Shuttle, shuttle

Diversity, purpose and personal style define shuttle types

Sally Orgren's shuttles and shuttle holder at top center

Once a weaver has a few shuttles in his or her toolkit, what more is there to know? A lot, as Sally Orgren proved in the September program "Boost Your Weaving Skills: All About Shuttles," for the New York Guild of Handweavers. 

Targeted to weavers at all levels of experience, Sally used her personal collection of shuttles and a handout with images to demonstrate different shuttle types and characteristics, as well as proper bobbin/pirn/quill winding, and shuttle handling. 

Match the shuttle type to the loom (shed), the yarn, and personal working styles to improve the weaving experience and the end product, she advises weavers. Consider not only the type of shuttle--stick, boat, ski, rag, etc.--but the unique features of the shuttle. Considerations include:

Sally Orgren winding on a stick shuttle

• Height of the shuttle. Match height to the shed depth on the loom, which is dependent on the loom.
• Length of the shuttle. Match length to the width of the project on the loom.
• Length of the side opening for the weft feed. In most cases, the longer the opening, the more even the feed.
• Type of weft yarn. Bulky, fine, sticky, smooth.
• Shape of the nose: Sharp or blunt? Again, important to the loom type and shed size.
• Open or closed bottom. Mostly personal preference, but heavily loaded bobbins/pirns/quills will drag.
• Handling the shuttle. Very personal. How does the shuttle feel in the hand when you hold the shuttle to throw it? 

Considering buying a new shuttle? Borrow one from a friend and try it before buying it, she suggests.

The yarn goes on

Sally Orgren demonstrates winding a quill

Obviously, winding the weft yarn onto the shuttle depends on the type of shuttle. Sally demonstrated some winding operations. One was loading a stick shuttle using a figure-eight wind-on to load as much as possible yet keep a low profile shuttle. 

She also demonstrated how to make a paper quill, tips to stabilize bobbins on the bobbin winder, and how to wind on bobbins, pirns and quills. (Want to watch someone do it? Check out The Woolery's videos.)

Invitation to learning

Join the South Jersey Guild of Spinners and Handweavers meeting Oct. 1 for "Warp to Weave," a program on how to get started--or how to improve--reading a draft and warping a loom. 

The show goes, no matter the weather

Garden State Sheep and Fiber Festival 2016

Winter's Past Farm, Shelterwood Farm, & Filamenti Co-op 

It was hot, as in, HOT! Saturday morning the temperature was mid-90's and the humidity, absolutely stifling. I don't think I've ever been so hot--not even in the jungles of the Amazon.

I was hot, but certainly not miserable. I shared space with Kris at Winter's Past Farm and Robin at Shelterwood Farm. Serious, fiber-minded people showed up on Saturday morning, but by noon, the shoppers were gone. That left the sheep, who weren't buying. t suppose that was a blessing as I didn't have to move much.

Metis' 3D printer

As always, it was a fun two days, mainly because of fiber friends. Among them were Kae, Pat, Marsha, and Karen who stopped by to chat and catch up. Another highlight was meeting people I've been working with virtually, but have never met in person--especially Elizabeth A. and Pat H. (Check out our work on next summer's MidAtlantic Fiber Association's biennial conference.)

The Skein Competition, which is run by North Country Spinners, is always a big deal, too, if for no other reason than to keep me humble. Very humble. What a high degree of competency these spinners have! Very impressive. My only wish is that names were associated with the entries. I'm sure I know some of the spinners and I'd like to congratulate them.

Metis Industry owners with their printer

And, like fiber festivals everywhere, meeting other fiber-crazy people and seeing new things is what it's about. The title of unique vendor of this year's festival goes to Metis Industries, who make,  among other things, drop spindles with 3D printed decorative top whorls. 

I must confess. I got pretty excited because I have been looking for someone to 3D print some small plastic parts to a small knitting device that is no longer manufactured.

Over the years, a couple of its plastic parts have gone  missing and it's a shame not to have all of the parts. The Metis folks assure me they can print the missing parts--and make the classic machine whole again.

I'm looking forward to putting the device together and sharing this odd piece of recent history with other knitters. You'll see it here first.

Handspun skein competition: Best of Show...obviously (L) and cotton (R)

Ferragosto

Granting the gap a name

This month, I had a writing break that was neither planned nor a slowdown. It just was. And because it's August, I'm calling it my ferragosto.

Life slows down in Italy in August. Actually, that's true across Europe and many shops and restaurants, especially the smaller ones, close for a couple of weeks. The Italians call it 'ferragosto.'

Conversely, I haven't slowed down, but instead of blogging, I've been very busy making and finishing things. I've kept my sewing machine humming with some things I can't talk about yet.

Two major unfinished projects have been haunting me. A rug on the loom and about four yards of handwoven fabric.

The rug. I finished weaving it but can't yet call it finished as I must tie it off and finish the ends. More details and photos to come, obviously

Handwoven yardage. I originally envisioned it made up into a coat. Warped with very fine wool yarn, it was an absolute bear to weave. Although threaded and woven to an 8-shaft herringbone twill, it was so sticky that it didn't weave up to my expectation--or satisfaction.

To stabilize the fabric and harmonize the effect, I lightly wet-felted it. This created a nice tweedy effect in which the herringbone is just barely visible. Nice fabric, but not enough yardage or yarn for the coat I'd imagined. I hemmed and hawed and let it sit for a good while while I pondered its future.

Finally, finally I've found a yarn that complements the gray-blue fabric without outshouting or detracting from it. And since finding it, I've been deep in the weeds working out trim patterns. Photos to follow.

So now you're caught up. (Unfortunately, I'm not--and doubt that I will ever be.)

Lemons to lemonade

What to do with troublesome wool?

 Love the natural colors on my new dryer balls.

In my blog last week, I shared my encounter with wool unsuitable for spinning and a real pain in the neck to card. The answer: Dryer balls. 

I have three and love them! They work just fine, but I've been wanting a couple more--especially when one goes temporarily missing in a pocket or sleeve.

People at fiber shows often ask how to use them. Simple. Throw them in the dryer and leave them there where they keep the clothes from clumping together and the dryer dries more efficiently.

Dryer ball recipe

If you already have the wool, you only need the foot and leg portion of pantyhose or knee-highs. The wool can be in just about any form so long as it will felt. Yarn blends are unlikely to felt well, nor do yarns treated to be machine washable.

Knotted nylon full of wool fiber 

Also beware of dyed and colored wool or yarn as they may bleed out on clothing in the dryer later.
Stuff the wool into the foot of one of the nylons. I made a ball with my hands, inserted it and then just added wool until the nylon was as full as possible. If using yarn, wrap it tightly in a ball.

Pull the nylon tightly around the ball and make a knot at the top, as in the photo at right. I had enough to make another ball, so I repeated the stuffing and tying process in the same nylon. 
Then I threw the knotted nylon with the two wooly balls into the washer with a load of towels and the wash water set to hot. I wanted the wool to felt--and felt a lot. The balls followed the towels into the dryer. 

There is no recipe. If the ball doesn't felt enough on the first load, repeat the washer and dryer runs until it feels fairly solid. Not hard. Just firm.

After I'd finished the two dryer balls at the top right, I found some wool that I'd overlooked and added it to a ball that was on the small side. The wool didn't adhere tightly to the felted ball, so I wrapped it with some test yarn that I'd spun and discarded and sent it back through the washer and dryer in my next towel load. It is perfect!

Note: At least three dryer balls are needed for them to work effectively. Five is even better.

A fine fleece

Two types of fiber, side by side

Or not

When the fleece came off the ewe in March, it shone silver gray and lustrous in the sun. I was definitely tempted to take it home then and there, but I had sworn a pact to myself that I would not bring home another fleece. I said, no. 

Later, the fleece came up in a discussion among friends and one immediately offered to split it with me. The fleece came home.

Determined not to let it sit for months, I immediately scoured it using Beth Smith's Simple and Mostly Quick method. When it was dry, I set to work carding it with visions of spinning in my mind.

Gnarly black fibers

A silk purse, it isn't

Were I more experienced, I surely would have recognized the problem, but I'm not and I didn't. 

Putting it through the carder was hard. The licker filled and the drums locked. I attributed it to poor fiber prep and spent too much time going through the fleece, pulling it apart and trying to release any sticky bits with a small comb. 

And I kept trying. But even with all the prep and  four passes through the carder, there were still lots and lots of gnarly, nubby black bits. Clearly, the fleece would not be suitable for handspinning. But what is the problem?

That was when I stepped back and examined the locks very carefully. At the base of most of the locks was a snaggly clump of black fiber. It was extremely hard to separate from the locks. Pulling on a lock did not separate it. Rather, the fibers locked together and felt like wire. I didn't have the black fiber tested, but it looked and felt much coarser than the gray fiber. (Note: These were different from the dark fibers in the photo at top right.)

Gnarls in carded batt

I took photos and shared them, along with questions, with more knowledgable spinners. 

Turns out the ewe was double-coated. She shouldn't have been. But she was. And, interestingly, double-coated sheep are typically described as having a longer, coarse outer coat and a short fine undercoat. This is the exact opposite. The outer coat is long and fine and the undercoat, coarser. Some obscure, long recessive gene had clearly expressed itself. 

Now what?

I finished carding what seemed the most suitable, cutting the base of the locks with scissors. I still have gnarls throughout the batts. And I now have a lot of carded batts with gnarls. Maybe a felting project is in my future?

I didn't even try to card the coarser black fibers. But I didn't throw them away, either. More next week.

African fabrics and fashion

An example of a Vlisco textile

African fabrics to impress, inspire and surprise

First, the surprise. The wax printed textiles traditionally associated with West and Central Africa aren't manufactured in African at all. Rather, they've been designed and made in Europe for a very long time (and now China and India). 

Currently, five exhibitions at The Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) currently has five exhibitions under the umbrella, Creative Africa. Ranging from historial to contemporary, two of the exhibits focus on  fabrics and fashion. 

Vllisco. (de Groot) 2007. 

Dutch fabrics to Africa

The exhibition, Vlisco: African Fashion on a Global Stage, focuses on historical and contemporary textiles from the Dutch company Vlisco. Founded in 1846, the company entered the market in the last quarter of the 19th century--and was the market leader for years. It and continues to influence African fashion in through its its unique fabric designs in 'Dutch wax' fabrics that originate from batik techniques. 

Vlisco textile with scissor design. 

Vlisco doesn't distribute its cloth by design name, allowing African traders who sell it to name the patterns. Such naming practices add a layer of identity, status and value. 

Some designs are drawn from earlier textiles. One example is this swallow design by Marjan de Groot in 2007, an update of a 1949 design by Tonnie Wouda. Both are cotton, wax block prints.

There were shoes, ties, and scissors, to name just a few. Maybe a seamstress would wear the print with scissors?

Traditional textiles

Another gallery showcases the traditional textiles of Central and West African weavers, dyers, and other artisans in the museum's Threads of Tradition exhibit. Strip-weaving, resist dyeing, appliqué, and embroidery provide beautiful colors and patterns.

The colorful man's cloth (above left) was made by the Ewe or Adangme culture, Ghana or Togo c. 1920-1970. According to the label, It is strip-woven cotton warp-faced and balanced plain weave with continuous supplementary wefts and weft-faced rib weave. 

A woman's loincloth or skirt (above right) was particularly fascinating. Made by the Dida culture, Côte d'Ivoire, c. 1900-1950, it is braided of raffia in a tube and stitch-resist dyed--the stitch points can be seen in some sections.

Look Again

Although not focused on textiles, the exhibit "Look Again: Contemporary Perspectives on African Art" is a must-see. This major collaborative exhibition, which is billed as the heart of "Creative Africa," is drawn from the Penn Museum’s world-renowned African collection. Featuring art created in West and Central Africa from the 1500s to the 1900s, the show is impressive.

Sticking to my knitting

...but not necessarily hand knitting

Knit purses. Imagine a drawstring through the top hems.

Want to see a hand knitter turn up their noses? Mention machine knitting. Typical responses include 'Oh! Dumbed-down knitting, eh?' Or 'How fast can you make a sweater?' Or their body language gives them away. They wrinkle their noses.

Yes, they do.

And I can't really figure out why. It can't be about handwork. I don't know one seamstress who would want to go without a sewing machine or a weaver who would turn down an electric bobbin winder or a woodworker who would wrinkle a nose at an electric saw. 

Yet it is exactly the same thing. 

Since my trip last week to the Met for their Manus x Machina exhibition, I must conclude that it is a subset of hand knitters who spurn advances in mechanization and/or technology. If the designs in the show are any indication, the most creative designers avidly embrace mechanics and technologies to achieve unique works.

Hands and machine

I hand knit, but I also have a knitting machine. (Hands still required). Originally I bought it to complement my 10-harness countermarch Glimakra loom. I have a jacket with a woven front and knit back, sleeves and finishes from the machine. Using the same yarns, the knit portions complement the woven part beautifully. 

But like Sleeping Beauty, my machine slumbered for a number of years. When it awakened this spring, we have become seriously reacquainted. I've knit a few things, one of which is the Pinelands Spring cowl knit from my homespun that I shared here. 

Group learning

One knitter demonstrates how to make a pleat

There is nothing so enjoyable as sharing with like-minded people. As I was relearning my machine, I found the Rapid Rows Machine Knitting Guild of Central Jersey and planned to visit. When I did, I was blown away. 

My machine is too big and too heavy to take anywhere so I planned to just sit in on what they were doing. That plan lasted about two minutes.

One woman 'just happened to have' a (second) portable machine in the trunk of her car. Another had a (second) sawhorse adapted to hold a machine. Note, I said 'second.' Each of them had a machine set up and ready to knit. Oh, yes. Then two balls of yarn were in my hand!

That day we made little purses with pleats in the center front and back and a hem at the top for a drawstring. I made one, too. Mine is the brown one on the upper left. Now I'll have to make one at home--maybe with a sparkly yarn.