January was spent in creating two replica sashes for the Norwegian Armed Forces Museum. The sashes needed to be a tight weave. I found this was possible only with a loose warp, pushing each row firmly into the previous. Kind of tricky, the secret is to prevent loosening with the next row’s construction. Also tricky was the construction of the tassels, which are made separately, not continuous with the warp threads of the sash. They are a passementerie technique, a narrow band woven, and a supplementary weft that overshoots, and turns back on itself. Also in the deal, I offered to make matching shako cords. The cord is a round 4-strand braid. The fleurettes are ‘plum blossom knots’ that I learned at the DongLim Museum in Seoul, Korea. The fringes are made in the same way as the fringes on the sash. I was very glad to have met up with Joy Boutrup last fall, and her suggestion to purchase Tom Hall’s book on Turks Head Knots. The pineapple knot was the thing to cover the woven band that organising the fringes.
Two sashes and two shako fringes, that’s pretty much my output for the New Year so far.
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My project for this holiday season is a bit of ‘clear out the stash before the new year’. I’ve selected a project that was planned in the Summer of 2012. I had access (thanks to Glenna) to industrial amounts of white sock yarn. Planning a garment of a size to fit me, I measured out rather long hanks (3 ft diameter). Glenna helped me to a rainbow dye job for this yarn. At the beginning of the holiday season, to keep me from overdoing it on the cookie-baking, I set up a warp. I tied a red thread around the centre of the warp to mark the neck opening, more about this later. For this to work properly, you have to use the circular warp technique. This means that the first rows of work are on either side of the centre of the piece. The first rows of work here are the shoulders. Inspired by the work of a Dutch sprang expert, Coby, I decided to double up the threads at the shoulder, switch to single threads below the yoke of the sweater. The secret to being able to push the false weave around is adequate width. I found that long shed sticks, spreading out the warp, moving the threads in sections was the key. Weaving progressed, here I am getting near the finish: the two ends approach. When only 5 inches was left between the two ends of cloth, it was time to cut the threads. I cut them 3 at a time, and tied an overhand knot, pushing the knot up to the cloth, working my way across the warp. Now I have to decide which side is front:
Munich is the home of Dagmar Drinkler, that famous sprang artist, who has sparked the discussion on tight fitting clothing from antiquity, probably sprang. I had the pleasure of speaking with her again this past November. Thanks, Dagmar, for taking the time. On to the Textile Museum in Krefeld. They have an amazing collection of Coptic bonnets, and allowed me close examination. The historic record of sprang patterns is amazing! I’m thinking that these patterns would be lovely as vests, have made up a few samples: But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I attended the VI Conference on Indigenous Textiles at the Quay Branly in Paris at the end of November. This museum is next-door to the Eiffel Tower. OK, the Paris sights are wonderful, but I was focusing on Indigenous Textiles. Yes, sprang was done in the Americas before Columbus. It seems the Paracas were particularly skilled. Before returning home, I stopped by to visit with contemporary sprang artist Edith Meusnier. You have to check out her website: http://www.edithmeusnier.net If you every have a chance to see her installations in person, please do. Photos cannot do justice to her work. Back in Lyon, staying with my friend, I tried to keep up with my daily walk. There are the remains of a Roman amphitheatre near her house. In my spare time I’ve been working on writing out patterns for some of the hundreds of sprang lace motifs that I saw in Brussels. I taught a finger weaving class in TheHague. My host in TheHague pointed out some flocks of birds, all bright green. It seems that escapee parakeets have adopted certain parks in TheHague as home.
Very near Antwerp is the village of Sint-Job-In-‘t-Goor. That’s where I held a class in finger weaving recently. The organiser provided these wooden stands, clamped to the table top to hold the samples. The students were eager, and explored diverse motifs. At the end of the day some of the students had samples of both lightning and chevron patterns. And the chevron, a sample made by a participant that day: The skill of people who worked sprang in earlier times never ceases to amaze me. One detail that Anne Kwaspen and I discussed was the manner in which interlinking is mixed with twining. One would think that the twining threads, travelling a longer distance would require a longer thread. How can this be possible in sprang? The problem has been turning around in my head. At length, I have tried a sample for myself. It seems that if I use different materials, one elastic and one non-elastic, and found it worked for me in this sample. White silk interlinking and elastic lavender wool twining
I’ve been looking at sprang lace in European collections. The Petrie Museum in London had a spectacular bonnet. Today I was at the Royal Museum of History and Art in Brussels. I was honoured to be permitted to examine a collection of sprang samples made between 1798 and 1830, now in the care of this museum. What can I say, these pieces are spectacular! Created using a very fine thread, the patterns are exquisite. I’ve been working to map out the patterns I see, and then creating a small sample, just to be sure I’ve got the mapping correct. I think I’m in heaven. The next day I was allowed a visit to the Musee Royal de lArmée et d’Histoire Militaire. They have a spectacular collection of military sashes. I was also privileged with a visit to sashes in the storage area. It seems that Belgian soldiers wore sprang sashes until the World War I. Some are all S, some all Z. Many bear evidence of both S and Z twist in the sash, small knots on either side of the meeting place between S and Z. OK, so they did not do the bead thing that I do, removing the edge thread. I stand corrected.Many thanks to Dr Marguerite Coppens, Else Bogaerts, Frieda Sorber, and Katia Johansen for making these visits possible for me.
Yes, I’m travelling again. Now a member of the ancient textile society associated with the Textile Museum in Lyon, France, aka CIETA, I decided to attend their biennial conference. The conference coincided with the opening of an amazing exhibit at the museum, Antinoé à la vie, à la mode. The exhibit included almost incredible pieces found in Egypt in the late 1800s, some of it never before on display, quite the celebration of ancient fashion. From a textile perspective it was an amazing view into the time period. Yes, the exhibit included two sprang caps. Tours were part of the conference. I opted for a bus tour to le Puy-en-Velay More amazing textiles on display. From Lyon I went to London. There I had a visit scheduled at the Petrie Museum. I was accorded a visit with two sprang caps. I’ve since mapped out the patterns, and am giving samples to the museum. It is a fascinating piece, combining multiple twist interlinking and another technique where a single thread traverses the open space between vertical lines of interlinking. Later that week I experienced the Alexandra Palace Knit and Stitch Show. How heartwarming to see such crowds interested in textiles. I helped staff the booth belonging to The Braid Society. We managed to teach an awful lot of people how to do fill-the-gap kumihimo. On to Reading for a sprang class at Aldebourne. Aldebourne is a tiny community, but home to a large group of individuals interested in braiding techniques. Imagine the community center in a small village, and on a Sunday afternoon the space is crowded with people and their inkle looms, tablet weaving, and kumihimo. This is where I taught a sprang class. What a pleasure to teach to such apt students. On to the Pitt-Rivers Museum. Page 67 of Sprang Unsprung features the photo of an amazing bag with a design of 5 people, worked in beads. I was privileged with a close examination of this bag, as well as several sashes of Great Lakes interlacing (oblique weave) design.
Presently I’m in Devon. I presented a class in sprang to the Devon Handweavers, another group with a keen eye for structure. It’s always a pleasure to open up the world of sprang for people. Looking through my stash for something else, I came upon a ball of fine singles handspun wool. Just the thing for a Bronze Age – inspired cap. Examining photos I took last Summer of items in collections in Copenhagen, many appeared to be constructed of a very tightly spun singles. Now, I have a theory. A very tightly spun singles might be just the thing for sprang. The amount of twist you add (or remove in the mirror-half) is insignificant with respect the the amount of twist-per-inch in the yarn. It has been my experience that, if I leave a ball of singles set for a year or more, that yarn is no longer fit for plying. It has lost much of it’s need to be plied … and is just fine to use ‘as is’. When I came upon that ball of my attempt at fine spinning, forgotten for over two years, I was delighted, just the thing to explore making a cap. Working with this ball of singles, I realized that my spinning was indeed rather inferior in quality. It was inconsistent in diameter and amount of twist. I held my breath that the thread would hold, no breaks while ‘spranging’. Indeed my yarn did hold. Some of the caps exhibited ‘interlinking’ stitches. Other caps, those that looked much more dense, were constructed with an mix of ‘interlinking’ and ‘interlacing’ stitch. I opted to explore the latter. The finished cap had much diminished tendency to curl. The cap laid flatter than caps I have made using commercial sock yarn.
Once again, hand spun yarn can be superior to commercial yarn. This is how I did it. Inspired by the work of Dagmar Drinkler, I made a pair of sprang pants. Difficulties encountered had me reflecting on how I could do things differently, and this meant making a second pair of pants. The difficulties centered around three major problems: 1) My technique in adding those extra threads at the thigh left me with quite a sniggle-heap on the first pair. I was sure I could manage that addition better. 2) The crotch needed shaping. I had the opportunity to meet Dagmar Drinkler in person and the crotch shaping was one of the points I wanted to discuss with her. She said that she did not do any special shaping for the crotch of the pants she made for the mannequins, left them open a bit at the meeting point . I decided that, despite the amazing stretch that is natural to interlinking sprang, I did need to do some shaping for the pants to fit my shape. 3) I was unsatisfied with the waistband on the first pair, knew I could do better All this in mind, I set up a new warp. Reading in Peter Collingwood’s Techniques of Sprang, I found the perfect way to set up my warp. The meeting of the two ends of the warp happens around that knitting needle, taped to the dowel on the left. This is what I used for the dowel in the middle of Peter Collingwood’s design. The dowel on the right creates a shed for my first row. One thread had gone across the meeting point, instead of around and doubling back. Rather than unwind and re-do this, I added another thread. I then clipped the place of the error and tied two knots. This short-cut worked just fine. Work progressed on the warp nicely. The first few rows formed the ankles, and work progressed up the calf of the pants towards the knee. At about mid-thigh, I measured out another warp of threads exactly the same length of the as the yet-unsprung-warp. I found it was important that this new warp has its own independent suspension system. I’m not always successful at creating a perfectly even warp. This always causes me a bit of trouble over the first few inches of sprang work, until the un-evenness works itself out. This was the case again here. There was a slight unevenness between the two warps, as well as within the new warp. A very tight tension on the new warp when pushing the Z work to the S place helped. It was a couple of inches of work before things settled in. The two warps had been placed one on top of the other, and worked as double-cloth (Collingwood 167-173). The double layer of threads opens the opportunity to a wide variety of color designs. It also allows the piece to widen … a good idea for people whose thighs have a greater circumference than the ankles. You’d think that the double layer, one sitting on top of the other, that there would not be much difference in the width of the cloth, but my experience has it that this addition does widen the cloth considerably, especially when the threads are held together and worked in the same shed. Rather than cutting a finished rectangle of sprang, I dipped into my knitting experience, and decided to create exactly the shape I needed for the pants. I tied off threads to form that shape. How many threads did I tie off? Well, I guessed, based on my sewing experience, trying for the shape in a pair of stretch pants. Threads were cut, and then tied at both S and Z pieces. Getting to the waistline area, I worked to make the back of the pants a bit longer than the front of the pants. This would allow me to form a waistband casing. The knots could be located on the inside of the waistband. Threads were cut a couple at a time, and immediately tied off on right leg and then on left leg, closing in the waistband casing. Now it was time to go back to the very first rows, and pull out the thread that joined the two pieces there. This became the ankles. In interlinking sprang, if you are careful to keep the edge thread at the edge, you can create an invisible seam. Imitate the interlinking stitch with your sewingup thread. I sewed the pants from ankle to crotch. Sewing the crotch required a bit of creativity, keeping the knots to the inside, and trying to imitate the interlinking stitch on the outside … but then, I’m hoping people will not be looking at my crotch too closely.
I’ve created a number of military sashes this summer. The sashes with the colored stripe are wool NCO (non-commissioned officer) sashes, and were typical in the British army in the 1700s and into the early 1800s. The solid colored red sash is silk officer’s sash. And in between, I’ve created several of these coin purses. Made of silk cord, they are modelled after the image in Downer’s book Nelson’s Purse, and hold quite a lot of coin.
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