Silly String

Thrums are a normal by-product of weaving. They are the bits and bobs of thread which cannot be woven due to having to pass through the heddles and reed, and are otherwise known as "loom waste." Their length depends on the individual loom. On Daisy, I allow three feet at the back (loom waste at the front of the loom where they are tied on is minimal). That was about the same for Max, but my old loom wanted an allowance of five feet. When you're talking about 250-500 threads, that's a lot of yardage to rest on your conscience as you throw them in the trash (which, I hate to say, a lot of people do). My Scottish soul can't abide that much wastage, so I usually "half-life" my thrums by moving them to the next smaller loom to use as warp, or I allow extra on a project to be sure I have enough to warp a smaller loom. Even so, I still wind up with thrums, and I flatly refuse to put them in the garbage until they've served as many purposes as possible. I've been weaving zanshiori-style towels and runners by tying the thrums together and using them as weft. The knots give a "down home" feel to the finished pieces, but some people don't appreciate the obvious "leftovers" look. I like it, but that's me. As my thrums jar filled up again, I had another thought for utilizing them. Okay, it was going to be a lot of work, but in the end, I'd have something functional. To that end, I have tied them all together and am now engaged in spinning them by the fours, which will later be re-spun into a thick 8-ply yarn to use as weft in rag rugs. I call the end product "Silly String!" And Merry is way more help than I need, grabbing the wiggly strings as they come up from the cones protecting the balls of wound thread from inquiring paws.

Thrums Runner

Day 102: The "seed" of this project was a handful of 6-foot long thrums in light blue and lime green, enough to use (doubled) as warp for slightly more than half the width of the piece. I supplemented the warp with shuttle leftovers and end-of-cone/dye lot remains in lavender and white, and then threw in some darker blue for accents. In the end, I had enough to make either two placemats or one runner using shorter thrums for the weft, zanshiori-style. I opted for a runner or, if push comes to shove, a piece of fabric which could be used to make a shopping bag. The finished dimensions are 34.5" x 12" raw, which will shrink to roughly 30" x 11" after being brutalized in the washer and dryer. The zanshiori style really appeals to my thrifty nature, and while I was working on this piece, I finished up the warp on my floor loom, so now I have another batch of thrums to put on the rigid heddle. I call it "half-lifing," working with leftovers until they're too short to use for anything else.

Zanshiori

Day 92: Anyone who weaves a lot eventually winds up with a collection of thrums, i.e., those long bits of thread referred to as "loom waste." Since I am thrifty and can't bear to throw them away, they go through various stages as I put them to best use. If they're long enough, they go on a rigid heddle loom or an inkle loom as a short warp, or they can be card-woven. If they're short, they get tied together and rolled up in balls until I've accumulated a sufficient amount for a zanshiori project. What's zanshiori? Literally translated, it means "a weaving made from waste thread." That's pretty definitive! Similar in philopsophy to other Japanese "waste not, want not" methods like boro, the idea is to use what you have to make something useful or to extend its usable life. The flaws and imperfections in the resulting pieces add to their character.

I've been using a lot of blues and greens lately, and my thrums jar was getting full. Since Daisy has a bowed midsection in her warp beam, I have to leave the raddle in place after winding on. This means her "loom waste" is about a foot longer than usual. After taking my last project off, I was left with a handful of thrums two yards in length, ideal for making the center section of a runner. I doubled them for visual interest, and flanked them on either side with leftover end-of-cone, end-of-dye-lot bits for stripes, using shorter thrums knotted together as weft. The sticky-uppy knots will fuzz out over repeated washings to become cute, random textural nubbins of personality in the finished piece.

Zanshiori Placemats - Blue

Day 289: I have finally reached the end of my stash of thrums, except for the green ones which I saved out for another project. Although I used thread directly from cones for the doubled warp, the single weft in these placemats is entirely "waste," i.e., the tag ends from other projects after I cut them off the loom. This art of using waste thread to create something functional is called zanshiori, and is not necessarily limited to using the same type of thread throughout a project. Rather, it has an element of zen in it, allowing the weaver to use whatever they have on hand and as the mood strikes them. Many zanshiori pieces are highly textured by using thick yarns with thin, incorporating additional structural elements such as wool locks, strips of cloth, etc., but I chose to use 8/2 cotton exclusively. The tiny knots where I joined the threads adds organic character to the work. In other news, I finished a piece of bandweaving last night, adding the thrums to my stash for the next round of zanshiori somewhere down the line. Waste not, want not! Want waste, want knots!

Rigid Heddle Warp Chicken

Day 288: This is about as close as I ever hope to come while playing warp chicken on a rigid heddle loom. Y'see, when I started this project of zanshiori placemats, I warped for four, adding "a little bit for the Pope" as I always do to be on the safe side. When I got the fourth one finished, it looked like I just might be able to squeeze a fifth one out of the remaining warp. Since I was counting throws (280 per placemat), I could get a pretty clear estimate of where I'd wind up, and...well, if I was 10 throws short, that placemat would be the one I kept, as opposed to those I intended to gift as pairs. As you see, I might have been able to squeeze another ten passes in, but when I took them off the loom and measured them, I discovered I'd over-compensated a bit with the beat. The fifth one has the requisite 280 throws, but it's about half an inch shorter than the others. That will level out somewhat once they're wet-finished, another advantage to counting the number of passes as opposed to measuring the length on the loom.

Zanshiori, Round Two

Day 277: Sometimes an idea works out better than imagined. When I first decided to use thrums to create zanshiori (what I call "something from nothing" projects), I expected to use the finished project to make purely functional and probably not particularly attractive bags. My Scottish genetics won't allow me to throw thrums away unless they're under a foot long, and the gallon jar I keep them in was getting pretty full. I used my 16" rigid heddle loom (12.5 dent) with a natural-coloured warp for the first batch, and liked the effect, although I didn't think it was the best use of the colours. "Maybe they'd be more dramatic if I used a dark warp," I thought, and I pulled out a cocoa-brown cone for the purpose. As before, I doubled the warp threads, but only a single thread for the weft. I am so happy with the way this turned out that I am not going to turn it into bags, no. I'm going to use it as a runner. This piece measures 48" x 11". And as a footnote, I'm still less than halfway through my stash of thrums.

Something From Nothing Projects

Day 253: They say that hindsight is clearer than foresight, and I'm here to tell you just how true that is. In fifty-plus years of weaving, I have thrown away thrums which, had I had the good sense to turn them into something useful by tying them end for end, would have measured in miles and pounds as opposed to yards and ounces. Oh, I managed to half-life quite a few of them, taking three-foot lengths of leftovers from the floor loom and using them for warp on the rigid heddle, but even then, I was discarding enough to make my Scottish conscience grimace. I crocheted some into potholders, used some to tie quilts, but by and large, my stash of thrums was growing faster than I could find ways to employ them. Recently, I discovered zanshiori, the art of making functional cloth from waste thread. I so enjoyed my first project (left) that I immediately warped for a second longer one. And, if the truth be told, I still haven't put a very big dent in the mass of thrums I've accumulated just in the last year or so. I've dubbed the bags I'll make with this cloth "Something From Nothing" projects.

Zanshiori - Weaving Leftovers

Day 249: In weaving, "right" and "wrong" are subjective. As long as the end product pleases the weaver and serves the intended function (even "just because" is a viable function), the Weaving Police should just keep their mouths shut. It's a little different when you're entering a competition. There, you have to abide by certain strictures or you will find yourself subject to criticism. However, the individual weaver is a creative artist, and in no place is that quite so apparent as in zanshiori. The term translates directly from Japanese as "leftover threads" ("zanshi-", i.e., thrums and tag ends of cones/spools) and "weaving" ("ori"), and the most important thing to know about this type of weaving is that there are no rules. In fact, it is the flaws and imperfections which give zanshiori its character. It can be done within guidelines such as the way I am working it here with bits of 8/2 cotton, or it can be entirely random, materials drawn from a basket or box at the weaver's side, using whatever comes to hand. I spent the better part of a week tying together four ounces of thrums in two balls (one mostly browns and black, the other mixed colours), planning to use them as weft in a rigid-heddle project. I had seen a video of zanshiori-made shopping bags, and took one suggestion to heart: double the warp threads so that two pass through each slot and each hole. It made warping a breeze, and for the most part, Merry let me do my work without interfering (well, I did have to tell him "No!" a few times). The dominance of the warp helps blend the weft colour changes visually. Already, I am enjoying the character imparted by the knots as I put into action one of my grandmother's best pieces of advice: Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.