My year in review

It hardly seems possible that it is New Year's Eve already. Where did the year go? I thought I would take this opportunity to look back on what I accomplished this year and how it fit into my goals.

A year ago my goal was to learn the skills I needed to complete a replica of the triangular Mammen artifacts. The new skill I needed to learn was brocade tablet weaving. I didn't reach that goal, but that doesn't mean I did not grow during the year.

I began the year completing 3 projects for King & Queen's A&S competition. You can see them if you look back in this blog. The embroidery project highlighted the level of my skill in this craft, but didn't push me to learn new stitches or history. I enjoy embroidery, but I am not passionate about it. The most fun was spinning the thread. With the nalbinding project I began to learn how to tease out new information from an artifact. While the period weaving project was really more about testing my hypotheses about spun thread, I also began to learn about the relationship between the weaving and the thread, and what that means for the finished cloth.

Much of my time during the year was spent spinning and knitting my mother's cashmere scarf. That was a joy to create. I increased my skill at spinning short staple fiber, and greatly improved my knitting skill.

I spent the year seeking new fibers to spin, and to date have played with 25 animal fibers, plus silk. This taught me a lot about how the different characteristics of the breeds impact how they are spun. My skill as a spinner improved as I learned to confidently manipulate different staples lengths, crimpiness, slipperiness, etc. I no longer have a "favorite breed" - I like them all.

In the summer, I was invited to present my period spinning research at the 2013 International Congress on Medieval Studies, at Western Michigan University. (It's a bit scary, but I'm excited, too.) Much of my time in the fall was spent spinning to fill in gaps in my research, and beginning to re-write my paper for an academic audience. I am looking forward to meeting Gail Owen Crocker (the moderator for my session), and I hope to have an opportunity to talk to her about the Mammen artifacts.

The one thing I did this year toward my original goal was to take a brocade tablet weaving class at Hrim Schola. While this class taught me the basics of what I need to know, perhaps the most important thing I learned was that there are many people in the SCA who are passionate about tablet weaving, and I am not one of them. I suppose I can console myself with the fact that in period it would have been highly unlikely that the same person completed the nalbinding portion of the artifact as completed the tablet weaving part.

Sometimes the path life takes is different than the one expected. That doesn't mean one shouldn't set a destination. There is a reason why I called this blog "the meandering drop spinner." I always set myself a goal, but my curiosity takes me in many directions along the way. It may take me longer to get there, but I generally find I am a better person for having wandered.

Merry Christmas

I love this time of calm - all the presents have been made and distributed. Joyous time spent with family that I don't get to see often enough is now a happy memory. I knit a few more gifts over the past two months, and learned a couple of new techniques...

brioche knitting

and double knitting.

And I made some mittens, a hat and a dog sweater...

 (handspun Jacob & BFL)

The most complex gift was a scarf I made for my mother, at the request of my Dad. It is handspun cashmere, and a challenging lace pattern (the reason why I was learning to knit lace). It took me 6 months to spin and knit.

I think everyone liked their gifts as much as I enjoyed making them.

Now I've started a new spinning project. But more about that in the new year. To anyone who reads my blog, I wish you peace.

Drop spinning

When I was first learning to spin on a drop spindle, I was told that once I was able to control my drafting, I would find my natural gauge - the size of yarn my hand would tend to naturally make. Instead, I found the key to making any size thread or yarn I needed.

That "natural gauge" is more a matter of the optimum gauge for the spindle in use than it is the natural gauge for the spinner. Some people only like to make one thing, and they have found a spindle and spinning technique that fits their need. I have a friend who's favorite thing is to knit gossamer weight lace shawls. She has no need to spin anything but an extremely fine thread. Her spindles are small and light, which makes the spinning easy. If she had a heavy spindle, it would be much more difficult for her to make those gossamer threads.

I prefer variety. Some days I want to spin a fine thread to try my hand at weaving or lace knitting or embroidery. Some days I want to spin a thicker yarn to nalbind a warm hat. I choose my spindle accordingly - light and compact for a fine thread; a heavier rim-weighted spindle for a bulky yarn. A few of my spindles are versatile enough to make a wide range of gauges.

I learned to spin on a modern mid-weight (just under an ounce) rim-weighted spindle. It's perfect for making a DK weight yarn, and will spin a nice sock yarn or even a heavier worsted yarn. I spun happily, making scarves and mittens with my yarn, until the day I got an antique whorl. Suddenly, everything I thought I knew about spinning went out the window.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not make a thread. That "natural gauge" was gone. In fact, I was trying too hard. What was required to spin with that whorl was a gentle touch and finer drafting. Spinning a thread of 28 wraps per inch instead of 17 wraps per inch, that spindle would hum. I could efficiently make thread all day long. And it was a thread perfectly suited to making cloth. What could be more natural?

So, don't get stuck in a rut - play with your spindles and see what they are capable of. Push your spindle to its limits. For me, that play time opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

Modern drop spinners

I received my copy of the September-October 2012 Natural History Magazine yesterday (their publishing is behind schedule). Usually I read these quickly and toss them. But this issue includes an article about spinners and weavers in South America. The article is called "The Murua Code," by Lynn A. Meisch. It is a fascinating article about saving ancient textiles and tracking down modern textile craftspeople who are still creating the same motifs in the same way, 4000 years later. The article gives a clear explanation of drop spinning, as well as the Andean style of warp-faced weaving. I highly recommend finding a copy of this issue if you have any interest in the uninterrupted history of creating textiles by hand.

What is it?

In 1868 the burial of a wealthy man was uncovered in Mammen Parish, Denmark. The artifacts were disturbed from their resting place, which has made study of the exquisite textiles very difficult. Was the fabric from a cloak or a tunic? What was the purpose of the silk strips? And what about those curious triangular pieces? Were they found at the head, the neck, the waist? On top of the body, or underneath? On an outer layer, or an inner layer? We will never know. JJA Worsaae, writing in 1869, suggested they might be from a silk belt. In 1950 Margrethe Hald considered that they may have been a style of filet. Gail Owen-Crocker and the Danish National Museum currently hypothesize that they were cloak ties. I do not claim to be more knowledgeable than these professionals; I am considerably less so. But there are holes in all of these theories that deserve further thought and research.

The idea that these were the remains of a belt or sash seems to have been discarded in the early 20th century  because the fabric was thought to be too delicate. But silk is very strong. If the artifacts are remnants from the ends of a sash, the design (decreasing rows of nalbinding) seems to indicate that the middle of the sash would have been only silk, and certainly strong enough to be tied. If it were ceremonial, rather than functional, little stress would have been put on the fabric.

Margrethe Hald agreed with Axel Orlik's idea that the pieces were similar to the design of filets, as seen in other textiles, sculpture and coins. She felt the indentations at the ends of each piece were the indications of remains of hooks which would fasten the ends together. The indentations could just as easily be indications of where fringe or tassels were attached. I have never seen a filet, particularly a cloth filet, designed to fasten in the front. If there had been metal fasteners, I would expect to see some remains of metal, or rust spots. If one takes into account the fact that at least some of the fabric has disintegrated, the piece likely would be too large for a head if the ends were joined in a circle. I agree with the modern thinking that this use is unlikely.

Gail Owen-Crocker compares the remnants to an illumination of Cnut, in the British Museum, and to William on his horse in the Bayeux Tapestry. In the illumination (BM MS Stowe 944 fol. 6) Cnut is shown with a cloak draped over his shoulder with long strips fluttering from what appears to be a piece of jewelry. The strips end in decorative trapezoids. His wife appears to wear a stole that ends with the same trapezoids. In the Bayeux Tapestry, William is shown riding his horse, wearing a cloak with "ties" ending in similar decorative trapezoids. But the pin fastening the cloak is shown at the same time. Later in the Tapestry, William is shown in chain mail. He wears no cloak, but similar tabs are shown by his neck. Are these the same as shown when he is on his horse? If so, they cannot be cloak ties. I look to the part of the Tapestry where Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury, stands beside Harold, holding a maniple. To me, the design of that maniple looks much more similar to the Mammen artifacts, although the artifacts are narrower.

Where does this leave me? As confused and curious as ever.

tis the season

When it gets to this time of year my thoughts turn to creating Christmas gifts. In past years I have used nalbinding to make gifts with my handspun yarn for friends and relatives - hats, socks, mittens... I decided to use this season as my "excuse" to learn new knitting techniques. I've learned cables and lace knitting (not period, but fun), as well as fair isle and brocade knitting. While I know I will never really knit like a medieval woman (the tiny needles cramp my hands), I enjoy the techniques just the same.

cable and lace scarves - the purple yarn is handspun BFL

fair isle neck warmer using handspun merino (blue) and shetland (white)

brocade knitting - the designs may be period, but my scale is much larger

Coronation

The coronation ceremony of Edward and Thyra was beautiful. Everyone worked very hard to make it as authentic as possible. Of course, I managed to forget to bring my camera. I presented the mittens to the Queen, and I am happy to say, they did fit :)

Fit for a queen

At least I hope so. (Her hands are small.)

Here is a picture of mittens I made for the upcoming queen. Her persona is from 12th century Denmark, so I based the  design on a medieval mitten found in Ribe. I used the Mammen stitch. The gauge of the stitches is closer to the actual artifact than my first attempt to reproduce it. The pattern isn't quire right yet, but I'm getting closer. The wool was spun on one of my 8th century reproduction spindles. The embroidery is based on a Viking design found on the Danish island of Soro.

Haste makes waste...

...or measure twice, cut once.

My barony is hosting Coronation in October, so after finishing my first pair of socks, I decided to make a new dress. I had some beautiful wool twill fabric of a color which can be made by natural dyes. I based the design of the dress on one I had made previously which fits me very well. That dress has rectangular sleeves, gathered at the wrist. I wanted the new dress to have tapered sleeves. My first problem was that I cut all four gores the same length, forgetting that the side gores are longer. So, I re-cut. That meant I had to cut one sleeve with the grain and one across the grain, in order to fit the pieces on the fabric. Well, not the end of the world, and I'm sure it has happened to someone before. Then, when I assembled the dress, I discovered that the sleeves were too tight. I had forgotten that tapering changes the dimensions at the upper arm as well as at the wrist. I had to take the sleeve apart and add larger gussets. If I had only checked my measurements first!

I decided that since I was using wool fabric I would spin my own sewing thread. I love sewing with my own thread, but there are a few tricks to it.

• Because dress fabric is usually densely woven, it is important to spin and ply with a high twist so that the thread will withstand being repeatedly pulled through the fabric. Period sewing thread is approximately 1 millimeter in diameter, plied. To make thread this size means spinning the thread tightly at 72 wraps per inch (28-30 wraps per centimeter). This is much finer than crewel thread. 
• Discard any pieces of thread that have pills or flaws. This thread is quickly damaged by sewing; it is a waste of time to try to use it.
• Keep your pieces of thread 12-15 inches long for best results. Too long, and they will break from abrasion.

Hunter's Moon

This weekend was the Feast of the Hunter's Moon, put on by our neighbors to the east, the Shire of Anglespur. It is one of my favorite events - a very relaxing way to end the summer. On Saturday I taught a spinning class - Spinning with Period Drop Spindles. I really wanted to give people who spin only with modern spindles a chance to touch and try and experience the difference between modern and ancient spinning.

We talked about period sheep breeds, combing vs. carding, using a distaff, and spinning for the intended use. We spun with both the antique spindle whorls and the reproductions. The class was small but enthusiastic, and I think we had a good time.

On Sunday I made glass beads. My first beads were made on the torch. I'm pretty happy with the outcome.

Then came the best part. Irene von Lassen had one of her Viking bead kilns there. She based it on the finds at Ribe. She taught me how to make beads in the kiln. It's completely different than making beads on the torch! It took a while to get the hang of it. The fire is made with charcoal, and is hotter than the torch flame. You begin by heating both the mandrel and a piece of glass in the fire. The glass sits on a little piece of clay so that it doesn't fall into the fire. But sometimes it does fall into the fire.

When the mandrel and glass are hot enough (the only way to know is practice), you touch the mandrel to the glass and it sticks. If the glass has become too hot, it sticks to the clay more than it sticks to the mandrel, and it is difficult to pick up. Once you have the glass on the mandrel, you hold it in the hottest part of the fire until the glass slumps all the way around. At that point you turn the mandrel until the bead becomes round.

It sounds simple, but it's not.

Here are the beads I made:

My first bead is the green one on the upper left. The mandrel was not centered on the glass when I picked it up, so there was much more glass on one side than the other. No matter how long I worked it, it was never going to get round. The broken blue bead was my second attempt. It, too, was misshapen. We suspect that it broke because of uneven heating in the kiln, or uneven cooling. Bead 3 is the transparent green bead on the left side of the picture. I was beginning to get the hang of it. Bead 4 turned out very round, but has bits of clay and charcoal stuck to it. The two beads on the right side of the picture are my "perfect" beads. They turned out round and I was steady enough with the long mandrel that I didn't get any unwanted bits stuck in the glass. I also found that I did better by starting with a smaller piece of glass. I am really looking forward to the next time Irene fires up her kiln!

Learning to weave

As I have said before, I want to learn to weave so that I can better understand how the spun thread is related to the woven cloth. With that in mind, back in March I purchased a rigid heddle loom. How hard can weaving be, I thought. After all, didn't we all learn to make potholders as kids? Well, didn't I have a lot to learn! I was so excited when my loom arrived, I grabbed what thread I could find - Gotland that I had previously spun to play with the breed - and warped up the loom. My weft is merino. For the first 9 inches, everything went fine. I was very proud of myself. Even my selvedges were even.

That's when everything went to hell in a handbasket, as my grandmother used to say. The warp threads began to break, and I had no idea how to fix them. The book that came with the loom didn't address that problem (or any problem). I hadn't thought about leaving myself extra thread for repairs, so the first thing I had to do was spin more thread. I tried tying in a new piece, but the knots wouldn't go through the heddle. When I was finally able to talk to Siobhan, the finest weaver I know, she told me how to fix the threads. Weave them in at the fabric side and bring the thread through the heddle to the back. Worked like a charm. But, by the time I knew the correct fix, I had already tried my own fix, which resulted in horrible weaving. It is full of mistakes and uneven tension. I was ready to throw the piece away. But I didn't.

Today I finished the piece. It is 5.25 x 21 inches. I had started out hoping to make a scarf. After all, I had been doing Navajo weaving off and on for 35 years, which is more difficult than weaving a simple tabby fabric. I expected a respectable result. This piece will be put away as a "lessons learned."

What I learned:

• Having a tightly spun warp thread is extremely important. The thread I had spun was not made for that specific purpose, and the friction of the heddle abraded the threads quickly.
• Gotland is a very slippery wool. It behaves very differently than Shetland or Merino, for example, making the tightly spun thread even more important. The tension of the warp caused the fibers to slip apart (even though they had been set), stretching the threads, which in turn impacted the overall tension of the piece.
• Because the threads did not stretch uniformly, it resulted in some areas with loose tension while others had tight tension. This made it difficult to pack the weft.
• As the tension at the edges became loose, it made it difficult to keep an even selvedge

For my next piece I will spin a thread specifically for the purpose. I may also try weaving without using the heddle bar to pack the weft. That should result in less abrasion. What was the other thing my grandmother used to say - if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

My first sock

I did it! I knit my first sock. This may not seem like much, but it was a new experience for me. While I figured out how to make cables on my own, I never would have figured out how to turn the heel and complete the sock without the help of my wonderful friends. The directions were so confusing! I guess I am more of a hands-on learner, which is also my favorite way to teach. I cast on the second sock immediately so that I am sure to wind up with something more useful than a "sack" to hang by the mantle at Christmas.

Spinning silk

I have silk fiber (filament?) in two forms - hankies and "roving." The interesting thing about the hankies - when you peel them apart, each one is one cocoon - one very long fiber. The only reason to spin it is to get a thread that is thicker than a single silk fiber. My attempt to spin from a hankie was less than successful. I pulled the fibers apart and wrapped them around a paper tube to keep them from tangling. Then I spun the thread from the tube. My hands tend to be rough (even with lots of hand cream) and my fingers catch on the fibers. The result was a very inconsistent thread. It looks better after I plied it. I'm really going to have to keep practicing this.

I then spun from prepared silk roving. This was much easier, and I am pleased with the results. I plied the first spindle-ful and kept the second as a single. Perhaps I will attempt to weave something.

single, 2-ply, and 2-ply from a hankie

Although the silk roving is slippery, it isn't really much more difficult than spinning wool. However, this isn't a method that would have been used during the medieval age. Spinning from a hankie, once I have more practice, will result in a fine, smooth thread, suitable for tablet weaving, embroidery or loom weaving. Since the roving is made of relatively short pieces of fiber, it results in a "halo" of fiber ends because the silk has no crimp. 

So many breeds, so little time

For the past 3 years I have been spinning every animal fiber I could get my hands on. I am always on the lookout for a new breed to try. I haven't found one yet that I didn't like - even Herdwick, which is rather like spinning steel wool. Some of my favorite wools to spin are Shetland (a double coated fleece with a fairly long staple, and enough crimp to make it easy to spin - it makes a strong thread); Jacob (not as soft as Shetland, but it has a nice feel); Blue Faced Leicester (fine, easy to spin, and a nice luster); and Wensleydale (a modern sheep, it's not particularly soft, but its fleece has a very long staple and a beautiful shine; there is a crispness to fabric made from this wool). And then of course there are the luxuries - cashmere, yak and camel down - who could resist! (These are all short staples.)

Mistress Thora gave me horsetail to play with. It is not the same as horse hair, and I can't spin it. It is too "plastic-y." I tried to make whipcord with it, but it was too brittle. The best I could do so far was a simple braid.

I'm currently spinning camel hair. This is not the same as camel down. The fibers are long and course. I imagine it would make good tent fabric.

I think it is time for me to branch out and learn to spin silk and flax.

A sampler of breeds I've spun.

The Mammen remnants

I am currently working on a project to reproduce the curious remnants found at Mammen parish, Denmark. For well over 100 years people have been speculating about what they could have been. I'm not completely comfortable with any of the ideas I've read, and I'm hoping that reproducing them will give me some clues to their original purpose.

I need to learn 2 skills to be able to duplicate these beautiful remnants. The center section of each piece is nalbound of silver and gold thread. This is the artifact that gave the Mammen stitch its name. The stitches are tiny. They cannot be made over the thumb as is the usual practice with nalbinding. I have been practicing with various threads and have found a gauge that I think will work.

What difference does it make?

I finished carving my spindle shaft to match the dimensions of the shaft found in Ribe, and I have been testing it against the shaft I carved to be similar to the shafts found in Greenland. Serendipitously, the Ribe shaft weighs the same as the Greenland shaft, and is the same length. Since I am using the same whorl on each shaft, the only difference between the two spindles is the distribution of mass along the shaft.

The Greenland style shaft is on the top, the Ribe style shaft on the bottom. The total weight of each spindle is 29 grams.

I spun with each spindle, first using Shetland wool, and again using Finn wool. I set the wool and let it dry without stretching it. When I spun, I did not add additional twist to the spindle until it had stopped spinning. Here are my results:

Greenland shaft/Shetland wool: 14 wraps per cm/63 degree angle of twist

Ribe shaft/Shetland wool: 14 wpc/66 degree angle of twist

Greenland shaft/Finn wool: 13 wpc/59 degree angle of twist

Ribe shaft/Finn wool: 12 wpc/61 degree angle of twist  

I am not completely confident in my angle measurements of the Finn thread. While I can see the twist in the white wool, it is difficult to measure it accurately. The Shetland wool has variation in the color of the fibers, making it much easier to measure.

As part of my spinning study in 2011 I tested the Greenland style shaft against an equally long straight shaft. Then I found that the Greenland shaft produced an angle of twist of 62 degrees, and the straight shaft produced an angle of twist of 53 degrees, both using Shetland wool.

So, was the shape of the spindle just a matter of personal preference, or did experience show people that a different shape could have a positive impact on the final product? Clearly this is not enough spinning to make an educated guess, but it does make me wonder.

Nalbinding

Here are pictures of a few of my nalbinding projects.

My first project: a pouch made with the Oslo stitch

The Russian stitch; hand spun Romney

The Oslo stitch, sightly felted

The Oslo stitch; hand spun Shetland

The Mammen stitch; hand spun Shetland; embroidery thread  hand spun Merino

The Broden stitch; hand spun Merino

The Mammen stitch with F1 connection; hand spun BFL

The Mammen stitch; hand spun Merino

The Coptic stitch; hand spun Romney; stitched in the style of the socks in the Petrie Museum

From fleece to yarn

Back in October I went to my local sheep & wool festival. My goal was to purchase a Lazy Kate for spindles, which I did, but I also bought a BFL lamb fleece. I had been resisting the suggestion to buy a fleece, because I was intimidated by how big a whole fleece is, and how dirty. But here was the fleece of a little white lamb - not too big and not too dirty. I decided to take the plunge. If ever I was going to do this, this was the fleece for me. So I brought it home, along with an alpaca fleece whose color I couldn't resist (yes, it is big), and life got in the way. The fleeces ended up spending the winter in my attic.

This weekend the time finally came to process the fleece. I washed the wool in my kitchen sink - first soaking it in warm water with a little Dawn dish liquid (no more than I use to wash my dishes). I put the locks in a mesh laundry bag so that they would stay organized, and gently raised and lowered them in the water a few times to get the soap through the locks. I was amazed at how much dirt came out in the first washing. After that, I just rinsed the locks in plain warm water until the water ran clear. It took 3 rinses. I dumped the dirty water outside because I didn't know how my old pipes would like the lanolin. I did the same with the alpaca, although that was faster - no lanolin, just dust.

Preparing to wash the BFL locks

Dirty wash water on the right, rinsing the locks on the left.

I stretched the laundry bags over the top of the dishpans to dry. By Sunday afternoon the wool was dry and I was anxious to comb. My Viking combs were the perfect tool for the BFL wool.

Isn't the crimp beautiful?

I hadn't realized how many short cuts the fleece had. By processing myself, they were easy to remove.

The alpaca really needed finer combs, but I made do with what I had. Alpaca gets full of static from combing. I ended up dampening my hands to control the fiber while I pulled it into roving.

And of course I had to spin some - just a partial spindle of each. They were wonderful to work with. I just might get addicted to processing my own fleece!

Spinning outdoors can be a challenge without a distaff - the breeze kept trying to tangle the wool in the spindle.

- what I learned -

It isn't as difficult as I had imagined to wash a fleece. Actually, it isn't difficult at all. If you have been thinking about trying it - go for it!

By processing the fleece myself, I got to control the amount of lanolin removed from the wool. I didn't wash it so much that all the lanolin was stripped out. That made spinning very enjoyable for my hands. I highly recommend it over commercially scoured wool.

I will admit that I didn't wash the entire fleece on one day. But I realized that I didn't have to. I've washed enough to keep me combing and spinning for a while, and when I next have time between housework and yard work, I'll wash some more.

A nice surprise

My issue of Piecework Magazine came today. They published my letter about making Coptic stitch socks - with the photo :)

Ribe Spindle

Today I pruned the maple trees in my back yard. After 2 years of searching, I finally have a stick of the proper straightness, length and diameter to carve a spindle shaft to match the one found in Ribe. Hurray! Soon I'll be able to test the Ribe shaft model (gently tapered to each end) against the Greenland shaft model (a pronounced bulge in the center).

King's and Queen's A&S - Part 3

My third project for King's and Queen's A&S was an extension of my spinning study. After spinning large quantities of thread at many gauges, I had formed some ideas about what whorls might be appropriate for thread for particular textile artifacts. It was time to test the ideas. Two facts made the project difficult for me. First, I am not a weaver. I had no preconceived notions about how thread would react when woven (which perhaps was a good thing). Second, since I did not have access to the actual artifacts, I had to rely on photos and descriptions by other researchers (mostly Margrethe Hald).

My first attempt was a remnant from Ribe, woven at 10/12 threads per centimeter.  Warp threads are Z-spun; weft threads are S-spun. I spun Jacob roving using a 19 gram whorl similar to the whorls found in Ribe. I spun S and Z thread at 14 wraps per centimeter, then wove it on a small rigid heddle loom.

My version is 10/9 threads per centimeter. Fulling would draw the threads closer together. 

I then tackled the cushion cover from the Mammen find. This is also tabby woven, at a similar density to the Ribe artifact. Both warp and weft are Z-spun, and the thread count is 11/7.8 tpc. This time I spun Fin wool, and I was able to achieve a thread count of 11/8.

I felt I was ready to try a more complex weave. This was where trouble began. It was uncharted territory for me. I wanted to weave a piece similar to the Mammen "cloak" fabric. This is a very fine fabric, woven in a 3-shaft twill. Using a 6 gram spindle, I spun at 30 wraps per centimeter. I made several attempts, but was never able to weave such fine cloth.

I did not want to end on an unsuccessful note, so I attempted to reproduce a 2/2 twill cloth found at Jelling. This has a thread count of 9.5/5.5 tpc. My first attempts were much too bulky. I was surprised to discover that my best result came using the same 14wpc thread that I began the weaving study with.

I don't enjoy weaving as much as I enjoy spinning, but I really want to understand how the weave structure is related to the spun thread. Clearly I have a lot more experimenting to do!

King's and Queen's A&S - Part 2

My goal for my nalbinding project was to show the long history of this textile technique. I stitched 3 accessories - socks, based on circa 300 CE socks from Egypt; a mitten based on one found in the medieval layers at Ribe, Denmark; and a hat based on one found when the wall surrounding Copenhagen was demolished.

To make the socks I examined photos of the original (taken by Lady Susanna Lockhart) to determine the pattern. These are constructed using the Coptic stitch. I spun a fine single, and used a long copper needle to make the stitches. They do not exactly match the originals because they were made to fit Mistress Brid.

According to the staff at the Sydvestjyske Museum, no research has yet been done on their mitten. I began by studying high-resolution photos. By examining the deteriorated edges I was able to determine that a 2-ply yarn was used. Without being able to touch the actual mitten, I compared the look of the fabric - the height of the ridges, angle of thread - to hypothesize on the stitch used. It most closely matches mittens I have previously made using the Mammen stitch.

I spun a medium weight 2-ply yarn for the mitten, using one of my reproductions of Ribe whorls. The pattern of the mitten is more fitted than many mittens that have been found. I consider my version a draft.

I am currently combing and spinning Jacob wool to make a measured copy of the artifact.

My third piece is based on a dapper little hat. It was impossible for me to determine the stitch used in the artifact, but the hat was clearly made with a bulky yarn. I chose to construct the hat using the Oslo stitch. Using a 38 gram whorl, I pushed the spindle to its limit, creating a plied yarn of 5 wpi. The yarn for the original was probably made using a wheel. I believe the original hat was constructed from the brim to the crown, based on the way the edge lies, however, I stitched my version beginning at the crown. It can be difficult (at least for me) to make a hat fit properly when starting at the brim, because nalbinding tends to tighten up after the first row. By starting at the crown I was assured of a good fit. Since I want to wear this hat when I walk to work on cold days, my version of the hat is deeper than the original - so that it will cover my ears. I can tell you - it is very warm!