Beaded Tatting

Day 364: I'm on a tatting jag again. I think my love of this form of needlework dates back to early childhood when I was first learning that you could do things with string. My grandmother had started me on embroidery when I was only three or four, moving on to crochet and knitting before I started kindergarten. If I had no tool handy and found a stray piece of string or thread, whether it was caught on my clothing or picked up from the ground, I would almost always begin tying it in knots. When I reached the end, I'd start knotting the knotted strand until finally, I had a compact knot of knots which I could drop in the trash. It seemed to me even then that something useful should have come from all that knotting, but it wasn't until I reached adulthood and began one of my first jobs as an art-needlework consultant that I learned how to tat using a shuttle. Only in the last few years have I discovered needle-tatting and find it much easier and faster. Adding single beads to a piece of work is a breeze using the needle. Simply string your beads on the ball thread and slide each one into place when it comes time to have it appear in the pattern. Here, I have taken a "snowflake" motif and have replaced most of the picots not used for joining with beads. These "mini-doilies" go in my lace box for use as thank-yous and small gifts.

Learning A New Technique

Day 338: There I was, going blithely along after having tatted several split-ring snowflakes, and suddenly the eye of my needle was on the wrong side of the work, preventing me from drawing the next ring closed in a manner which left the working thread in the proper position. My first thought was that I had read the pattern incorrectly, but no, I'd followed the arrows, worked the sections in the proper order, but my needle was definitely backwards. Then I realized something: although I've needle-tatted "throw-out rings" (TORs) on chain sections, I had never orphaned a ring off another ring. My pattern was written for shuttle tatters, but theoretically, everything you can achieve with a shuttle should also be able to be done with a needle even though it may require different steps. Thinking that was the issue, I pulled the work apart and started over. After several hours of frustration, I was almost resigned to having to form one ring as a series of chains which would have left it more angular than the rest, but I was still sure there had to be a way. After dragging out several other tatting books, I found the answer: use a second needle for the TORs. Live and learn, they say, and I consider a day wasted when I don't learn at least one new thing, although I usually like to know that I'm entering the classroom before I get partway into a project.

International Tatting Day

Day 171: Who would have thought that there was such a thing as "International Tatting Day?" I didn't know it until I called to order more materials from my favourite supplier and was told that in honour of the day, I would receive a free ball of thread for every four I selected. Since I already had seven balls on my list, the offer was a no-brainer. Known also as "frivolite" in French and "chiacchierino" in Italian (the two countries famed for their development and execution of the art), tatting looks complicated but in fact is nothing more than a series of rings and chains made up of clove hitches or half hitches made over a core thread. It can be made with a shuttle or with a special needle. It can be very delicate when made with 80-weight thread or finer, or it can resemble macramé if done with heavy cord. Its lacy appearance is influenced by picots (loops of a single thread) placed between the knots. Surprisingly versatile in the manner in which its elements can be joined and combined, tatting is less popular among needleworkers than crochet or knitting, yet it is easy to learn and very portable. I am happy to say it seems to be experiencing a resurgence of interest, as evidenced by the fact that in the late 1990s, it was accorded its own international day, April 1.

Green Ice Cluny Doily

Day 123: A little over a week has passed since I submitted my first entry into a tatting/crochet contest and in the interim, I've been hard at work developing a second pattern which includes cluny leaves. Cluny tatting is not well-known even among experienced tatters, and purists sometimes argue that it doesn't really qualify as "tatting" because the leaves are woven rather than being formed with a series of half-hitches over a core thread. They argue, yes, but there is sufficient evidence of the art historically that their protests can be dismissed with the same wave of the hand which would dispel any dispute that a piece was not "crocheted" if it included a length of ribbon laced into the work, or that a sweater was not "knit" if it was finished with a crocheted edging. Cluny leaves are worked with the same threads used to make the rings and chains; they are not made separately or sewn in. They are most often found in pairs as they are in this design, but single leaves may be included where travel of the thread allows. This doily was made with a #7 needle and size 20 thread. It measures 7" in diameter.

Tricks Of The Trade

Day 97: My grandmother was an expert needlewoman and taught me almost everything I know, "almost" being a qualifier. Gma did not tat, nor did anyone else in my immediate family, so when I took a job as an art-needlework consultant at the ripe old age of 18, I was determined to remedy this lack of knowledge. One of my co-workers was a practitioner of the art and agreed to teach me to tat with a shuttle, and for years, that was how I did my tatting. Now I needle-tat, a quicker process by far, but that's not the subject of this discussion.

My husband's maternal grandmother, like many of the women of her generation, was also skilled in a number of needleart techniques. She and I hit it off from Day One because of our common interests. She taught me a valuable and simple way to keep my picots even (picots..."pee-koes"...are the little loops made by a single thread along the edges of a ring or chain). Today, you can buy "picot gauges" in a variety of types, but Grandma Agnes' method costs nothing (or next to nothing). Simply make a mark on your finger with indelible ink showing the length of thread (use a ruler) to be left between double stitches where a picot occurs. It will wash off or wear off in time, so make a note of the measurement so you can reapply it at need.

Doing Nothing

Day 90: Seriously, I have tried to do nothing. I think the longest I've been able to sustain the state was roughly 43 seconds before I fidgeted off and picked up some kind of hand-work or went out to pull weeds or take a walk. That said, occasionally I need some type of "brainless project" as a break from my usual level of activity, especially when I've been housebound for any length of time. We are currently under threat of Snowmageddon, although flakes certainly don't seem to be materializing. However, I have recorded 4.70" of rain thus far for January, and that's just not the kind of weather you can go lichen-hunting in. My disposition is foul, my temper is short, my attention span even shorter, so I needed something I could work on in fifteen-second spurts. Tatting! It's easy to lay down, easy to pick up. I prefer needle-tatting to using a shuttle, but this frequently necessitates adjusting patterns to accommodate the different technique. After a few false starts, I had all the kinks (figurative and literal) worked out of an edging and am now on the fourth iteration of one which will be applied to sachets. As for doing nothing, I say, "Not for me, nothing doing!"

Redefining "Vintage"

Day 173: The word "vintage" has no precise definition when it comes to the age of an item, although it's generally considered to be somewhat newer than "antique." That said, I have started work on a thoroughly modern "vintage" tablecloth, and if that phrase seems confusing, a word of explanation is in order. You see, the 24 balls of ecru DMC #20 crochet thread in this photo were bought by my mother before I was born. She intended to crochet a pineapple-design tablecloth, but somehow just never managed to get that elusive "round tuit" which is notorious for its accumulation of unfinished crafts. That said, I've kept the thread all these years, hoping to eventually find the ideal project for it. It's in perfect condition and, I must add, of a significantly better quality than the threads available in today's market. The twist is firmer, the cotton fibers are sleek and shiny (Egyptian, undoubtedly), and the colour is warmer than the dingy, drab "ecru" found in stores today.

I wasn't inclined toward crocheting a pineapple design, but as I've been enjoying the relative speed of needle-tatting, an idea was sorting itself out in the back of my mind. Why not tat a tablecloth? I figured that something modular would be the best way to go because of the latitude it allows in finished size, but I was dissatisfied with any of the tatted motifs in my library of patterns. Thus, over the last several days, I've been developing a pattern of my own. I wanted to incorporate a round element in the design, and did so by making a series of rings in the center. Corners are created in the second row, and the third brings them out to points. The prototype 3-inch square is shown on the right, made with some leftover white thread. The squares go fairly quickly, an hour or so for each one. They'll be joined at the corner points and at each center picot of the outside chain. How big will the finished tablecoth be? Will it be square or rectangular? I don't know. That's the nice thing about modular work. You can quit when you get tired of the project.

Exhibit A

Day 167: By the time I'd made a dozen of the rosette motifs which form the wide border of this 9" doily, I had memorized the pattern and was having trouble motivating myself to complete one each day. Made with size 40 cotton, this needle-tatted lace will be one of my submissions to the Washington State Fair this year. Last year, I entered two weavings and a handkerchief edged with bobbin lace, and took one first prize and two second prizes. I'll be changing up the types of needlework this time around, at the very least subbing in tatting and hardanger, although I may also include one woven piece as my "signature" item. Last year was the first time I'd entered the Fair, and hindsight being so much sharper than foresight, I now regret not listening to my husband as he encouraged me to submit something, anything to demonstrate my skills. I'd walked through the exhibits, mentally comparing my work to those of the long-time competitors and figured that nothing I'd made would make it out of the starting gate. When I saw the award ribbons next to those first submissions, my first thought was of Bruce. I wish he could have shared in my delight. And just as a personal footnote here, it was Bruce's grandma who helped me perfect my tatting technique. I was thinking of her while I was making this doily, remembering how she used to put a mark on her finger with indelible ink as a guide for the length of her picots. I didn't go quite that far, although I used a gauge for the chains in this piece.

Play It Again, Sam

Day 137: "Play it again, Sam." I'm currently on my fourth iteration of this tatted doily, trying to find exactly the right combination of thread size and tension for entry in the Washington State Fair. I've finally settled on using an extra-fine needle and #40 crochet cotton (in progress above). The larger version in the image used #50, but the finished product feels a little too flimsy for a doily. Lace-weight crochet cotton is hard to find these days, fine work being dismissed by those who want the instant gratification which the heavier threads allow. On my personal scale, #20 qualifies as "huge" and I refer to #10 as "ship's hawser," to be avoided for anything other than pot-scrubbers and dishrags. Lace by its very definition should be as delicate and light as its intended service will allow.

More Than One Way To Skein A Tat

Day 117: A little over two weeks ago, I showed you how to transfer the knot in shuttle tatting. Since most people think of tatting as being made with a shuttle and the transfer is where the most common error occurs, I thought it was a valuable lesson. Today I'd like to demonstrate an alternate method for producing those rings and chains. In other words, there's more than one way to skein a tat! I'm referring to needle-tatting

Faster, more consistent, almost foolproof, needle-tatting differs from shuttle tatting primarily in the fact that double-stitches and picots, whether in rings or chains, are almost always made with the ball thread. The thread which runs from the needle only provides the core for the knots. In the photo, you'll see a standard shuttle with a ring just made. Just to the left of the ring, you can see a chain in progress on a tatting needle. Some of the picots have been left open so that you can see how a length of thread is left unknotted in order to leave a small loop (the picot). When a sufficient number of stitches has been made, the needle is drawn through and the work is snugged up. An overhand knot is placed at the end of the chain to hold it in place, and then the work is continued, making the next stitches as the pattern requires.

Yes, you, in the back of the room, you have a question? "Why, if needle-tatting is faster, idiot-proof and more uniform, isn't it the preferred way to tat?" I'm glad you asked.

Because needle-tatting stitches are formed over a needle of a given diameter, the knots do not snug down as tightly against the core thread as they do in shuttle-tatting. This makes the work somewhat less stable, particularly when picots are being formed. The knots on either side of the single-strand picot tend to seek a balance, gradually working loose and causing the picot to disappear after several washings. To prevent this, when I close a ring or draw up a chain, I tug each picot a little tighter with a needle or my fingers to help stabilize it. It's rather a pain in the neck, but as a trade-off for being able to complete a doily in just a few days, I actually prefer to tat with a needle.