Summer and Winter Colourplay

Day 296: Since Max moved in, he has been assigned a series of long-term projects from coverlets to tablecloths, the last one being my tartan shawl. I decided it was time for him to work on something less demanding, but on the other hand, I didn't want it to be so simple that I got bored with it. When I came across "Summer and Winter Unit Treadlings" on p. 188 in "A Handweaver's Pattern Book" (green version), an idea started percolating in my brain. The blocks are units of 12 warp threads each, so it was easy to break the design for stripes. I used Brassard 8/2 for the warp, and am using a greyer green 8/2 Valley cotton for the tabby throws. The pattern throws are also 8/2 Valley cotton in a darker blue. I wasn't sure how the colours would play with each other where the grey-green crosses the light blue, and was prepared to use a similar blue instead, but I am so taken with this combination that I will probably weave six identical placemats from this warp. Of course, summer-and-winter weave does not give an exact opposite on the reverse, so it will be interesting to see how obvious the difference is when I get to the point that I can see the back side of the fabric on the roller. As experiments go, this one is a smashing success!

Summer Or Winter

Day 278: Which side is up? Front? Back? Which is which? Summer-and-winter weave is wonderfully reversible even though the patterns created by the coloured floats are not exact reversals of each other. One side of the cloth is dark, the other light: summer or winter, your choice. The first of the towels is done in a mere four days of weaving two blocks per day, and I should get six from this warp, although in a moment of mental lapse I forgot to note the length I wound off. Assuming I used the same amount I usually allow for towels, that would have been 18', accommodating space between towels for fringe and the standard loom waste of roughly 4' plus "wiggle room." Better to have too much than too little! Thrums can always be crocheted into potholders, and of course I like to weave a small sample to include my weaving file. The shuttle is still loaded with green, so the next towel will be identical to this one. After that? Well, who knows? I have two shelves full of options.

Winter Side Up

Day 274: And here we go! These first two motifs are shown "winter side up," and are woven on one of my favourite summer-and-winter threadings. "Winter" is the dark side where the floats are more visible. I prefer weaving "winter side up" because it's easier to see treadling errors than on the lighter "summer" side. As I've mentioned before, the two sides are not exact opposites of each other. This is due to the fact that in the weft, the tabby threads separating the coloured pattern threads are the same colour as the warp. However, the pattern which emerges on the back is almost (almost, but not quite!) opposite: light blocks separated by dark bands. When laundered, the fibers plump up and the pattern becomes more pronounced as the long floats expand to conceal the tabby ground.

Summer-and-winter weave was very popular in Colonial America, and as a general rule, linen or cotton was used as the warp and tabby, with a heavier wool thread for the overshot pattern. The technique experienced a return to popularity during the mid-1900s, and I came to love it as a child while nestled under the blue and white coverlet on my bed. I was intrigued by the not-quite-reverse character of the weave. Blankets such as mine were fairly common by then, woven entirely of cotton in the traditional blue or red on a white ground. Mine had a sailboat worked into the design. Today, I prefer to work summer-and-winter with cotton threads of equal weight whether I'm making tea towels like these or a full-sized throw.

Ready To Weave

Day 273: An empty loom is a sad and lonely thing, and cannot be left to mope for long. Mine seldom stands bare for more than a few days, and in this case, I had a measured warp already waiting. Yesterday, I mounted it on the back beam, and had threaded the heddles and half the reed before I turned in for the night. Threading the heddles is the most demanding part of the process, or rather, the one which requires the most mental focus. The warp threads must be loaded in a precise sequence to achieve a particular pattern. Any mistakes will show up as soon as weaving begins. On the other hand, threading the reed is relatively simple. Each thread passes through a slot, following the order in which they come through the heddles, one after another. In other words, the heddles set the pattern and the reed controls the spacing. For these towels, I am using a 15-dent reed, i.e., 15 threads to the inch. The pattern will be my favourite summer-and-winter "plaid," worked with a cream tabby and whatever colour strikes my fancy. With two shelves full of options, this should be fun.

Variations On A Boring Theme

Day 272: The floor loom is finally empty, and I can't recall when it took me longer to get through six towels. Although the weave is summer-and-winter and should have been something I'd enjoy, the fact that there was virtually no way to change it up other than making the pattern areas larger or smaller made it one of the most boring weaving exercises in my long history at the loom. Much (most) summer-and-winter is done on a single-coloured warp with the tabby ground (plain weave) being the same. The pattern threads (floats) are where the fun comes in, creating an almost-but-not-quite-reverse colour scheme on the back side. That's where the name comes from: summer (light) on one side, winter (dark) on the other. While the patterns of these towels do reverse, the yellow never predominates. It's "autumn" on both sides. Switching to a yellow weft made the weave unattractive, so I was stuck using two shuttles of burgundy throughout the whole project. Technically, the weave was summer-and-winter, but it lacked the character which is the main appeal of the pattern. My next project will be "true" summer-and-winter: cream warp and tabby alternating with whatever colour strikes my fancy as I move from one towel to the next. I've had the warp measured for months, waiting in the wings as I struggled, inch by inch, to get this off the loom.

This Side Down

Day 88: Let's try this again, shall we? This is the wrong side of the fabric I photographed from underneath yesterday, and also the top/surface of the weaving from the weaver's perspective. The pattern is less apparent on this side, but you can still see that it has texture. That said, summer-and-winter weave should not be about texture, but about pattern. I could have achieved a very similiar look on a Rose Path draft without the additional effort of managing two shuttles. The design is also somewhat obscured by the fact that both shuttles are wound with the same colour per the instructions. The block design is interesting, but in the final accounting, it simply doesn't have that traditional "not quite reversed" appeal of other summer-and-winter drafts. Perhaps I'll like the bottomside/front better, but so far, I'm unimpressed.

Upside-down Weaving

Day 87: First of all, let me apologize for the quality of the photo. It was taken with the camera sandwiched in between the underside of the weaving and the front apron, and all I could see on the viewscreen was what appeared between warp threads. It's even harder to get your head in there to see if the pattern is coming out the way it should.

To explain further, this was the first time I had used a draft from a new book, and there's always a learning curve when the author has tried to improve on standard notation and falls somewhat short in the clarity of her instructions for reading her method. Add a dash of "operator error" into the mix, and an unbelievable number of ways to go wrong appear in very short order. After picking back an inch of weaving several times because I misunderstood her "repeat" indications, I finally got the pattern to work...upside-down. The writer's treadling is apparently for a sinking-shed loom rather than one with a rising shed, hence the need for me to stand on my head. It has taken me roughly five hours to get two inches of weaving done, and even if I'm not quite happy with this first result, I've learned from the experience and will have four more towels after this one to refine into something gift-worthy.

The Gatorade Method

Day 86: Dressing a loom is best done with a partner whenever possible, but it has been many years since I had a helper available to hold tension on the warp while I wound it onto the back beam, and consequently, I have had to improvise. This technique is what I laughingly refer to as the "Gatorade Method." The warp bundles are tied to yarn loops around the necks of empty G2 bottles partially filled with water for weight. Depending on the fiber, more or less water can be used to maintain uniform tension throughout, reducing the amount for delicate threads which might break under greater stress. The drawback to the system is that it requires re-tying every 18" or so in order to keep the bottles suspended, and that means a lot of up-and-down on creaky old knees. By the time I have six yards of warp wound onto the beam, I will have had my exercise and will be more than ready for the less physical work of threading the heddles and the reed. It's important that you keep your electrolyte balance up when weaving. Drink lots of Gatorade!

Thankful It's Off The Loom

Day 43: For this I am thankful: the summer-and-winter throw is off the loom! I still need to seam the center (by hand, of course, to match the half-motifs), and then tie a lavish fringe using my handy-dandy fringe twister. The finished throw will measure roughly 48" x 66" when shrunk and fulled to expand the fibers. As you can see from the small piece (destined to be a coordinating pillow top), the back is not quite a true reverse of the front...but which is "back" and which is "front" is debatable. The appeal of summer-and-winter is that it is reversible. I used an 8/2 cotton throughout. Summer-and-winter is not easy to weave, but it is worth the effort. Happy Thanksgiving!