At the Homestead

Nothing I love more than a good challenge, especially where looms are concerned. I love returning a loom to operational status, taking it from unused to working again. Recently, I've been challenged to help get the barn frame loom  at the Daniel Boone Homestead functioning again.  I know very little about these great old ladies we call "barn looms" but in my recent research to glean more information, I am starting to learn some valuable pieces of information. For one, these looms are more appropriately called "barn frame looms" because of their construction, not because of the wood coming from a barn (as I had been told) or because they were used in a barn (as I have heard people say...brrr. Can't imagine weaving in a barn!).  

Daniel Boone Homestead's barn frame loom has been sitting unused for almost five years, at their best guess.  It was in decent condition, but dirty.  There was a warp on it, but it was old, filthy and stretched out, so we began our day cutting off the old warp...

...which made the ol' girl just a little bit unhappy. I reassured her she'd be feeling much better once she was clean and re-dressed.  From there we vacuumed up the big chunks of dirt and grime, followed by swiffer floor clothes and swiffer dusters to get into all the nooks and crannies.

2nd layer of dust removed.

Lastly? We filled a bucket with water and oil soap that is designed specifically for cleaning wood. We used barely damp sponges, carefully avoiding any metal parts, to remove any remaining grime.  We all stopped sneezing by this point, stepped back to admire her glory, then congratulated ourselves for a job well-done. The final result was a loom that looked so much better, and so much prettier. 

Removing the last little bits of dust and dirt

That was only the beginning of our day.  We still had to re-dress this beauty, so we used a warp that had been hanging off the loom for display.  Diane, a fellow spinner who had enlisted my help for this project, had taken the older warp home and cleaned it for this purpose. We were a bit challenged with a mystery warp,  but not for long.  After taking a few minutes to count the number of ends in the warp, we had a better idea of what we had to do next. 

we tied up the lease sticks, raddle was removed by this point

In hindsight, if I had known what we were facing when we set out yesterday morning, I would have brought some boards to clamp to the frame, attaching the raddle down to the board.  We took one look at the back of the loom, scratched our heads and said, "Huh, there's only a warp beam, no back beam. Hmmm..." We got creative with some carpet warp and figure out a away to suspend both the lease sticks and the raddle.  It worked, even if it was a bit awkward at times.  After we had the warp beamed, we set out to thread the string heddles.

And of course, after threading heddles, we brought the warp through the reed.

Through the reed.

   Sadly, I was foolish and didn't take any pictures after the warp was tied on.  I became too wrapped up in problem solving, and forgot to pick up two children from after-school activities.  Oops.  Clearly photography was even lower on my list of priorities.
 
   Whenever I am dealing with a loom that hasn't been used in awhile, I find I need to put on a test warp to check all its moving parts. I can do a visual examination and get a good idea of what to fix, or what to adjust, but it's not the same as sitting down and trying to weave. When things don't go smoothly in the weaving process, I know something is off and then I set to problem solving.  I figured this same method would work well for the barn frame loom.  For me, a loom is a loom is a loom, and the mechanics, more or less, are the same.  Sure, each loom has their own 'personality' and sometimes a weaver has to accommodate for that, especially where older looms are concerned.  However, part of my problem solving process is to determine what is a 'quirk' of that particular loom and what can be helped with some minor adjustments.

Through dressing the loom and weaving a little bit, I've already discovered some things that are possibly not quite right. I will most likely need to do some minor adjustments from re-arranging the string heddles, to testing to see if the batten (hanging beater) is put on incorrectly.  It seems odd that I would have to push the batten back a full 6" while stepping on the treadle to make a shed so I can throw the shuttle. And while this is not my first antique counter-balance loom, this is my first barn frame loom, and I'm going to need to do some more research.  Earlier in our day, we had already discovered one part that had been put on incorrectly: the brace that held the built-in bench was attached vertically on one side, but correctly on the opposite side of the frame.  The bench board is completely missing, so we hope to restore this in the near future.   This discovery alone makes me suspicious about the placement of the batten. I have a feeling I'll be doing more research on barn frame looms here in the near future. 

Oh! And by the way, if you see my family passing out fliers with my face on it and the words, "Missing, Reward Offered," you'll know where to find me.  I'm at the Daniel Boone Homestead getting to know a new "old" friend.

Apparently, I Am A Gen-ee-yus (Genius) and didn't know it...

I was very premature in my previous lament about a narrow saddle blanket masquerading as a hand-woven scarf. As I often do, when things are (huff) "already ruuuuined" (sigh) I decided no harm, no foul, might as well throw it in the washer and then the dryer to save myself the time and headache of hand-washing.

I always wash my handwovens. I believe the technical term is "wet finishing" but really, I call it 'washing' because that's what I do. If it's a delicate fiber, I fill up a bucket, or a tub, or a sink with water and soap. If it's hand-dyed, I get out my special-fancy-dancy-for-dying-textiles suds, and then I do a second washing with el-cheapo shampoo. And then I add el-cheapo conditioner to the first rinse. Wool is sheep hair, right? Occasionally, if I want to make something easy-care cotton for the wearer of one my handwovens, I might throw it through the washer and dryer anyway. I want to know my gift can be worn, and abused, and take the punches that comes with living la vida loca.

But this embarrassment to all hand-woven kind was "ruuuu-iiiiiined!" and I no longer cared about it's outcome anyway. Die a long arduous death by heavy duty cycle. See what I care. I was finished, as far as I was concerned, and already plotting how I could cut it up and use it for something else.

Was I yet to be thwarted, again, by this scrap calling itself a scarf? Apparently yes, because it emerged from the dryer, soft, pliable, and lovely, if a bit plagued by static electricity. The fringe might have been standing on end, which might have cause my own hair to stick straight up in a lovely halo of brunette fuzz, but that minor issue was fixable, were I able to control the humidity and weather. Delighted by my own stupidity, er, happy accident, I finished the fringe and determined the scarf worthy to be worn. I showed it to a few people who immediately looked like I lost a few marbles, "What were you talking about? This is lovely."

I'm truly surprised at it's transformation just from taking a whirl in the spin cycle. Now, I'm left to question, what are the chances of my being able to replicate the experiment twice?

In search of a brain...umm, I mean yarn.

I'm sitting here with my mouth on fire, lips tingling from the spicy buffalo wings I just ingested. I figured while I was between wings, I'd quickly jot down a blog post. Allowing sufficient time for the burn to abate might be considered an added incentive, but in truth, I figured it's been awhile since I updated the blog. (Let's blame the weather and the holidays for that, shall we?) Why am I eating spicy buffalo wings at 8:25 pm on a Wednesday evening? Because I just got home from 'some things looming' where I was working in the loom room sampling yarn.

I've been looking for soft, inexpensive but nice, chunky, 2 ply yarn to weave with. Why soft, inexpensive but nice, chunky, 2 ply yarn? Because I want a yarn has a low epi (ends per inch or the amount of lengthwise threads that fit into an inch, for the non-weavers out there). I could go into the reasons why, but for now, that's secondary to the task at hand. It's an uninteresting pursuit, I know, and yet, I sit here and write all about it, anyway. I'd even bet that there's plenty of folks out there who could recommend exactly the yarn I need. (Feel free!)

I usually work with cottons, rayons, linens, silks, copper wire, and blends thereof, that are rather thin, as in fingering weight or thinner, for you knitters out there. Most of my pictoral weavings are made up with various mill ends, and of varying textures. My warp is always perle cotton, sometimes mixed with other things, but mostly, it's just the vehicle for the imagery, so it doesn't have to be luxurious or glamorous, since it hides in the background, merely providing the structure to the cloth. Utilizing tapestry and lace techniques, I alternate transparent areas with opaque. So, apparently, I've gotten rather out of practice when it comes to threading my loom in anything but a straight 1-2-3-4 draw with fuzzy, fluffy yarn. You see, I only need four shafts threaded in the most basic of ways to accomplish my work. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it).

Want to know where to get good mill ends? I could possibly recommend a few places. Want to buy perle cotton in bulk? I have a few sources, some I don't use anymore, yet I could probably tell someone where to look. Soft, inexpensive but nice, chunky, 2 ply yarn? Apparently, I have no clue. Hence my quest.

Detail, Kaliedscopic Daydreams, (c) 2009

melanie ritter mitchell

No stone is going unturned. Along the many paths I've searched, I've found wool yarn that's definitely nice, and uh, well, somewhat thicker, with a recommended epi of 10, so that fits, sort-of. But I'm not yet convinced it's all that soft. I'll work it up tomorrow, wash it and brush it, and see what I've got, but until then, I'm just hoping I'll end up surprised. I've found soft, 2-ply wool yarn, but it's kind of thin, and I'm looking for bulk. The other day while on my hunt, I had a lovely phone conversation with the Master Weaver at Halcyon yarn and learned a few things that 15 years of weaving never taught me, but still no real satisfactory answer. I've even checked out the yarn section of the mega-monster-craft store. Which is what I was working with tonight. Surprisingly it wasn't all that bad, but I completely forgot the rule of sampling before I sample. In other words, I should have made a small swatch, before working it up into full length test-scarf. Good thing it only took me three and a half hours to set up, weave, and cut off the project. I might be more depressed than I already am. I would have needed to add an entire bag of Hershey's chocolate nuggets to my buffalo wing dinner. (Chicken Molé anyone?)


Apparently I'm brain dead, because I know better. And it pains me to admit to such a mistake, out loud, all over the world wide web. But hey, I made a very nice balanced plain weave. Not too much of the weft showing. Not too much of the warp. If I were weaving a saddle blanket, I'd be extremely proud of myself right about now instead of writing a confession to the world. I know what I did wrong. Even understanding my mistake doesn't take the sting from this perfectionist's heart. So tomorrow, I will make sure the brain is fueled up, neurons firing, before I face my loom again. And I will continue my quest for soft, inexpensive but nice, chunky 2 ply yarn, because at this point, it's no longer about the project at hand. It's all about the conquering the quest. Oh and hey, I can feel my lips again. Guess I can go finish my dinner now.

~Melanie