I’m feeling restless after spending some concerted time in the studio. It’s time for a road trip! Tromp-as-writ is going on a yarn crawl. I will be visiting two of my favorites, WEBS and Northampton Wools. These were my local yarn stores when I made my home in Northampton. I may also visit a store that’s new to me, Wool and Dye Works in Florence. While they are primarily a rug-hooking store, I’m interested in their woolen fabric because I have this persistent little idea that has been teasing me. Wouldn’t a tiny sliver of woolen fabric make an interesting inlay?
I will also be visiting Shelburne Falls, home of Metaphor Yarns and Vävstuga Swedish Weaving and Folk Arts. These I only know from their Internet presence. It will be an adventure to visit them in person.
All this in two days. I doubt I will be blogging from the road.
I was resigned to hanging the dutiful square little color gamp on the wall behind my loom. After I hemmed the top and fringed the bottom, of course. How traditional and ordinary. That was how I felt about the entire exercise. It was just ordinary. I was ready to move on.
First, I needed a rod to hang it from, and I went rummaging in the umbrella stand. Found one umbrella, a paper parasol, a shepherd’s crook, and assorted rough walking sticks. Hmmm. Here was a branch from Aunt Maple, the beautiful old tree that once stood outside the Aerie window. Perfect, just perfect. The weaving fits on one end, completely off center, like a flag. YES!
I quickly turned a blind hem to make a casing and tied a simple fringe at the bottom, leaving it ragged. YES! YES! YES!
Forget about hanging it behind the loom. It belongs here, above the altar of the Woodland God.
Last week, I had only questions. Today I have answers and they are resoundingly YES! The color gamp is history, and I suppose I did learn something from it, if only to discover that I don’t like regular stripes of huck lace. What I do like is a random melange of soft Egyptian cotton for weft (Thanks, Jojomojo, for the bag of goodies!). I like recycled sari silk. I like having a purpose for weaving but not a plan.
It feels good to have no draft in front of me.
It feels good to have each throw of the shuttle be its own moment.
I don’t have words to describe how it feels to be so present in the weaving.
I think this picture tells the whole story.
Duty comes before pleasure. This rainbow warp was first promised to be a color gamp. However, I am letting the selvedges go as they will, because that is the charm of a handwoven piece.
It is time that I unlearn how to weave.
It is time to let go of the notions of perfect selvedge and yards and yards of uniform fabric.
That warp that I painstakingly threaded with huck lace is a canvas upon which I can create. What happens if I pull out a few warp threads? Regroup the spacing on a few others? What, indeed?
What happens when I use a thick yarn for the warp? Recycled sari silk!!!
What happens when I soften the transitions from color to color, by creating stripes of varying widths?
What about knots! What indeed?
I haven’t felt this energized about weaving in years!
One of the worst pieces of weaving advice was given me when my floor loom was new. Let me tell you what it was and why it was such bad advice for me.
I was all excited to have a new loom, and was so eager to explore my loom. I declared that I was going to put on 10 yards of black warp in plain weave and PLAY!
My erstwhile mentor told me that was the worst thing I could do, and tried to convince me to weave a color gamp first. I simply refused to do that, she then coerced me into picking a project and doing all sorts of wretched math first. I ended up making a chenille scarf but didn’t really enjoy it. I felt like the project was done before I started and I never felt present when I sat down at the loom.
Had my mentor understood me better, she would have realized that I wanted play with yarn texture, and mix all sorts of bright colors under the unifying black warp. I didn’t want to create something precise and mechanical. She never looked at me as a person, just as a potential weaver to be molded in her style. She never realized that I usually wear a combination black and bright colors. That I’m not fashionable, but that I have a strong personal style.
Lately, I have been reading about Saori weaving. Ironically, it often begins with a long black warp in plain weave. Interesting.
As time passes, weaving becomes more about process and less about the technology. Soon, I’ll be weaving on a simple stick loom, and spinning wool using a rock and a stick.
Wait, I do use a simple stick loom.
This is a Journey Loom. It comes apart into a bundle of seven sticks, and fits in a slender quiver.
This is the loom that I take to the rocks above the sea.
This is the loom where I weave my life.
Picking up the warp of a tapestry loom, thread by thread, is as simple as weaving gets. Over. Under. Over. Under. Simple but profound.
Even the yarn is simple. These are colors I dyed years ago, in kettles of natural dyes. The colors of nature all work together in a gentle harmony. These are the colors of Mother Earth Herself.
When it is this simple, words are not necessary. Let the loom speak for herself.
I have a bad habit of saying that I want to hurry up and get the loom dressed so that I can weave. When I say that, I am treating the entire preparation process as something of lesser value than passing the shuttle back and forth. Yes, to weave means to create cloth out of warp and weft, but the process of weaving begins long before that.
It begins with inspiration.
Colors.
Patterns.
Sketches.
Diagrams.
Pouring over catalogues, sample cards, web sites. All in search of the right yarn.
Measuring the warp has a flowing rhythm. With the right music, it becomes a dance.
Threading the heddles and sleying the reed are harder to love, but they are necessary parts of the process. This is the time when I learn to sing the cloth’s song 1-4-1-4-1-2-1-2-3-2-3-2.
I try not to think too much about beaming and tying the warp. I feel like I need three more hands for this stage of weaving. The lease sticks take on a life of their own, and in the end we compromise and agree to make a neat roll on the back beam, a jelly roll of brown paper with thread filling.
Then, finally, I can pick up my shuttle, but I have been weaving all along.
When I saw the Weavettes looms at Rhinebeck in 2002, I was living in a pied-à-terre and really missing my floor loom at home. I thought that weaving these small patches might give me solace. I also thought that I might be able to weave on the train.
Weaving on the train proved to be impractical. The weaving needle is quite long and so is the warp thread at the beginning of the block. In 2002, people were still very skittish about weapons on transit, so I put aside the idea of weaving on the train, and made a few amulet bags from the blocks I wove at home.
Last week, I bought the 4 x 4 Hazel Rose loom, and am tempted to try again. These blocks look great when the finished object is fulled (felted) vigorously. There is a really cute purse in the January/February 2009 issue of Handwoven magazine. I will use 4 of the rectangular blocks in lieu of 6 square ones, so nothing is wasted. I won’t weave on the train, but I could weave while I’m waiting in the station.
If any reader is interested in trading a 4 x 4 Weavette loom, in very good condition, for this brand new Hazel Rose loom, please let me know. I prefer the light weight and compactness of the Weavette brand, but the Hazel Rose was in stock. The Hazel Rose is a beautiful hand-made loom compared to the Weavette (made in China), but I’m willing to consider it an even trade.
Weavettes
Maker – Buxton Brook Looms
Model - 4 x 6 Weavette, 2 x 4 Weavette
Age - 7 years
Weaving Mode: Continuous warp and weft
Sett: 8epi
Wood - Maple
Hazel Rose
Maker – Hazel Rose Looms
Model - 4 x 4 Multi-loom
Age - just purchased
Weaving Mode: Continuous warp and weft
Sett: 8 epi
Wood - Maple
Don’t ask me how many looms I have in my studio, because I’ll give you a different answer every time. If I’m not thinking, I will say ONE, because I have one floor loom and it’s too big to forget. Given a little more time, I might say THREE, remembering the Journey Loom and the inkle loom. A few minutes later, I’ll say FOUR, acknowledging the big Tri-Loom that is stored under the sofa. Actually, the right answer is SEVEN because there are three little Weavette and Hazel Rose looms that are so small that they are easily forgotten.
Webs was my local yarn store when I bought my floor loom in 1990 and Barbara Elkins guided me through the process of selecting the right loom for my weaving interests. I am more interested in color and yarn texture than I am in weaving complex patterns, so a 4 harness loom was right for me.
Floor Loom
Maker – Schacht Spindle Co.
Model - 46” Floor Loom
Age - 19 years. This loom was made on December 28, 1989.
Weaving Mode: Jack
Harness /Treadles - 4 harness, 6 treadles
Heddles – flat stainless
Reeds - 12 dent
Options and Accessories – high castle, lamp holders, Schacht bobbin winder, bench with accessory bags, Purrington Angel Wings
Dimensions:
weaving width 46”
Height – 46”
Width – 53”
Depth – 38” when opened, 26” when rear leg is folded in.
Weight – 118#
Shed - Rising
Wood - Maple
