts all over the studio right now. It looks like a loom exploded in there.

I have fallen in love with weaving damask, and am so excited that I will be able to do it in my own studio. Here are two pieces that I wove at Vävstuga Weaving School a few weeks ago.

IMG_6720 IMG_8950