We here at BeWeave It love stories about ancient textiles. It’s always so interesting as weavers to learn how cloth was made through the years. More often than not, we tend to find out that our ancestors were far more complex and clever than we’d been giving them credit for. Now, three years ago the oldest cloth ever found in Norway was discovered on a glacier that had melted enough to reveal what had been hidden by ice for centuries. (We wrote about it in this BeWeave It from 2013.) In that amount of time textile historians and scientists have been able to learn quite a bit about the cloth and how it was made. 

Part of the way we learn about ancient textiles such as this tunic is by recreating it. Skilled textile historians at the Museum of Cultural History at the University of Oslo and the Norwegian Mountain Museum are making two such reconstructions so they can first of all learn about the cloth and also so they can safely display the reproduction to the public while the original stays safe.

So, what about the tunic? A surprise was that it was made from soft, fine underhair rather than the more utilitarian outer layer of a sheep’s wool. To recreate the yarn used in the tunic, wool from Norwegian wild sheep will be harvested, the overhair must then be removed, and then a portion will be spun on a hand spindle. Due to the amount of time and effort it would take to hand spin all the yarn for the tunic, it would be very expensive so it will be partially mechanically spun as well.

In the original tunic two colors were woven in diamond twill (a favorite of weavers still today) so two shades of natural wool will be used to emulate this pattern. How did the weavers get the diamond twill pattern? They used warp-weighted looms like the ones we wrote about here.

As of today the holiday season is officially over for me and I’m finally back in the office (even if the office is just down the hall from the kitchen where I spent much of the holiday season). The guests have all safely arrived back home and the rigid-heddle loom was not only a hit with the seven-year-old, but her nineteen-year-old sister also asked very nicely if she could have a go at weaving a scarf and was just as entranced with the process.

Watching those two weave on a loom for the first time was a wonderful experience. It made me remember the moment I first realized that I was actually creating cloth. I had knit before I had woven, so I was not completely new to textiles, but the thrill was like no other. I could see that same pure joy on their faces as they began watching their cloth take shape and when each scarf came off the loom, there was the pride of knowing, “I made this!” It was a wonderful thing to witness.

It’s not only the act of weaving that can bring such joy, but also the gift of a handwoven item. While I have heard many a horror story of people giving gifts of carefully handmade items (whether woven, crocheted, knit, or other) that were tossed aside as cheap and meaningless by the recipient, I have been lucky enough that the recipients of my handwovens have always been grateful. None, though, were so grateful as my grandfather this year.

A recent widower, my grandfather is getting used to living alone. I knew he would often get so cold during the Kansas winter so I decided to weave him a scarf. Normally I would use my favorite alpaca, but for a man not accustomed to washing wool I decided instead to use a superwash blend of deliciously soft merino and easy to care for acrylic. My grandfather is of good, solid German stock and shuns ostentatious patterns and color combinations, so I chose a simple (but classic) herringbone pattern in navy blue and a silvery gray.

The knitting yarn was a bit springy, which made both winding and warping a bit of a challenge (lesson learned on that front) but it wove up quickly and beautifully and when I threw it into the washer on high after wet-finishing, there was not a bit of felting to be seen—perfect. The scarf arrived on Christmas Eve and while I was not there to see him open it, I did get plenty of thanks. He said he not only wore it all day Christmas Eve, but also to bed at night to keep him extra warm and every day after that.

As much as I enjoy giving out fancy scarves and elegant tea towels, I sometimes forget that the simplest gifts can be the best, especially when they are full of love. I’m glad that the scarf makes my grandfather happy, if even for a few moments. I hope it keeps him warm when the wind blows and the snow snows. As the weather warms I will weave for him some towels to use around the house out of soft, sensible cotton to clean up his messes and brighten his kitchen.

I hope that what I give him brings him happiness and comfort and, if I’m honest, something he can brag about at the senior center. Most of all I hope when he wears his scarf or uses his towels he thinks of me: his eldest grandchild so far from Kansas, but still so very close.

Happy Weaving,

As I had mentioned previously, as a way to keep my niece occupied and entertained during the holidays I warped up my little rigid-heddle loom in pretty, variegated alpaca and let her go wild. After the first four inches she did try to convince me that she had woven enough for a scarf, but she soon became entranced and wove for hours on end.

While she wove, I had a conversation with several of my in-laws who wanted to know where I had gotten such a fine child’s loom. I can understand why they may have thought the loom was for children: my rigid-heddle loom is 10” wide, it is simple to set up, simple to use, and requires no fancy equipment (a fact emphasized by the fact I still have not found any of my stick shuttles after the move to New Mexico and had to fashion several out of cardboard).

I smiled and explained that while the rigid-heddle loom is wonderfully easy to use, it was most certainly not a toy. I showed them photos from various books in my weaving library, including Liz Gipson’s Weaving Made Easy, and explained a little about pick-up sticks, hand-controlled weaves, and color-and-weave patterns. Each one left the conversation genuinely impressed by just how versatile something so small and simple could really be.

Designer Susan Horton used a striped warp and clever pick-up to create these bright napkins on the rigid-heddle loom

This is, of course, the beauty of the rigid-heddle loom. The cloth woven on it can be as simple or complex as you, the weaver, want to make it. I love weaving on the rigid-heddle loom for the same reason I love making bread: they both encourage you to use your hands to create. With bread, even if I use my mixer to knead I still have to stretch, fold, and shape the dough. I have to feel it to know that it is ready to rise and later, ready to bake. With the rigid-heddle loom, I use my hands to gently manipulate the threads to create lace or textured weaves with loops and knots. I can get lost in the yarn and really get to know my piece from the inside out as I handle every thread over and over. It is absolutely meditative and blissful.

Truthfully I do not use my rigid-heddle loom as much as I would like, but after being reminded in a rather roundabout way exactly how wonderful these looms really are as I explained this fact to others, I have a hankering to warp it up for myself and get lost in some lace or maybe a rya. We’ve published a few towel and napkin projects for the rigid-heddle loom that require simple pick-up and 8/2 cotton (of which I have an abundance), so perhaps that will be my next weaving adventure.

Happy Weaving!

It's official, our annual Handwoven reader weaving challenge will be open and accepting entries on January 16. While you may have to wait until next week until you can start submitting your entries, you can get a head start by checking out this year's rules, download a copy of the Project at a Glance form to fill out while you weave, and view the contest palette, all at the contest page on Weaving Today.

This year's theme is Handwoven for the Home: Everyday Heirlooms. We're looking for any sort of weaving you'd be proud to pass down to future generations, from lacy napkins to bright kitchen towels to useful aprons. In honor of the contest, here's our favorite BeWeave It about household weaving throughout the past and one fiber we don't recommend weaving with: asbestos.

When weaving table linens for the holiday season and beyond, oftentimes linens and cottons are the first choice, but there was a time when the must-have fiber for these items was asbestos.

Asbestos is a natural occurring mineral that grow in thin, fibrous crystals. This means that unlike other minerals, asbestos can be spun and woven into a fine cloth.  

It all started in ancient Greece and later Rome, when napkins and other household items were woven from the mineral. Greeks were enamored with the substance, and appreciated how easy these cloths were to clean: simply throw them in the fire and food residue burns away while the cloth is not only unharmed, it often came out of the fire whiter than before it was originally soiled. In fact, its ability to withstand flames is how it got its name: the word asbestos comes from the Greek word for "unquenchable" or "inextinguishable."

Woven asbestos table toppings didn't stop with the ancient Romans. According to legend, the Emperor had a tablecloth woven from asbestos that he would use to convince others that he had magical powers. He would dramatically throw it into fire after a dinner and then remove the unharmed cloth, shocking onlookers who weren’t in on the secret. 

While it might be easy to clean, we now know that long-term exposure to asbestos can cause respiratory problems and even cancer. So we can be thankful for for our washing machines and glad that asbestos table cloths and napkins are no more. 

I still remember my first weaving lesson. I wanted to take a class at the local art museum and while at first I wished to take pottery, I had a conflict in my schedule and so I decided to go with my second choice of weaving. Two of my friends also signed up and together we went on the date of the first class where we picked out yarn, wound our warp, and listened to our fellow weavers (who were more experienced than we) use terms we did not understand but wanted to learn.

We warped our own huge jack looms which took at least one full class period and part of a Saturday during studio hours. I wove with coarse wool using a stick shuttle and some basic instruction on twill and how to change the pattern through treadling variations. I, like my two friends, quickly became entranced with the process. It was therapeutic to get lost in warp and weft and to see what designs I could create by treadling 1-3-2-4 instead of 1-2-3-4. We would happily spend hours each Saturday in the studio weaving away outside of class because we all genuinely enjoyed the process.

When the class ended I wanted to keep weaving but the idea of owning a loom felt an extravagant luxury and with a move to Colorado looming on the horizon, I figured I'd have to shelve my weaving for at least another decade. One year later I'd find myself working for Handwoven, six months on top of that I was happily weaving on a rigid-heddle loom, and almost two years later I found myself the proud owner of a used 8-shaft floor loom.

Through my work on Handwoven I have learned more about weaving than I ever dreamed existed as a nervous student. I have travelled the world and through time in its pages from Scandinavia to Japan to Africa and beyond. I've learned that there's more to weaving than just floor looms, and that such as card weaving and backstrap weaving require no loom at all, but can be used to create patterns that rival any floor loom.

I have also learned a great deal about the design process by reading what inspires other weavers and how they choose colors, structures, and so on. I've also learned to do color wraps to help pick yarn and even then to always put on enough warp to sample. While I find myself creating projects from the yarn on up more often than not, I still use Handwoven projects as inspiration from fun drafts to interesting color palettes and combinations of yarn.

Today as I look back on my journey through weaving I find it amazing how far I've come in just a few years and even more amazing at how much more there is left for me to learn and explore. I'm quite certain I could spend a lifetime studying weaving and not learn close to half of all there is to know-of course, that's half the fun. I'm so grateful for all those who have shared their knowledge and projects in the pages of Handwoven, and I can't wait to see what the future brings. Weaving is still very much an adventure.

If you want to share your weaving knowledge with either an article or project, make sure you check out Handwoven's newly updated editorial calendarfor issue themes and due dates.

Happy Weaving!

Weavers in Bangalore, India, aren't just making artistic products these days--they're weaving to save lives. A medical diagnostics company called Achira Labs has integrated weaving into the medical world by crafting diabetes test strips from silk using a simple wooden handloom. In contrast to paper or plastic, which have traditionally been used for test strips, silk strips are easier and more inexpensive to manufacture thanks to readily available resources in India, which has the second highest number of diabetes cases in the world. And they work the same way--to check blood sugar levels, a diabetic person simply pricks his or her fingertip, dabs some blood onto the test strip and then feeds it into a glucose reader.

An added bonus? It's not just diabetics who will benefit from this new innovation-weavers throughout India are finding that crafting silk strips is a great way to make a living. Achira aims to team up with women weavers in need of employment to open five weaving hubs in rural and suburban communities that are especially exposed to diabetes. Improving lives while stimulating the Indian economy seems to us like an awesome goal!

a. Weaving in the stick.

Hi Madelyn,
 
I recently saw your video, Weaving Well, where you show how to weave in a stick so you can cut a sample from the loom and then continue weaving without having to retie on to the front apron rod. But in my further reading and research, I found a similar method in which you weave in two sticks. Is one a better practice than the other? I am planning on using this idea on my next project.

Greg

Hi Greg!

b. Attaching the stick to the apron rod.

The process I call “weaving in a stick” requires only one stick. You weave about 2" of firm fabric after you have completed a project on the loom. Then you make a shed (plain weave or as close to it as you can get) and insert a stick of the same thickness as an apron rod. Then you weave an inch or so more of firm fabric (this and the weaving before the stick should also be as close to plain weave as you can get; I usually use a matte weft yarn). Next, you cut off the original project leaving the stick with its 2" of fabric before it and 1" of fabric beyond it and tie that stick to the real apron rod. Now begin weaving the next project. There wouldn’t be any reason for an additional stick.

The only situation I can think of where you would need to use two sticks is if you were planning to change the threading for the next project. In that case, with the original project still on the loom, first make a plain-weave shed (or as close to it as you can get) and insert one stick (of the size and type as a lease stick) into the shed behind the shafts. Then make the other plain-weave shed and insert the second lease stick into the new shed behind the shafts. Secure the lease sticks for threading with cords or other method and cut the woven project from the loom. Then remove the cut warp ends from the heddles and rethread the heddles as usual from the cross on the lease sticks. Photo c shows the lease sticks in place after the threading is completed. The one remaining task to do before you start weaving the next project  is to remove the lease sticks.  I showed this same photo in a previous Ask Madelyn and someone asked if I intended the lease sticks to remain in place during weaving. Never keep lease sticks behind the shafts when you are weaving. If you do, it effectively shortens your loom by the distance from the back beam to the closest lease stick to the shafts. This seriously affects the opening of the sheds.

	c. Lease sticks placed in threading (to be removed when threading is complete).

Madelyn

First of all, a big thank you to Diane Ferguson, who emailed this story idea to Madelyn van der Hoogt, who then sent it off to BeWeave It headquarters. Those of you who have been reading BeWeave It for the past few years know that textiles play an integral role in science past, present, and future. One exciting example of this is the textiles being produced by Bally Ribbon in Bally, Pennsylvania. The company began in 1923 weaving silk hatbands and has since expanded to weaving ribbons for military medals as well as textile for medical implants and space vessels.

Specifically, Bally helped develop the pads that will go between the Orion crew module and its service module. The pads will also serve as protection when the passenger capsule reenters the Earth’s atmosphere. These pads are not your typical textile; rather, they are three inches thick and woven out of quartz fiber. Not only that, but they are woven using a three-dimensional weaving technique to make them extra durable.

What makes this all so very special? Not only will the pads go into space, but they will also possibly make it to Mars, which is one of NASA's goals after the development of the new Space Launch System. Not bad for a small weaving mill in Pennsylvania!

Hi Madelyn,

I love warps with lots of colors and I am wondering what the best way is to wind a warp with lots of color changes.

Thank you for all your expertise,
                                                            
Judy
 
 
Hi Judy!
 
How to wind warps of multiple colors depends on whether you are warping front to back or back to front. If you warp back to front, you pretty much have to wind all of the colors on the warping board in the order in which they will be threaded. You’ll then spread the warp in the raddle and beam it through lease sticks that maintain the cross. You can vary the threading order a bit from the winding order if that helps make the winding order of the colors any easier. But for the most part, the warp must go on the beam so that the threads are in the position in which they’ll be threaded.
 
Winding the colors, however, can be done without cutting and tying at all color changes. I do as many as six colors without cutting and tying  (I’ve done even more but it can get awkward), leaving the cones on the floor at the side of the warping board when I’m not using them. That is, I will start a color and wind the number of ends required and then wrap the yarn around the start or end peg and wind the next color. I’ll repeat that process with a third color (wind the second around a start or end peg and start the third), and keep winding, with the cones sitting beside each other. (With more than six cones, the dangling threads from the board to each cone can interfere with each other.)
 
When it’s time to use a color again, I just pick it up and use it as if the rest weren’t there. When I’m finished with it, I wind it around a start or end peg again, and continue with whatever color is next. At the very end, when I cut the warp off of the warping board, the extra wraps around the start and end pegs fall to the floor. If you warp back to front using the usual method, however, you have to make sure that you only start and end the colors at the end peg, since all of the loops around the start peg (closest to the cross) must be actual loops so that the apron rod can be inserted in them for beaming. For front-to-back warping, you can start and end colors at both pegs (handy if your color stripe has an odd number of ends in it).
 
If you warp front to back, however, you can wind each color in a separate chain instead of winding the whole warp as one chain. You can then remove each chain from the warping board and sley that color individually  in the reed where it will go. If you have stripes that fill four dents followed by three more stripes that fill four dents each, for example, you sley the first four dents and then leave 12 dents empty and sley the next four, etc. This works really well if your denting order coincides with the number of threads in each stripe. If the sleying order is 3/dent and the color stripes are 4 threads each, figuring out where the colors go can be daunting. If it is really hard to figure out, I wind as described above.
 
Hope this helps!
 
Madelyn

 
PS: If you wind the warp using a paddle and the color order coincides with the number of threads in the paddle, you can wind all the colors together in their proper order. You do need a cone rack to hold the cones of each color. If you have to change the colors every often, though, the paddle is not such a time-saver.

When asked why we weave, most of us would probably remark upon the fun of creating cloth from tiny threads, the artistic possibilities, and being tied to generations of weavers throughout history. All of these reasons are in many ways a more complicated way of saying, “I weave because it makes me happy.”  While we attribute specific reasons to this happiness, science has found out that creating makes us inherently happy.

Just as with meditation, when you are at the loom (or painting or sculpting and so on and so forth) it is very hard to be anywhere except in the moment. Think about it: while warping you must pay attention to every thread and its placement, while weaving you must pay attention to each press of the treadle—nothing else seems to matter. Just as with meditation, weaving helps to reduce stress (most of the time). Weaving also releases dopamine, a chemical that makes us happy, and it also keeps the brain healthy in a way that can potentially help slow down and stave off dementia. Plus, when you’re done, you get a piece of cloth that you can use and love.

From iPhones to designer clothing, it’s neat to see how items that were once viewed as luxurious have made their way to the more middle-class population. That’s exactly what’s happened with aso oke, a hand-loomed cotton-woven fabric made from textiles indigenous to the Yoruba nation in Nigeria. The material is typically worn at special social gatherings such as weddings, funerals, and holidays. In an art exhibit titled “Aso Oke – The Woven Beauty,” artist Tunde Owolabi tells the 100-plus-year story of the timeless fabric through photos, paintings, videos, and other media. While fashion statements have evolved over time, aso oke has remained a prevalent fabric in Nigerian clothing. Even attempts to modernize the production process have been rejected--rather, the traditional weaving process has been preserved as an integral industry in a number of communities. Owolabi notes that the weaving process “is an art that leaves no gender out of the fun and experience.”

His art exhibit is currently on display at Red Door Gallery, Victoria Island, Lagos.

Ask Madelyn HAVE A QUESTION? OUR EDITOR HAS THE ANSWER madelynv@interweave.com

Hi Madelyn!

Before I go completely daffy, I need help with one of Marguerite Davison's drafts ("Sun, Moon and Stars," A Handweaver’s Pattern Book, Overshot Novelties, page 147). I think I understand that I have to reverse the tie up, ( 2&4; 1&3; 2&3; 3&4; 1&4; 1&2). Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm having trouble with the tabby concept. I've read the introduction that explains it, and I think I am supposed to weave 3 picks on the same pattern treadle. Do I weave tabby between each of those picks?

I may be making this more complicated then it is; but I have found no one who can explain it so it makes sense. I'm a very visual person so really need your help.

Adonna


Hi Adonna!

Congratulations! You have successfully gone through both of the Davison Initiation Rites. The first Rite is figuring out that her tie-ups are for a counterbalance loom and therefore indicate the shafts that go down. In order to follow her treadling as written on a jack loom, you must raise the shafts that are not marked in her tie-ups, so that her marked shafts remain down. You therefore tie up the blanks (to rise) instead of the marked shafts.

The second Rite is to notice and then understand the term "Use Tabby". She does explain this on page XI with a diagram similar to the one I'm showing here in Figure 1, but she doesn't exactly specify what you actually do. In other words, if you know what "Use Tabby" means, you'd understand what she says. But if you haven't a clue what it means, you might not. This seems to be an unfortunate truth about many weaving concepts. It's not easy to find words that accurately represent the reality they are trying to explain. However, even if Davison's words weren't perfectly clear, you did figure it out on your own.

Figure 1 shows the tie-up and treadling for Sun, Moon, and Stars given in Davison. Figure 2 shows the corresponding tie-up for a jack loom and the full treadling for the section shown in Figure 1. You can see that if Davison gave the full treadlings for all of the overshot drafts in her book, the book would have been much, much thicker. And, even better, once you understand these drafts, it's really easier to keep track of where you are and see the development of the pattern using her shortcut method.

Madelyn

An Atlanta-based program is aiming to combat homelessness while simultaneously saving the planet. Through re:loom, individuals in need are learning how to weave beautiful table runners, purses, and other sellable products from recycled materials--in fact, some major businesses have contracted the program to recycle their old uniforms instead of dumping them in a landfill. The program, which is a part of Initiative for Affordable Housing (IAH), offers weavers numerous perks like stable salaries, healthcare, and leadership opportunities. And best of all, weavers learn a valuable skill to kick-start a steady career.

	A trio of happy weavers. Photo by Claudia Mutialu.

One of the reasons many of us weave (besides the fact that handwoven towels are the best towels) is the sense of community. Whether you are a regular guild attendee or an isolated weaver who takes parts in online discussions, we are all part of something big and wonderful. Sarah H. Jackson, frequent Handwoven contributor, guest editor for our fabulous new January/February cotton issue of Handwoven, and our new weaving editor, writes about her own experiences as part of this vast--and wonderful--community. --Christina

In mid-January, I taught a three-day workshop on color for 16 members of my local weaving guild. Each participant chose one of several palettes that I provided and then developed an individual color study using their warp colors as a springboard for ideas. As I drove home on the last day, I found myself smiling as I thought not only about the beautiful samples and everyone’s enthusiasm for learning, but about the many ways they had helped and encouraged each other (and me). Their generosity of spirit and a sense of community made the workshop a joyous time for all of us.

Psychologists McMillan & Chavis define sense of community as “…a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members’ needs will be met through their commitment to be together.” They list four factors that contribute to a sense of community; as you read them, consider how they relate to the weaving community:

First, membership in a community is the feeling of belonging or of sharing a sense of connection.

The second element is a sense of mattering. People in a community acknowledge that others’ needs, values, and opinions matter to them.

The third element is integration and fulfillment of needs. This has to do with a sense of belonging, a support network, thoughtful conversation, and inspiration.

The fourth element is a shared emotional connection: Members with a history of experiences together will form lasting connections. This factor is believed to be the “definitive element for true community.”

I see this working on many levels in the weaving world; in the small group in my workshop, in my guild, and in the online community made possible by the wonders of the Internet. My association with Handwoven has afforded me numerous opportunities to expand my community by connecting with weavers I would have otherwise never known. To mention just a few: I’ve connected with weavers from my alma mater (University of Kansas), made a friend in Serbia (she’s invited me to visit; wouldn’t that be fun?), and had the privilege of participating in the Mayan Hands Dye Project where I got to “meet” the Guatemalan dyers and their dedicated team of mentors.
 
As Handwoven’s new weaving editor, I’m delighted to have the opportunity to be more directly involved with our contributors. I’m on the lookout for fresh ideas and inspirational projects, and I hope you will consider sharing your work with the community of Handwoven’s readers. I look forward to meeting and getting to know you, and to the joy and excitement that I know our shared love of weaving will bring!

--Sarah