shades of white

Back in September I did a little bit of dying. The indigo dying worked quite well. The lily of the valley dying, not quite so much. There is very little difference between the natural wool and the dyed wool. I wanted to see if the difference would be more noticeable if the threads were woven into fabric. Here is my finished sample:

The warp starts with 4 doubled strands of natural Shetland wool, then Finn dyed with lily of the valley leaves. There are 4 natural Finn threads on each side of the indigo threads. The remainder is dyed Finn and natural Shetland. Beginning at the bottom of the photo, the weft is natural Finn, up to the pointer. It then switches to dyed Finn for the center of the weaving, and back to natural at the upper end.

I had hoped that where the threads were natural white in both directions the fabric would be brighter than where it was mixed dyed and natural, and where it is all dyed, that it would look creamier. In fact, that is the case. It is difficult to see, however, because the white stripe is only 4 threads wide. I should have used at least 8 threads for each stripe. The difference between mixed and all dyed is very subtle and difficult to notice except in bright sunlight.

I still have some dyed thread left. I think I will make another sample with wide white and cream checks. Maybe then there will be a noticeable difference.

experimenting

If you read my blog, you know that I am big on experimenting. I'm reading a book - "Cosmic Numbers" by James D. Stern, and in it he defines a few terms that I find relevant:

Quoting from page 30:
Experiment: The act of conducting a controlled test or investigation.
Experimentation: Varying one parameter and seeing how other parameters change in response.
When you track the apparatus used, the procedures involved and the measurements observed, that's "experimental science."

In his book, Mr. Stern is talking about things like discovering the gravitational constant, but it is exactly the approach I use when trying to learn new things about spinning. Science doesn't have to happen in a laboratory. In fact, for much of history it didn't. It happened in basements and back halls and gentlemen's clubs. It is that history of "gentlemen scientists" (I guess there wasn't much of an outlet for gentlewomen scientists, but I bet they were out there - or too busy running the household to have time for "play") that I find exciting. The idea that science is accessible to everyone. If you are curious about something, just figure out the questions to ask and dive in. It's fun.

In that vein, I've been working on my Ribe mitten recreation. Each test I make, I discover a little bit more about how the original mitten could have been made. I believe the key to its construction lies in the thumb. To that end, I am making a few thumb samples to see which stitching sequence will most closely match the original mitten. I'll post them when I am done.

timed test mitten

I've finished my test mitten. Here is my tally:

It took 3 hours and 25 minutes to stitch from the beginning to the start of the thumb hole. It took another 4 hours and 10 minutes to reach the point where the decreasing rows began. It took 1 hour and 15 minutes to stitch the 6 decreasing rows, and 45 minutes to stitch the thumb. That is a total of 9 hours and 35 minutes for one mitten. Each time I sat down to work, I stitched for at least 20 minutes without interruption, up to 2 hours for my longest stretch.

As I suspected would happen, the finished mitten is smaller than the Ribe mitten. It measures 12.5 cm x 22.5 cm, compared to 14 cm x 26.5 cm. But the shape and proportion seems right. And I think the time is comparable to what it would take to make the original mitten, since the yarn is slightly thicker and the stitches slightly larger. People who look at my test mittens find it unusual that the cuff is so short, but that is how the real mitten is.

So, what is the total effort to make a pair of mittens? 15 hours to get ready, 19 hours and 10 minutes to stitch a pair = 34 hours and 10 minutes. Yes, I would be distressed to lose one.

Goals for 2014

My first goal for 2014 is to complete the reproduction of the Ribe nalbinding mitten. I have been working on this project off and on for more than a year and a half. Part of the delay was because other priorities got in the way. More importantly, I found there was more to discover about a "simple" mitten than I had anticipated. This is the year than I will bring this project to completion.

I spent a great deal of time in 2013 doing research and writing. That isn't a bad thing, but it meant that I had less time for spinning. I feel a void, and I will not neglect my spinning in 2014.

Third, I will weave something with the flax I have spun. I will keep it small (a napkin?) so that I don't get discouraged. If I can motivate myself, I will finish the big cotton piece that is on my larger loom (and has been there, neglected, since spring).

Fourth, I will practice tablet weaving. This was a 2013 goal that I never found time for, beyond taking a class at Pennsic.

Finally, I will knit a pair of socks using my great-grandmother's pattern. I have already counted out the stitches and worked out the pattern, so this should be an easy goal to accomplish.

2013 in review

This year has gone by so fast, and once again it is time to look back on what I've accomplished for the year.  What have I done? What have I learned?

Shortly after making my goal list I was surprised by being chosen as the Queen’s A&S Champion, for my research into how spin direction affects the look of the woven fabric.

While my goal had been to do my best work, actually being chosen changed my priorities a bit. I am truly enjoying this honor. I get excited by the intersection of arts and sciences, and my time as champion has allowed me the opportunity to encourage others to look at their work in a new way. I've attended a wider range of events, I've gotten to know many more people, and I've been able to spread my enthusiasm farther than I could on just the Baronial level. Shortly after I was chosen, Kiena requested that I make a gift for the King and Queen of the Mid. That slowed my progress on the goals I had set for the year, but I used it as an opportunity to learn a new embroidery technique.

In May I was off to Kalamazoo to present my research on 8^th century Danish spindle whorls. What an amazing opportunity that was! My paper was well received, but more importantly, it gave me access to many other researchers, not only in textiles, but every other field of medieval study. After the conference I was asked to submit my work for consideration for publication. I've yet to see what comes of that, but after several months of polishing my text, it is off my desk and there is nothing else to do while I wait for feedback.

I also spent time this spring and summer analyzing Egyptian textiles dated to approximately 1000 BC. They are currently on exhibit at the Albany Institute of History and Art. This is something I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to do, and it was especially exciting when we discovered a garment that no one knew the museum had. It was a thrill to examine how the flax was spun, how the cloth was woven and how a garment was constructed. Egyptologists will have new material to study here, and I am glad I was able to be a small part of the research. Some of the research will be printed in the exhibit catalogue in 2014.

At Pennsic I broadened my understanding of textile archaeology, and tried my hand at weaving medieval-style patterns. I still have a mental block about warping the loom, and I don’t get as much pleasure from throwing the shuttle as dropping the spindle. I doubt I’ll ever consider myself a weaver, but my fascination with cloth keeps me coming back. (It is fun to watch the pattern emerge from the threads.) Between weaving sessions, I presented my spindle research to a tent full of interested spinners, which was so inspiring. The art of teaching really is the best way to learn your subject. Students have the most insightful questions, which fuels my desire to know more.

This summer I tackled my goal of learning to spin flax. I still have a lot to learn, but I did have success. One thing I learned is that I prefer spinning animal fibers. They feel so much nicer in the hand. Between spinning flax and spinning quivet, I'm beginning to get the feel for spinning while holding onto the spindle. I'm not that fast yet, but I'm getting better.

I also improved my knitting skills (although this was not one of my planned goals). I learned to knit gloves, expanded my sock knitting, and trained my hands to work with tiny needles. I've learned to “read” my knitting, and I can correct my mistakes, even when I find them several rows later. I did not quite finish my Christmas knitting - my poor husband got 3 socks. I guess that makes my first goal for 2014 to finish that last pair! At least it is already on the needles.

I attempted to work on my goal of recreating the Mammen nalbinding artifact. What I've learned is that this project is going to have to wait a few years until I retire. The stitches are so tiny that it takes a great deal of concentration to make evenly sized stitches. I also find it difficult to pick up the work mid-row (thank goodness for magnifying glasses). This project will have to wait until I can devote several uninterrupted hours of work at a time. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to work on my tablet weaving skills.

I have made progress on recreating the Ribe nalbinding mitten. While work on it was slowed by unexpected projects and family emergencies, I am happy with how the work is going. The yarn is spun and the stitching is started. I completed one final test mitten to work out a few questions I still had. It is meticulous work to recreate an artifact, rather than just use it as inspiration, but I am enjoying the effort.

So once again I have meandered this year, but I have no regrets. I have accomplished some of my goals and I am well on my way with others. I will allow myself to drop one goal temporarily off the list, and I am ready to leap into the new year with new work.

If you are coming to East Kingdom 12^th Night, bring a small project to display, and be sure to say hello. I’d love to hear about what art or science excites you.

mitten update

I've started the "timed" version of the Ribe mitten. It took me 45 minutes to make the first 29 cm of stitches. After I joined it in a circle, it has taken me an hour to go around twice more. As usual, my stitches tighten up after the first row, so it is slightly less than the 14.5 cm diameter of the original. I will match the number of rows to the original, but I expect my finished mitten will be a little smaller. Now that my gauge is set, the stitches come faster. I'll post a picture when I am a little farther along.

a gift of love

When I was a child, my great grandmother taught me to knit. I hardly remember a time when she didn't have knitting needles in her hands (maybe at her 90th birthday party, but I'm not sure). I only remember her knitting one thing - socks. She knit hunting socks for the men and ski socks for the women, who were also lucky enough to get "all purpose" socks as well. My great grandmother died in the mid-1960's, and on Thanksgiving, as I sat knitting socks, my Mom reminisced about Grandma's socks. And then she went to her drawer and brought me a pair:

 These are the finest hand knit socks I have ever seen. The needles can't have been larger than size 0, maybe size 00. I love the pattern, with alternating plain and cabled ribs. But perhaps what makes these socks especially extraordinary - my great grandmother was blind when she made them. You can tell they were made by a human, not a machine - she missed the cable twist in one spot. I look forward to the day when these socks are mine. And I hope one day my knitting skill will rival hers.

Thank you, Grandma, for your gift of love.