Seeing Double (Two-Tie)

It doesn't look that big...

    I do not do things by halves. My attitude has always been, "go big or go home." This can sometimes get me into trouble (see, "not knowing how to say 'No' "), but it's usually pretty interesting. 

   Right now, it's a big warp. When I say "big," I mean my idea of "big." I ask a lot of weavers how big a "big" warp to them is, and it's around eight to ten yards. Basically, enough to weave 8 kitchen towels. Sorry, but that's not big. My very first warp on a floor loom, way back in the dark ages, was ten yards, and when I was weaving babywraps, my "standard" warp was about 25 yards (the most fabric that would fit in the washing machine for wet-finishing). As I said, this warp is big: 100 yards of snowy white 10/2 cotton.

...until seen from
from the side.

   I put a big warp on because I need towels for the business. Until this week, I was down to my last few kitchen towels, and the holiday shopping season is right around the corner. So, a great big warp is necessary to weave dozens of kitchen towels that will delight customers for the next few months.

   A warp like this is a great excuse for playing with designs, especially if a weaver is lucky enough to have a computerized loom with a lot of shafts. I have 40 to play with, so a tied weave with little blocks is, for me, what Lego is to a youngster--a way to get very creative. One of my favorites is double-two-tie, a 2-end block with the ties on two alternating shafts. Basically, it's like Summer & Winter (properly called "single-two-tie), but the blocks are half the size. After subtracting 2 shafts for the ties, and 2 shafts for the selvedges, I have 36 shafts for drawing pictures. But wait--I have more! Any image that is symmetrical can be created by threading a point twill (/\/\/\), so I can "draw" any image up to 70 blocks wide. I decided to be a bit more conservative, and I limited myself to a 35-shaft point twill.

   I draw out my designs on quadrille (graph) paper before transferring them to the workstation. Some might consider it "old fashioned," but I like working in this way--I can see what I'm doing, and if I change my mind, or refine a design, I can either erase what I've done, or start on a fresh sheet of paper. Once the design is complete, I create a profile draft in the weaving software.

   Once the profile draft is finished, it's pretty easy to turn it into whatever weave structure I'm working with, in this case, double-two-tie. This is how I change a profile draft in the liftplan to weave double-two-tie using weaving software.

• 

  Columns 1 & 2 are selvedges; 3 & 4 are tie ties; 5-39 are
  the pattern shafts

  Step 1: Set up the wif and the threading. In this case, it's a 39-shaft liftplan draft. 1 & 2 are the selvedges; 3 and 4 are the ties; and 5-39 are the "pattern" shafts. Save the wif.
• Step 2: Insert a pick/row between each pick/row of the profile draft in the liftplan.
• Step 3: Move 4 empty columns in the liftplan over to the far left side of the liftplan (shafts 1-4). These will be used for the selvedges and the ties.
• Step 4: On columns 1 and 2, fill in boxes alternately, just as if it was plainweave. These will control the ends that are serving as the faux floating selvedge.
• Step 5: Controlling the ties is what makes this all work, and it's surprisingly compact: just 4 picks.

That's it! 

   So, how crazy can you get with 35 pattern shafts threaded in point twill? Pretty crazy. I'm weaving nine different designs, in various colors. The total is somewhere around ninety 20"x30" kitchen towels, more than enough to last me until the end of the year.

The sampler with all the designs.

Metaphorically Kicked in the Head. Again.

     Hooray, the holidays are over! I actually love the holidays, but after two weeks of non-stop parties and fun (with all the appropriate eating, drinking, and staying up very late), I feel like a need a vacation from my "vacation." The studio is officially closed for another week, but I'm starting to get everything in my moderately well-run household back on track, and doing some design work for warps in 2020.
     My latest obsession is with 17th and 18th century German linen-weaving. This started nearly a year ago, when I stumbled across pdfs of old German weaving books on handweaving.net. (If you aren't already a subscriber, it's $25/year and well worth the money.) I've been interested in historical textiles and weaving drafts for many years, and already had a few American books including

• The Weavers Draft Book and Clothier's Assistant by John Hargrove (1792)
• The Domestic Manufacturer's Assistant and Family Directory in the Arts of Weaving and Dyeing by J. and R. Bronson (1810)
• The Weaver's Assistant, Explaining in a Familiar Manner, the First Principles of the Art of Weaving by Philo Blakeman (1818)

but then I started to look at these earlier books and manuscripts and was entranced. Here were fabric designs for looms that had far more than four or eight shafts. I kept digging around, and now have in my library

• A Book of Patterns for Hand-Weaving: Designs from the John Landes Drawings in the Pennsylvania Museum by Mary Meigs Atwater (n.d.)
• The Speck Book: An 18th Century Weaving Manuscript by Johann Ludwig Speck (1723)
• Nutzliches Weber-Bild Buch by Johann Michael Frickinger (1740)
• Neues Weberbild-und Musterbuch by Johann Michael Kirschbaum (1771)
• The Draught Book by Jeremiah Fielding (1775)
• A German Weaver's Pattern Book by Christian Morath (1784)

and I'm continuing to add to my collection as I run across them. The majority of these are either written or printed in German fraktur, so I can't read them, but I can read most weaving notation, or so I thought.
     I started with the "simple" drafts: point twills known as *hin und weider* ("out and back") that were all tromp as writ. These drafts, often simply a tie-up diagram with a zig-zag line next to it to indicate a point twill, gave textile production shops a real advantage in "custom" cloth production: a loom could be dressed with dozens (or hundreds) of yards of warp in a single threading, then the required cloth woven off as it was needed, after the client/customer "ordered" from a book of pictures of the tie-ups (which look like the designs).
     It wasn't until New Year's Eve that I had time to sit down and read a 1986 article by Patricia Hilts on the development of block patterns that all those weird little threading drafts started to make sense, and I realized just how incredibly sophisticated 18th century German weaving technology was. Included in the article were some of the block drafts I had been puzzling over, along with Hilts' modern redactions done on a TRS-80 computer. It was a "Rosetta Stone" moment: all those lines that look like chicken scratches are actually profile drafts. Very complex profile drafts. That require a lot more shafts than most American weavers have worked with. I thought back to something Rebecca Heil had written in the preface for The Speck Book: "At least one researcher had speculated that damask was the intended structure. Miss Nancy A. Reath, Assistant Curator of Textiles at the Pennsylvania Museum (now the Philadelphia Museum of Art) in the 1930s, was quoted as having 'come to the conclusion that the coverlet weaving was derived from linen damask weaving which, in its turn, was practiced in Germany.' " Damask is a type of satin, which takes 5 shafts. That means one of these drafts, with what appears as 5 shafts in modern notation, is actually a profile draft requiring 25 shafts. This was confirmed by a quote from Frickinger's Nutzliches Weber-Bild Buch that Hilts included in her article:

To work with 35 and 40 shafts will certainly render greater advantage even though this is the highest class of shaft-loom work. Under this classification you will find such that will require thought and will need great effort to weave, but you should not think that they have been set out only to look at or to vex people. They are meant to be woven and are serviceable.... Some people think hat I drive the shaft loom weaving [footwork] too high, but as in any art, I say, let him who will, drive it higher." (Italics mine.)

     In other words, "Go big or go home." I rather like that. My first attempt at GBGH is a gebrochene arbeit draft from A German Weaver's Pattern Book. It looks like a series of squiggles, but is actually a tricky little point twill that produces a beautiful design of circles within circles separated by tiny tables and fine lines of flags. At 250+ ends per repeat when drawn as a 15-shaft damask, the design is meant for very fine threads, but the resulting cloth is probably stunning.

2019, Don't Leave In A Huff...

...just leave.
     It's the last day of 2019, and all I can say is, "Don't let the door hit you on the way out." All in all, it hasn't been an absolutely banner year. I spent far too much time away from the studio, misplaced my artistic drive for months, and have generally felt like I've been slogging through knee-deep mud.
     I know some of it is simply the aftermath of dealing with death, and the knowledge that I can't physically do everything I once, foolishly, could. But a lot of it is, I think, from people behaving badly, particularly online. I've watched group after group turn into nasty nests full of vipers, hissing and lashing out at each other over some perceived slight or another. 2019 may be remembered as "The Year of Butthurt": everything from people getting their knickers in a knot over a bit of history that doesn't jive with their pre-conceived notions, to people discussing what might be received as gifts during the holidays being an insult to those who don't celebrate a particular holiday. You name the topic, somebody is pissed off about it and isn't going to hesitate to announce their affront loudly and often.
     I have gotten things accomplished. I have flax growing in three beds. The front yard is showing signs of being full of daffodils and grape hyacinth in the spring. The never-ending, everlasting warp is off the loom and Bertie is resting quietly until January 8, when I officially go "back to work." And I have a list of weaving resolutions for 2020 that I'm going to accomplish.
     For 2020, I'm using an old teaching strategy: developing "S.M.A.R.T. Goals." S.M.A.R.T. is an acronym meaning Specific, Measurable, Attainable/Achievable, Relevant, and Time-oriented. Once upon a time, we called these "well-written teaching objectives," and I can still write these puppies in my sleep. Today's S.M.A.R.T. goals look a little different, as they don't begin with the words "The learner will...", but they're written specifically for tasks I really need to do in 2020.

• Finish adjusting Bertie for optimal weaving by January 15, 2020.
• Design two "holiday" warps by January 31, 2020.
• Reassemble the HD loom by February 29, 2020.
• Weave off the polychrome crackle warp on MiniMac by March 30, 2020.
• Finish large off-loom piece by April 30, 2020
• Sew one garment out of handwoven cloth by May 30, 2020.
• Weave a wool warp by June 30 2020.
• Weave a flax warp by August 31, 2020.
• Demonstrate mastery of the principles of gebrochene arbeit ("broken work") by designing three warps--including one suitable for eight shafts--by September 30, 2020.
• Complete one unit of OHS program by December 31, 2020.

So there are my goals for things in the studio. Meanwhile, I got a grain mill attachment for my stand mixer, so I'm going to spend time in 2020 baking more unusual breads: I want to see if I can "reverse-engineer" the schwartze bread (black bread) my mother-in-law bought in the Fairfax District of Los Angeles. I also have another recipe for bialys, something unavailable in the Bay Area. I also have a fair amount of sewing, a bit of costuming, and some gardening to do in 2020. I may even squeeze in a bit of travel. I'm trying to spend less time online and more time doing things in Real Life.

     Adios, 2019. Hello, 2020!

Holes: Rabbit and Pot

   As I still can't weave (Thursday morning can't get here fast enough), I've started working on the research and writing requirements for Level 1. It seems that all those years I spent in academia are paying off again: as a academician, I don't read words in directions the way many lay people read them. A great example: the very first task is to "define briefly in sentence for each of the following design terms," followed by a list of seven terms familiar to most art students (shape, form, balance, rhythm, etc.). Most "normal" people would read "define briefly" as "a sentence or two," but not me--if you're lucky, you might get something as short as seven double-spaced pages, defining each term, how that principle of design came into usage, and how it pertains to design in general and the fiber arts in particular. Some people might consider all this writing as pedantic overkill, but I see my job as making it so interesting that the reader doesn't even realize that it's seven double-spaced pages.
   A recent email exchange with the HGA bears this out. While no one is ever unkind enough to say, "this is university-level work, so pull your socks up and get to work," that's exactly what it is. Fortunately, I've spent enough time in university classrooms to not be frightened: instead, I relish the opportunity to sink my teeth (metaphorically speaking) into a big bunch of research, and to craft beautiful sentences that demonstrate that I really know this stuff.
   While how to do the research is a pothole I can avoid, my biggest problem is avoiding the rabbit holes: topics that pull me away from my current task. As part of my research, I've been delving into back issues of the major weaving magazines. This isn't difficult, as I have a lot of magazines and journals: a complete set of Handwoven; a complete set of Jean Scorgie's journal, The Weaver's Craft; about a dozen issues of Madelyn van der Hoogt's magazine, Weaver's; and a good many Shuttle Spindle & Dyepot from the Handweaver's Guild of America. Some of my back issues are now electronic, but a surprising number are original, printed paper copies. I like having the "dead tree" version of weaving magazines. They're like cookbooks--I find it easier to turn pages and look through the physical copy than to scan it on a computer screen.
   Unfortunately, digging through the issues, looking for articles on color theory and how stripes are used as a modular unit, leaves me open to all those articles that have nothing to do with what I'm researching. At first, it seems innocuous: an article on how Ada K. Dietz used algebraic expressions in creating weaving drafts seems to "sorta" go with all the other reading I've done on the mathematics of proportion, the Fibonacci series, and the Golden Ratio. However, before I know it, I'm busy searching online for a copy of the monograph Ms. Dietz published in 1949, and wondering how I can incorporate some of her principles into the next warp I put on the loom. I've fallen down another rabbit hole, and my research lies abandoned until I come to my senses and get back to work.
   I used to rely on the threat of a class deadline to get a piece of research or writing finished--I wrote my senior thesis in the 48 hours before it was due in my professor's office, and got an "A"--but this is not a good way to work, especially on something that doesn't have any real deadlines. Instead, I have to set my own deadlines, then try to meet them. Organizing the requirements into an outline has helped, as I can focus on one part and work just on that until I feel I have enough information, or enough to say, on that part. Once that is done, I can move on to the next part. My only real, external deadline is January 2018, when I submit my formal registration for the COE-W examination. Until then, they are "internal," but no less real deadlines.

Getting Ready to Learn

These are just the weaving, dyeing, and
spinning books; the needlework and
costuming books are in other rooms.

   It's been a busy week, even though I still can't weave: the copies of HGA Certificate of Excellence in Handweaving and HGA Certificate of Excellence in Spinning handbooks (along with a small book on fingerweaving techniques) arrived at my doorstep. I took some time to read each, and decided that, as weaving is my first love, the COE in Handweaving is the next series of challenges learning opportunities in my life as an artist.
   The COE in Handweaving is divided into two parts: the first is a thorough demonstration of one's knowledge and technical skills. Parts 1 and 2 are primarily written explanations of everything from design principles to how various loom shedding mechanisms work, along with a 12-color wheel from either yarn or fabric. For someone like me, all this research and writing is a piece of cake.
   Part 3, the Handweaving Techniques, is the part that will test my weaving skills and take the longest. Part 3 is "forty samples"--that sounds easy until you look at what the word "sample" includes: fifteen of the forty "samples" are actually samplers, containing at least 3 different tie-up and/or treadling changes, and another three are full-on gamps (multiple threadings and treadlings). If each threading, tie-up, or treadling is treated separately, it's really about a hundred samples, all ranging from 7x10 inches (the minimum size) to several yards of finished fabric. Needless to say, it's a lot of work, so I'm planning for all this to be finished and ready for grading in late 2017.
   The second part of the COE (and the part that really makes one a Master Weaver) is the Specialized Study. Simply put, it's a thesis, accompanied by 3 to 5 major pieces (and as many samples as necessary) that demonstrate the aspect of handweaving detailed in the thesis. Fortunately, I've been through a thesis process before, so I know that a bit more time spent on thinking about the question will result in a better product.

I have a lot of resources at my fingertips.

   Along with the handbook, and the paperwork to register, is an extensive bibliography. I started to look through it, and highlighted every book, periodical, or article that I already have. I have a lot of weaving and design books (several hundred at last count), and even more magazines and periodicals. There are, of course, some gaps: types of weaving that haven't piqued my interest (soumak; pile weaves) are not represented, and I have a lot of books in other areas (Navaho rugs; historic drafts) that are probably outside the scope of the COE.
   The next step is to identify which books or articles I can obtain from different library systems. My local public library has a decent collection of fiber arts books (one of the librarians was a fiber artist), and I hold a Los Angeles Public Library card, so anything that is available through them as e-media is accessible. Once I've identified those resources, I can start to focus on what I need to acquire for my studies.

Back to School

   August is here, and the entire world seems to be going back to school, or buying back-to-school stuff, or advertising back-to-school stuff. I spent a lot of time in classrooms--1961 to 2013--and I'm like an old war horse: I hear the siren call of fresh books, new crayons, and pristine notebooks, and I start thinking about school. If I was still in the classroom, I'd be finishing up my own back-to-school shopping, and getting ready for professional development and staff meetings before the controlled insanity that is the traditional school year starts on August 19.
   One of the really nice things about having control of my how I spend my time is that I can finally focus on my own educational goals. I started thinking about who I am, and what I want "to be when I grow up," and I've discovered that some goals have changed in the last twenty-five years.
   I no longer feel the need to go out and get yet another piece of paper from yet another institution of higher learning--I've got a Master of Arts and that's enough. I don't even have my degrees hanging in the studio--I think they're in a box in the attic--because a B.A. in History and a M.A. in Educational Technology simply don't mean that much to me as an artist. I don't feel the need to finish up the units (about 30, or a year of study) to receive a B.A. in Art History or B.F.A. in Printmaking. After this many years, I don't need the discipline of class schedules and deadlines to pursue topics I'm interested in, and there are very few programs that will accept all that I've already done (both as a student and as a professional) and simply let me continue to grow as an artist.
   I toyed with the idea of signing up for one of the weaving classes offered by the City College of San Francisco (CCSF). For those unfamiliar with CCSF, it's the largest community college in California, and one of the very few public institutions that still have Textiles programs. The weaving classes were taught for many years by Peggy Osterkamp, and when I started weaving again, one of my dreams was to study weaving with her. Unfortunately, the classes were always during the day, and during the school year, so I was not able to fulfill that dream before she retired. Janice Sullivan has taken over as the instructor, and she's good, but she's not Peggy. There is also the little matter of cost. CCSF isn't horridly expensive (about $50/unit), but the weekly commute from Vallejo to downtown San Francisco is. I ran the numbers, and it would cost me about $100 to sign up for the two-unit "Weaving I" class, and about $400 to travel back and forth. Personally, I think I'd rather spend the money on more books and/or more stash.
   That leaves "distance learning," either through a formal course of study or on my own. Olds College in Canada offers marvelous certificate programs in weaving and spinning, but they are, to me, horridly expensive: $8,000 (about the cost of the entire program including the residency each year) is a lot of money to someone whose undergraduate college education cost less than that. There's also the issue of traveling to Olds College every June for Fibreweek to complete the residency portion of the coursework--it falls right at a time when I have a number of other commitments.
   So that leaves study on my own. I'm familiar with a lot of the guild-offered certificate programs (Handweavers Guild of America's Certificate of Excellence; Weavers Guild of Boston and Ontario Handweavers Guild's Master Weaver certificates), and, thanks to the miracle of modern computing, have downloaded all the information each has on their programs. I've also ordered the handbooks for the Certificates in Excellence for handspinning and handweaving from HGA.
   Looking at these, I can see how much I know, and where there are gaps: for example, I know how to dress a loom; throw a shuttle; weave a nice piece of cloth; and explain the intricacies of color theory; but I don't understand the "why" behind overshot design, or have some practical experience with rep weaving. These are things I've wanted to learn, or to try, for years, but I haven't had the time to really focus on them. Now I have the time, and I have the equipment, so it's time to head back to "school."