Showing posts with label cards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cards. Show all posts

Monday, February 1, 2021

Making A Shed


Day 111: Today, we're going to make a shed. You won't need hammer and nails, nope, because when a weaver makes a shed, it means that they are using some type of device (dare I say "contraption?") to separate warp threads into two layers, one above the other. When using a standard loom, this is effected by means of foot-operated treadles or hand-operated jacks which in turn raise or lower sets of heddles mounted in harnesses or frames. For the sake of clarity, I will shorten this to "raise" from here on out, and if you have a sinking-shed loom, you can just mentally substitute "lower" where it applies.

So...I heard somebody in the back say, "You're getting ahead of us here. What are these 'heddles' of which you speak?" Heddles come in a variety of forms and materials, but all perform the same function: each one carries a warp thread in sequence so that it can be raised or left idle as the weaver desires. The thread may pass through an eyelet as it does in the metal heddles on my floor loom (upper left), or eyelets and slots in alternation on a rigid-heddle loom (lower left), or the threads may be controlled by strings (shown upper right on an inkle loom). String heddles may also be used on other types of looms including floor looms, but lack the durability required for sustained weaving. In the case of tablet-weaving, rotating cards (lower right) are used to open the sheds. One way or another, raising heddled threads above unheddled threads form the shed through which the shuttle will be passed.

Commercially-produced heddles can be made of metal, wire, plastic or cord, and although cards aren't generally referred to as "heddles," they serve the same purpose. The meticulous threading of the heddles in a specified sequence is the true "work" of the weaver. Once that is done, most other actions are purely mechanical unless, of course, the pattern requires the weaver to manually pick up some threads to form a shed impossible to create with heddles alone. I'll discuss "manipulated weaves" in a future post.

Friday, May 31, 2013

When The Walls Come Tumbling Down


Day 241: In the light of several recent events, I have been pondering the instability and impermanence of the internet. This monster was released upon the world untimely; unmuzzled, unleashed and relatively uncontrolled, it brought into the peace of our lives a whole new wealth of woes. With it came viruses and hackers, and it made identity theft a fear in the hearts of us all. It gobbled our time; it disenfranchised our families; yet we embraced it and confided in it, dumping our deepest secrets into the electronic ether where they might be retrieved by anyone with a mind to prowl. We trusted it. We gave it our family photos, our driver's license and credit card numbers, our service records. We allowed it to follow us into department stores and forests, into our doctors' offices, into our best friend's wife's bedroom, and we invited it to document the event which transpired there.

Once we awakened to the error of our ways, once we had discovered to our embarrasment and shame that our secrets were available for public perusal at a click, we tried to stem the tide. Alas, it was too late. Fools that we are, instead of withdrawing from its maw, we fed it more of our personal data, blindly believing that the odds would fall on our side, and that the inevitable would somehow pass us by. We did not understand just how insidious the Monster is, nor how pervasive; nor, indeed, how fragile. Websites change. Our most carefully crafted security measures can be circumvented. The internet houses hundreds of thousands of parasitic organisms, each waiting for a victim, and still there is no check, no collar put on this maleficent and virulent beast.

The internet is an unstable edifice. It is not a vault. It is not impermeable. It is not unbreachable. It is a house of cards, ready to tumble at the slightest breeze.