And so, I began to fill in the weft. Dreaming Myself Awake has been a basket full of yarn for a long time, since a hot summer day in 2011 when I realized that a half dozen balls and skeins of leftover yarn had a purpose and a name. I know I gave away a year along the way, in service to Occupy Wall St. and in Being There for two beloved cats. It doesn’t matter, this is the Now where the fabric takes shape.
It’s going to be an unruly fabric to photograph as a work in progress. I am weaving a slightly gauzy fabric at 10 ends per inch, with the warp being beat according to my mood and the needs of the thread that is in hand. The colors are nuanced, and the camera wants to make them garish and strange, with a honeyed undertone from the old maple loom.
It looks like this, kind of. Let’s say it feels like this.
Well, almost like this. The threading error down the middle has been painstakingly fixed. Usually I leave such things in place, as part of the whim of freestyle weaving. Sometimes I create dense stripes on purpose, by doubling the sett for just a little area. Or gauzy stripes by spreading the warp further apart. I don’t know. This looked too centered. It interfered with the lively purple stripe, and dragged it down into an unhealthy stasis. It had to go.
Don’t you love the heathery blue/purple/burgundy section? It’s a balanced single that I spun from a Loop Spontaneous Spinning Cloud. These clouds spin like an absolute dream, especially because I would rather spin woolen than worsted, and create a fine, lofty yarn rather than a ‘stainless steel wire’, as Judith Mackenzie describes worsted spun yarn.
I am giddy with the joy of creating new fabric. I am keeping mum about what the finished garment will look like. Let’s just say that you could call it a tunic or a jumper (American usage, not British), and that it will look stunning over a turtleneck and leggings.