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.

Dressing The Loom 1

Day 174: At a time when I'm desperately short of natural-history materials for my daily posts, I am pleased that several friends have expressed interest in the step-by-step process of weaving. Because this is a large project made with relatively fine thread, one or two phases are all I can hope to achieve in a single day.

Having wound the warp onto the back beam using my (jokingly) patented "Gatorade Method," I was ready to proceed with drawing the threads through their individual heddles yesterday morning. The heddles on this loom are held in four harnesses (i.e., it is a "four-shaft loom"). To weave a twill pattern, the heddles must be threaded in precise order, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. There's no room for mistakes here, so of course that meant I committed one: I miscounted heddles on the #3 harness, shorting the pattern by 20. I was not so far into the threading when I discovered the error, but even so, fixing it was a major undertaking because the heddles WERE partly threaded and I didn't want to pull out two hours' work. The alternative solution was to figure out how to add additional heddles to the harness, if indeed that was even possible. By raising the #3 harness and supporting it with a spacer, I was able to access the screw securing the lower heddle rod. By lowering the #3 harness, raising #1, #2 and #4 and supporting them with a spacer, I was able to get at the screw for the upper heddle rod somewhat more easily. This part wasn't as hard as I'd expected it to be, and I thought I was home, free and easy. However, when I threaded new heddles onto the lower rod, I discovered they were an inch too short to mount on the upper rod. Bugger! Apparently I'd bought them for a different loom (probably the table loom I never use). Now the heddle-exchange project had taken on a much larger dimension. I had plenty of spare heddles on other harnesses, so by means of a lot of fiddling and diddling, I removed them from #2 and placed them on #3. In the process, I knocked a plant off the shelf and spread dirt all over the craft room floor. Needless to say, by this point, I had used up my daily allotment of profanity and was taking out a loan for more. By bedtime, I was still 75 threads short of done, but my nerves and back were shrieking. This morning, I finished up the threading of the heddles and am now ready for the next phase: threading the reed. Then let the weaving commence!

Warped

Day 71: The project currently on my loom has been there since Christmas 2013, and I have no excuse for having largely ignored it for the better part of the last year. I would occasionally sit down at the bench and make a few nominal throws, once even completing six inches in a half-hour marathon of weaving, then again letting the shuttles go idle for another two or three months. I enjoy weaving, and perhaps my flagging energies in that direction were due to the project being a simple over-and-under tabby. I had warped for a birds-eye design, but the weft should have been heavier to do it justice; in lieu of making another trip to Seattle, I reverted to the simpler weave.

Recently, I sent my piano to a new home with the thought of moving the loom into the living room. Although I don't think that's actually going to happen, it was sufficient motivation to set the shuttles flying once again. As I considered the logistics of moving the loom, I realized I'd have to get the project off the beams in order to dismantle it so it would pass through the doorway. In two days' time, I've woven three towels/placemats and only have one to go (I'd warped for seven).

Weaving in and of itself is repetitive work. You raise a shed, pass the shuttle through, then change sheds and pass the shuttle the opposite direction. The pattern is determined beforehand as the threads are sequenced through the heddles. The weaver's art lies in the accurate threading of hundreds of "eyes." Any error will be apparent when the weaving is begun and will require some very tedious undoing to set to rights.