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!