Nålbinding Slipper-socks

With everything else I've been doing, this Crow-original nålbinding project went by the wayside, and I really hoped to get it done in time to put in the Puyallup Fair. But wait...! There's a problem. I can't find a Division to submit it under, let alone a Class! Obviously, it doesn't belong with Knitting or Crochet, and the closest I could come was an "Other" classification under a catch-all which seems primarily dedicated to embroidery. I even contacted the Fair, but they were no help.

So, lemme tell ya, that braid was a pain in the neck! I quickly discovered that the instructions I had for making it were not going to work well, so I designed another way to apply it, working each strand of the braid separately. Even that was a nightmare! I took the third row out of one sock twice before discovering that the reason it wasn't twining correctly was because I'd made a mistake in the second row. That experience taught me to run a "guide thread" through the legs of the braid to keep track of where I was supposed to weave over/under. But aren't they adorable? I think they were well worth the work.

Silly String

The skein is 88 yards, the bobbin 107 yards (I wound it off after I took the photo). That's almost enough Silly String to make a rag rug. And lemme tell ya, this is a lot of work for a "scraps" project! The yarn is made from weaving thrums, leftovers of warp and bobbin extras tied together, then spun into two bobbins-worth of 4-ply, and then spun again to make an 8-ply strand. Hard work or no, the resultant product satisfies two criteria in my book: one, it utilizes something which most people would discard and two, it's colourful, light-hearted and soon to be useful. Hey, that's a win-win as far as I'm concerned. Okay, so I get really tired of tying all those ends together, but I love seeing the combinations come together on the spinning wheel. I figure I need 200-250 yards to make a rug, but now I'm out of thrums!

Nålbinding On and Off

For some time now, I have wanted to learn how to nålbind "off the thumb" (bottom) as opposed to "on the thumb" (top), the difference being that in working off the thumb, smaller stitches can be made using finer yarns and threads. The technique baffled me until I discovered one critical step, i.e., that the work is flattened out so that the needle passes either over or under the threads without the twist involved in working "on the thumb." As I worked, I began to understand another mystery, that of the nålbinding notation which reads along the lines of "OO/UU/OO," representing "over" and "under" the respective threads. The limitation in working "on the thumb" is that your thumb, be it large or small, is the gauge for your stitch size. In working "off the thumb" (i.e., held in the hand without any wraps being carried over the thumb), stitch size is governed by the size of the needle. This has opened up an entirely new world to me as far as nålbinding is concerned, and although I've only worked the small sample shown in the bottom picture, be George, I think I've got it!

Nalbinding Hats

 

When I was hit by an unexpected cyber-vacation (i.e., my computer turned up its metaphorical toes and died without significant preamble), I shifted my focus to finishing old projects and starting some new ones. It was while I was making a red nålbinding "resistance" hat in the "cat hat" style that I remembered having started another one ages ago using wool from one of my first sheep. There was only one place I could have put it (in the cedar chest to keep the moths out of the wool), but a perfunctory initial search didn't turn it up, nor did a subsequent deeper dive. There was nothing for it but to take everything out until I either hit bottom or found the hat. Fortunately, it was only about halfway down, nested in a bag which should have been obvious. I finished the cat hat (not to be confused with a "pussy hat," but it does have corners which look like ears, hence the name of the style), and then settled in to completing the cloche. I found nålbinding to be an exercise in "mindfulness" this time around, and noticed that during the enforced cyber-vacation, my stress levels dropped to nearly normal instead of running at a fevered pitch. Sigh. But good things seldom last, and here I am again, back with a new computer...and two new hats. Henceforth, I won't be numbering these posts because of the lapse.

Nålbinding While I Wait

Day 109: Well, where to start? I lost internet, cell and land line late yesterday afternoon. The land line came back to life fairly quickly, although terribly full of static (again!), but internet and cell were out until just a few minutes ago. In the meantime, I needed to take my car in for an oil change, so I packed up a handwork project (one which only required yarn, needles and scissors) and spent two hours getting a really good start on a Norwegian-style hat. Went grocery shopping after I got my car back, forgot to apply the appropriate coupons, futzed with customer service over how to remedy the situation and wound up just returning the products. By the time I got home, I was worn out, but very pleased with the progress I made on the nålbinding.

It's been a while since I did any nålbinding, and had to do a brief review of how to do Finnish 2+2 stitch, "brief" as in "I threw away about 20 yards of yarn because nålbinding is almost impossible to unpick." That said, it's also very sturdy, because even if it gets a hole, it won't unravel. There's been talk about making "resistance" hats, a la the ones the Norwegians wore during WWII. Most current patterns are knit or crocheted, and are essentially nothing more than a standard stocking cap with a tassel instead of a pompom. Nålbinding is a traditional Norwegian technique, so I felt it was a logical option. It's also slow, so I may not have the hat finished in time to wear this winter.

Crewelwork

Day 98: It recently occurred to me that there was one type of needlework I had not discussed in my posts other than a casual mention of it being among the various crafts I do. There's a reason for that, namely that I don't do it any more, not because I didn't enjoy it, but because the particular type of yarn it requires is no longer produced (or not by any recognizable manufacturer). This is crewelwork, a type of embroidery which uses 3-ply wool in the same manner you'd use regular embroidery floss. Like floss, it could be divided so that one or two strands could be used at the stitcher's discretion to create finer lines, smaller embellishments and more intricate blending. The wool disappeared from the market 25-30 years ago, and at the time, I thought it just wasn't being carried by any of the shops I visited (this was well before the internet, mind you). Needlepoint yarn (an entirely different product) is available even today, but the three-strand crewel wool simply vanished. Today, you can pick it up second-hand on websites such as Etsy and eBay, but you're taking a chance with respect to moth-chewed strands or worse, moth eggs. Strangely, these two pieces (the only ones I still own) have never been bothered by bugs. Truly, the loss of the wool was a crewel twist of fate for those of us who enjoyed the art.

Dorset Buttons

Day 293: Some years ago when my sister-of-the-heart Patty was here for a visit, I was dragging out various and sundry craft items to show her, one of which was hand-made greeting cards. I think I'd kinda overwhelmed her by then because she said laughingly, "Oh, and I suppose you made the paper, too!" I was reminded of a similar incident twenty years earlier, but I was compelled to answer honestly and somewhat sheepishly, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

Yesterday, I got a note from Patty asking if I'd ever heard of "Dorset buttons." After all, I am a fiberartist, and while I haven't dabbled in every single type of thread-craft, I've certainly hit quite a few of the less commonly seen ones. "Yep," I said. "Lemme see if I can find mine." It took less time than expected, and although Dorset buttons are usually (but not always) made over a ring instead of a button form, these fall within the broader definition. Technically, they would be further distinguished with the term "needle-lace buttons," and the method of working is similar to that used in hardanger to fill open areas, or on a larger scale, in making traditional "god's-eye" decorations. A framework of threads is laid down, and then a pattern is created on the web by wrapping it in a specified order. The designs shown here are "checkerboard leek" (blue, top left), "star leek" (blue, bottom) and "Victorian star" (lavender-grey, top right). All were made with #8 perle cotton on a 3/4" shankless form. Almost any stiff material can be used as a base: cardboard, plastic discs, even commercially made buttons. As a general rule, they were meant to be removed before laundering, and often had a second button sewn to the back side to fit into a matched pair of buttonholes in the garment in the same manner cufflinks are used. After sending Patty the photo, I started to wonder where my instructions were. It took longer to find the directions than it did to find the buttons!

Project Lineup

Day 81: You might say that I have my projects lined up going into the new year, but in fact, my hearth nearly always looks like this, and actually, this represents only the current works in progress. There is organization in those baskets, and at any given moment, I can grab one to move it to a position beside my chair, putting everything I need within arm's reach as I settle in for a stint at a loom or the wheel. Today, I'm a bit behind my usual rate of progress, but the house is "de-Christmased" and put back in its customary orderly disarray. As much as I'd like to be weaving, knitting or spinning, I think a nap is more compelling.

Winding A Turkish Turtle

Day 186: While I've never had much success at spinning on a bottom-whorl drop spindle, for some reason, using a Turkish-style model has come easily. It has a distinct advantage over the round-whorled types, in that when you are done, you have a ready-made center-pull ball which is easily removed from the spindle by removing the shaft and pulling out the crossarms. As you can see by using the pencil for comparison, I am spinning a fine single here, and winding it on in the "god's-eye" manner known as a turtle. Forming a well-made Turkish turtle is a skill all of its very own! The spun yarn passes under one arm, over two, laying closely beside itself on both top and bottom. For me at least, effecting this takes almost as much time (or perhaps more) than spinning the length of yarn, and while my technique still leaves something to be desired, it's much better than it was on my first attempts. Two such turtles will eventually be used to form a double-ply strand. It should be noted that the turtle can also be called a cop, and you should be relieved that I have spared you all the possible "good cop, bad cop" humour, at least for now.

Fringe Twister

Day 357: "Gadget," I said to myself when I first saw a fringe twister for sale. "I don't need another gadget." And then I sat down at the loom and wove another shawl, knit another scarf, made some cotton towels, and about halfway through the tedium of licking my fingers, picking up a pair of threads, spinning them 10-12 times, picking up a second pair while holding the first tightly, spinning those, and then allowing the two pairs to twist together, I would say, "Dang, I wish I had a fringe twister." Well, now I have one, and the process of making twisted fringe which would normally have taken half an hour took about five minutes. Sometimes gadgets move to the back of the closet in fairly short order, but sometimes they're good. The fringe twister is brilliant.

Mine has three clips. Some models only have two. Each clip is attached to a small metal crank, and each of those is anchored in a piece of wood with an offset handle. When you rotate the handle, the cranks go 'round on their axes, rotating the clips. Thus, each strand of yarn (or groups of threads) captured in a clip is twisted simultaneously with those caught in the other clips. The handle is rotated in the same direction as the twist of the yarn, and when the yarn is removed from the clips and knotted at the ends, the threads twist back on themselves to form a neat, even fringe. The operator only needs to count revolutions of the handle (20 in this case) to obtain a uniform fringe across the work. This model gives you the option of using two or three groups of threads (or singles). What a time-saver!

Plying The Cinnamon Twist

Day 164: I go at my crafts in fits and starts, a factor which used to annoy my husband terribly. I'd spend six months doing cross-stitch and beadwork and then, without further ado, shelve the supplies for both and pick up sewing or needlepoint. The point he was missing was that I finished everything I started, sooner or later, as my interest in a particular form of fiberart circled around again. Unless I was driven to complete a project by a specific date, say for a birthday or wedding gift, it didn't make sense to me to work at something I found boring when I knew that a vacation from it of weeks or even months would eventually draw me back and perhaps even be more productive in the long term, but that logic escaped his view entirely. He objected that I would stockpile supplies only to abandon their craft after a few months, but in the broad view, that was simply not the case.

For the last four years, I have had a quilt (several different ones, actually) mounted on a frame which takes up a substantial portion of space in my living room. The quilt currently on it is almost complete. Even though I have begun piecing another one, I will probably put quilting aside for some time as I delight in once again having "room in my room." Weaving...well, weaving is another story. The big loom has a room of its own, and it seldom stands empty for more than a week. Admittedly, some projects have taken me months to complete because I got bored halfway through, but when I returned to them, I went at it with a vengeance, usually driven by having another project in mind. Other crafts are seasonal, like spinning. I set the wheel aside when our wet months began, simply because I don't have space inside to hang finished yarn to dry. Now that nicer days are in the forecast, I've settled in to finish the "cinnamon twist." During the winter, I picked and carded the remaining brown wool and finished spinning it a few days ago. Now I am plying it, having also spun up most of the white Corriedale needed for the project. What's next? I don't know, but the likelihood of another year of isolation leaves space for a lot of fiberarts projects.

Fiber Manipulation 2021

Day 80: If I was asked to write "How I Spent 2020," the largest chapter (indeed, perhaps 85 percent of the essay) would be on fiber arts. I see nothing to indicate that 2021 will follow a different course. I'm already off to a grand start with one towel finished since Christmas and another well on the way (a project done on my big loom, right), and besides having knitting projects on needles and on the rake, cardweaving (above, left) plus a piece of sprang, a quilt, spinning, kumihimo using yarn and a crocheted tablecloth all going presently, I am anxious to get started on a hand-manipulated piece for rigid heddle and am just waiting for the supplies to arrive. I have my maternal grandmother to thank for initiating me into many of the ways one can create textiles, and for instilling in me the patience to see such long-term projects through to completion. Admittedly, I'd have preferred to spend more time outdoors, but on the same hand, I am enjoying my adventures with strings of all sorts.

Sprang

Day 42: I have to thank a friend for reminding me of this particular fiber art a few days ago. I had not done any of it for...well, for at least sixty years. As soon as Ruth mentioned sprang, synapses snapped closed one after another, lighting up memories of twisting warp with my fingers, making it slant one way and then the other, working both ends toward a center of ever-increasing narrowness and weaving together the gap to form a solid bottom. I remembered the name: sprang (pronounced correctly, it is said "sprong," but Americans and some Brits insist on saying "sprang" as if no other language is as official as English). Could I have told you its origins or its history? No. I don't think we ever discussed those subjects when I was in grade school, but it is known from many cultures and dates back as far as the Bronze Age. What is unique about sprang is that it is made almost entirely of warp threads, the exception occurring where the two halves of the weaving meet in the middle. Here, the fiber artist has to choose a means to close and secure the stitches, and one of those options is to weave them together with three passes of a weft thread. This creates an inelastic turning point, i.e., a good bottom for a little soap bag like this one. Elasticity is one of sprang's chief characteristics. While on the frame, the weaving is packed tightly, and when taken off and opened out, its width may easily double. Vertical stretch is minimal. When warping for sprang, the threads must be kept fairly loose to allow for take-up as the piece progresses. It was this point I had forgotten from the weaving of my childhood days, and I had to cut several pieces off my makeshift frame before I struck a happy medium between too tight and too loose. My frame is not ideal (a needlepoint stretcher) nor are the shish-kebab skewers I'm using to hold the sheds, but I was anxious to "sprang forth" into rediscovery of a needlework technique I'd forgotten I'd ever learned.

Hung For A Sheep

Day 43: The final stage in spinning wool is setting the twist, done by soaking the yarn and then hanging it to dry with weights (Gatorade bottles again) at the bottom. After an hour or two, the skeins should be advanced a little, and again in another few hours until the yarn is fully dry.

This is the wool I purchased at the Washington State Fair. I was unable to find any bags of exactly the same colour, so picked two which were close and equal in weight. I spun the dye lots separately and then plied them together, resulting in the lovely "tweedy" effect. That said, I'm going to be a little more critical when it comes to buying wool at the Fair if I do it again. One bag was good; the other was "padded" with tag ends combed out of the carders and included flecks of mylar, worthless puffs of a much softer and shorter wool, second cuts, straw and neps (tiny mats of fiber which are almost impossible to comb out). Nevertheless, I got 7.25 ounces of usable yarn from 8 ounces of stock, and the finished product is as pretty as I'd imagined it would be.

Daisy, Daisy

Day 31: Yesterday, a not-too-obscure piece of fiberarts equipment came under discussion when the person who owned it posted a photo with the suggestion that it might be a potato peeler. I laughed, because it was not the first time someone had showed me a rug-maker's punch needle believing it to be a kitchen tool. The shape is very similar. Most people are familiar with a latch-hook, but fewer would recognize the punch. I've made many rugs with one, although I prefer the much faster method of weaving them.

So...obscure bits of fiberarts equipment on the board, how many of you would have known what a daisy winder was? Daisy-making was popular in my grandmother's day, and indeed it was at her knee that I learned to make them on these same two winders over sixty years ago. The principle is simple: turn the knurled knob to extend the spokes, wind yarn over them proceeding around the clock, stitch the center in an under 4/back 3 fashion until one or two circuits are complete. Tuck the tails, turn the knurled knob the opposite way and...off pops your first daisy! Repeat this procedure until you have enough daisies for your project.

The last part is the hardest. Daisies get very boring after a while, and if you had planned to make an afghan, you may find yourself wishing you'd signed on to count the stars in the sky or the grains of sand on the seashore. A scarf or a bed-jacket is a much more reasonable goal. Trust me, I know. In fact, my daisy afghan was so much work that I keep it tucked away in the cedar chest, not wanting to put it out for daily use. That said, every now and then, I break out the winders and make a scarf for a gift, rows of daisies separated by rows of hairpin lace. Oh! Hairpin lace! That's another fiberart which has almost gone by the wayside. Arts of bygone days, they are...most taught to me before I was school-age by a grandmother who was an exceptional needleworker.

Off The Loom

Day 75: The project I began at Christmastime 2013 is off the loom at last! I am now engaged in tying 756 bundles of fringe and then the fabric will be ready for fulling.

Woven in traditional birdseye and tabby using natural 6/2 and colored 8/2 cotton on 27' of warp and 210 ends, these pieces will finish at approximately 14" x 21" (allowing for shrinkage). They make excellent fingertip/kitchen towels, but are also heavy enough to serve as placemats on the table.

And of course hindsight is always clearer than foresight. I wish now that I had used a heavier warp or a lighter weft so the birdseye patterns would have been more obvious. However, weaving threads are not as easily obtainable as they once were, and my favourite supplier closed his shop for health reasons years ago. I do not like to purchase fiberart supplies without being able to finger the goods, limiting me to one shop in Seattle (a major expedition, by my standards). Alternately, I could have warped at 15 dents per inch instead of 12, but that would have resulted in a harder fabric which would have been unsuitable as towels. That said, I am pleased with these, and subtle woven textures have their own appeal.