One Thing At A Time

Day 95: You've heard it said that there are exceptions to every rule. Weaving is the exception to my self-imposed restriction which dictates that I can only work on one project at a time of any particular type of fiberart. Knit, crochet, tat, etc., I am only allowed one of each in progress. Why is weaving different? Because there are so many different ways it can be done. Certainly, all of them involve crossing vertical threads with horizontal ones if it comes right down to it, but each style of weaving requires a different skill-set to achieve the end result. Although three of the looms in the picture are small and portable and generally occupy the living room when in service, the floor loom (a corner of which is visible in the lower right) is what gives the "Loom Room" its name. It went into that room in pieces, and the only way it will ever come out is if it is dismantled. It occupies over a quarter of the available floor space. Looms not currently in use take up much of what remains. I nearly always have at least two looms in operation, and there has never been a time when all of them were empty at once.

Naked Potential

Day 83: There is so much potential represented in a naked loom! Yes, the waffle throw is off the rollers, although I only have the panels halfway stitched together as yet. There is a Plan in the works, but first I must finish up the last few inches of a band in order to free up the warping board because it currently holds the next warp for the bonker loom. That's a simpler solution than digging into the cupboard to retrieve my second warping board from behind fabric and fiber-arts equipment boxes. There is one major decision to be made, however: colour. I want to try out a new summer-and-winter draft and may have to flip a coin to choose between traditional colours (red or blue) or go with something more modern. I'm leaning slightly toward the latter, just to spice things up a little. Of course, once I've made my test pieces (probably several towels) and know how the draft works up, then I'll have a better perspective for drawing up a Grand Plan for a tablecloth or coverlet. For those of us who love experiments, the promise offered by a naked loom is too much to resist for long.

Totally Naked

Day 36: Naked! Completely starkers! Totally undressed! And you know what that means, don't you? There's a new warp waiting to be mounted on the floor loom, already measured and wound. The big loom seldom stands empty for more than a few days, and is generally used for more time-consuming projects than my smaller looms. For one reason, it holds more. I can easily wind on 10, 15, 20 yards of warp, enough to keep me occupied for several months depending on the weave. Although the loom is four feet wide, I usually prefer to work narrower panels if I'm making coverlets or blankets, sometimes joining as many as four panels in order to attain the desired width. Of course, this method requires paying strict attention to the number of throws per inch and as all weavers know, this is often dependent on mood. Don't weave when you're cranky! As gratifying as it may be to pound those threads against the fell, the difference in the beat may show up in your finished work. That said, the act of weaving is a meditation in its own right: the chatter of the heddles, the rise and fall of the harnesses, the rhythm of feet and hands and the growth of cloth advancing toward the reed combine to distract almost every sense from the chaos of worldly cares. No, my big loom won't stand empty for long. The geas of weaving is upon me, and I must obey its call.

Beat It!

Day 117: While I'm working on setting up a couple of new projects to replace the tablet-weaving and inkle I've just completed, we can step into my crafts room and have a look at the process of weaving on a floor or table loom. I've mentioned beating the fibers into place and how the reed keeps them spaced as a certain sett of threads per inch (the latter more commonly referred to as "ends per inch" or "dents per inch," "epi" and "dpi" respectively). The weaver determines which reed to use based on suggestions from the fiber manufacturer or from experience. In this case, I am using a 15-dent reed and 8/2 cotton to make a series of dish towels. It's a combination I use frequently. The photo shows my last throw (also known as a "pick") only partways into being beaten against the fell line (the previous row). I passed the shuttle bearing the blue thread from right to left and will bring the wooden frame holding the metal reed (the beater bar) against it firmly to pack it into place. Then I will change the shed by depressing another pair of treadles so that I can make a throw from left to right in pattern.

You might notice that I've left a slight arc in the thread as it crosses the warps. This helps keep the selvedges of the cloth from drawing in and becoming more narrow as the weaving progresses. I have to brag a little: I got top marks for my selvedges in the judging at the Washington State Fair. It's a skill I've worked hard to master. Now as for "beating," the word is slightly misleading, although in this particular instance, the 8/2 cotton demands a pretty strong hand at this sett. Other fibers may ask to be gently pressed into place in order to prevent breakage or undue abrasion. Many fibers will "full" with washing as well, swelling to fill up the gaps between threads which are obvious when the fabric is raw. Whenever using a fiber for the first time, it is always advisable to weave a test swatch or at least treat a bundle of the threads in the manner they can expect in their new life as whole cloth. This will prevent any unpleasant surprises like shrinkage or colour-bleed.

Loom Types

Day 112: Gosh, here I am, rambling on about heddles and sheds, and I haven't shown you the most important part: the looms themselves! And forgive me, I had finished assembling the collage before realizing that I'd left out backstrap, so you'll just have to imagine a simple warp attached to a hook on one end and my waist on the other.

When I'm ready to engage in a serious weaving project which requires a long warp and a time commitment of several weeks or even months, I set it up on my four-foot floor loom (top left). This beast occupies the better part of my crafts room which, despite the name, is not a room where I do crafts, but rather the space in which all my supplies are kept. A floor loom needs a home of its own. It's not the type of thing you put in your living room for several reasons. One, it won't leave much room for guests and two, the act of weaving generates an uncommon amount of lint as the fibers rub against each other and against the parts of the loom. If you are thinking about getting a floor loom, you might want to ask yourself what it would be like to have a St. Bernard in the house. Right. Moving on, then.

A far more reasonable consideration for the casual hobbyist weaver would be a table loom. The distinction between it and a floor loom is somewhat loosely defined because many table looms can be mounted on floor stands, and kits are available for some to convert from jack operation (hand levers) to treadles, essentially turning the "table" model into a floor loom. Better to think of it as a matter of size. A table loom fits on a table. A floor loom does not. My table loom is shown center bottom, currently unwarped because I have a project on the floor loom. You can see the jack levers at the center top, two up and two down.

Rigid heddle looms (left and right bottom) are very portable and a good place for a novice weaver to begin. They are built to be used on a table-top, but can also be mounted in a floor stand. Table space being at something of a premium around here, both of mine are on stands. Although the one on the left is being used in the customary fashion while I weave a scarf, the one on the right holds a tablet-weaving project, its warps weighted with water-filled Gatorade bottles (the same warp-stretching method I use to warp my floor and table looms by myself). A major difference between standard weaving looms and rigid-heddle looms is in the heddles. Metal straps, wires or strings are used to hold the warp threads in sequence on a standard loom. These heddles slide along bars in the harness frame, permitting the weaver to use almost any size thread which will pass through the eye. On the other hand, a rigid heddle is exactly that: rigid, i.e., a piece of plastic with a set number of eyes and slots per inch. To change the number of threads per inch, the weaver has to swap out one rigid heddle for another of a different size. However, when using a floor/table loom, the number of threads per inch is determined by the reed, a slotted metal guide which is held in the beater bar. Weaver argot for this is "dents per inch," i.e., the number of slots in an inch of reed. It is important to note here that sometimes more than one warp thread is drawn through each dent. For example, I once wove a linen piece at 45 threads per inch, but since my finest reed was a 15-dent reed, each dent carried three warp threads.

Last in the collage is the inkle loom (upper right). Inkle looms are designed to make narrow bands for use as trims, straps or belts. The resulting product is similar to that produced by tablet-weaving, although generally not as thick. The warp threads are manipulated by hand on an inkle loom to form the shed through which the shuttle passes.