awayuq

fitting fits

Sunday morning I made a muslin of the polka dot dress, which I now think of as The Red Dress. Thank goodness I did, because I can't get the thing to fit right! Shorten the waist, no problem. Shorten the shoulder straps, no problem. Shorten the back waist even more, ok, easy enough. Fill in the neckline, ahem. Consider it done. The problem is in that area which Archie Goodwin so delicately refers to as the back of my lap. Well, maybe a little higher than that, if you get me. The shapely side seams poke out over my hips to make me look as if I'm wearing saddlebags, while at the same time affording me minimal ease over the b*tt. Hmm. Ordinarily I'd know just what to do, but this dress is complicated by those seductive-on-anyone-but-me semi-circular seams. They don't afford any convenient edges for adding fabric inconspicuously over the rear. And the poky-out side seams are *not* flattering. I re-did the side seams four times. Even slashed and patched the back skirt a bit to see what it would take for me to be able to sit down in the thing with reasonable comfort. I'm stymied for the nonce. There must be a solution, but I have to consider how to approach it. I haven't quite given up, though I realize I could get the desired effect much more simply for my figure with standard princess seams. I'm going to leave it at a low simmer for a while.

(and no, no pictures of me in ill-fitting pinned together skimpy muslin sheaths. no.)

knitting bright

Quick! It’s a gorgeous spring Saturday. Birdsong is audible even in the midst of the city. Windows are flung open. For the first time in months your heavy winter coat is hanging unlamented in the closet. You need wear neither gloves, hat, nor hip waders to venture out unscathed. Your tax return was favorable. What do you do?

a. learn a new knitting technique from a friend
b. buy more yarn
c. buy new music
d. treat yourself to sushi at a place you’ve never been before
e. find a central location and watch what everyone else is doing

My answer: all of the above!

Saturday afternoon I had a great class with Danielle, whom I first met at Knitsmiths. Danielle is a very talented singer and knitter and told me about her method of knitting two socks at once on one circular needle. This sounded fun, so when I saw the notice from Circles that she was teaching a class, I signed up. I must admit I am not a great fan of most fiber classes, having taken so many where I learned so little. I tend to be a self-reliant fiber worker, trusting to books, experimentation, and common sense to get me where I want to go. But I like Danielle a lot and wanted to support her and her friend Donna, besides which it afforded me the excuse to go visit one of the best yarn stores in the area.

Was I ever impressed! I learned so much! Many knitters out there have been doing the magic loop technique for ages but I confess I’d never tried it before. So in the space of two hours, I

--learned how to knit a tube of any size using one circular needle
--learned how to put two tubes onto one circular needle
--learned an awesome invisible cast on, which can be used for sock toes, mitten tips, hat beginnings… and I think would be perfect for the center of oblong lace runners (no grafting at the end!)
--performed a new-to-me short row method
--knit an example sock tinier than I ever would have believed possible, with no fuss! Toe up!
--learned a cool new-to-me cast off for very elastic edges.

What a great class. I came away inspired with lots of new ideas for socks, and tempted to stock up on long tiny circular needles. Plus, I got to talk to Danielle and meet other knitters. And fondle yarns I hadn’t seen before. I succumbed:

Soy silk. I’ve been wanting to try it for a long time, and the warm weather was whispering “tank top… little raglan cap sleeves… summer shell… fun to wear quick to knit something in a favorite color…” so there you have it. What really called to me was the bamboo yarn. It felt luscious! I can’t wait to go back and get some. Must save up. I admire wool but day to day I reach for the cotton, linen, rayon and silk over and over, so I am anxious to see how the soy silk works up. There are rumors in the spinning world that it’s not great to spin, though I’ve done a little and didn’t mind it. This yarn construction is not spun and plied, it appears to be a knitted tape, making a nice change from my usual 6-strand splitting feasts. My gauge swatch is only a couple inches long and I’ll withhold euphoria until after washing and drying, but so far I’m pleased. It might even turn out to be the right gauge to make the polka purl top in Interweave Knits.

Items c, d, and e are true too. It’s been years since I bought any new music CDs so I treated myself to several, including ones by Paolo Pandolfo, Anonymous 4, Victor Jara, and the Kossoy Sisters. Then a leisurely stroll down Newberry Street, drinking in the sunshine, sidestepping dogs, strollers, oblivious teens with cell phones glued to their ears, young women with waistbands so low you could see their thongs, and children newly discovering the joys of ice cream cones. There was not an empty table to be found. Smells of garlic, hot olive oil, and wine drifted on the air. Me, I prefer sushi to Italian any day, so I treated myself to a plateful. When I got home Garrison Keillor’s joke show was playing to round out the day with laughs. In between dabbing tears of laughter from my eyes I virtuously started this:

Part of a project I’ll describe in greater detail a bit later. I’m pleased to see it’s working up quickly, because there is a bit of a deadline. All in all, a perfectly lovely spring day. It’s so nice to have some fun every once in a while.

secrets of stepped corners

Today's textile study was devoted to "stepped corners". These are ornate corners, usually a part of large plain weave cloths, with a jagged diagonal edge like a staircase. Many examples have long since been cut off their parent cloths so it is difficult to know what they were once adorned. The Chancay culture seemed to be particularly fond of this kind of ornamentation. You can see some examples here (cats) and here (birds).

Notice the shape. Sometimes the corner is continuous with the rest of the cloth; it is not too hard too imagine applying tapestry or brocade to the extremities of the piece while weaving the middle plain. But there do exist examples in which the corner appears to have been stitched to the main cloth afterwards-- and remember, peruvian textiles are, by and large, not cut. Which means that they wove a corner with that stepped line, in tapestry or brocade or complementary weft, and then wove a plain weave length with a piece just that shape *missing* from the corner. Presumably with scaffolding?

The warp selvedges are also remarkable. On the above examples, they are tubular; the edge has a corded appearance. On some pieces this is accomplished by weaving the bottom edge, often with an ornate 3-color complementary weft pattern, then turning it under to the back and stitching it. If the design used for the band is diamond-like, it leaves the edge looking almost like a modern ñawi awapa. (These modern manta edgings are made with a crossed warp technique... another example of using very different methods to achieve a similar effect.) However, on some corners, the tubular edge does not appear to be stitched down. One is tempted to believe, after examining both sides, that the warps are continuous. How on earth did they do that?

One possibility is that they made a warp, stretched it, then wove the decorative bottom band somewhere in the middle. They could then fold the warp in half, leaving the band at the bottom edge, and continue weaving on paired warps (paired warps do occur, so this is not far fetched). The cat corner above is surprising because on the other side, there is an entirely different design! The cats are created with supplementary wefts on top of tapestry; the other side is a complementary weft design in 3 or 4 colors. The two layers are separate at the outside edge, but joined by the inner stepped red borders. I was trying to imagine the mind boggling exercise of weaving these complex structures in two layers... a peruvian could do it, I'm sure. But they could also weave the bottom band, then weave each layer separately out from the band. After the ornamented parts were finished, they could bring the two halves together and join them with the red tapestry border. Something to try on your next warp?

The bird corner is notable not only for its lovely design and colors but also for the fact that its two layers are completely separated, even at the warp selvedge. Why? Did two layers give extra weight? Is that what these corners were for, weighting the corners of gauzy cotton cloths? Did they use two layers so that the garment would be reversible? (they could have achieved that in many other ways). Is it significant that the arrangement of colors on each side is different?

An example of a different type is here. I am very curious about this piece, because it uses a technique I don't see that often in Peruvian textiles. It's a cream plain weave ground cloth, very fine, with supplementary wefts. The arrangement of supplementary wefts reminds me of certain ways of treadling summer and winter. They go over 6, under 2, and are evenly staggered so that each weft float is centered over the tie-down of the weft immediately below it. Not all the figures in this piece are the same; there is what appears to be a bird rather than a jaguar in one square near the edge. Otherwise, the layout and design are so regular I'd be tempted to wonder if it were heddled! In fact, I do wonder. Do you suppose the tie-downs were heddle-controlled? Why does the stepped edge on this one appear to bear no relation to the size and shape of the design squares? Is that just a huacero's random divvying up of goods?

The tubular warp edge is a very tempting idea. I suppose you could make a circular warp, weave one narrow band destined to become a warp selvedge, then find the point exactly halfway around the warp from it and weave the second warp selvedge. Then fold the warp into one layer, rearrange the heddles as needed, and complete the piece. (This assumes of course that you'll be weaving from both ends towards somewhere in the middle). This would be an interesting way to weight the edges of a gauze piece. The concept of ornate corners could also be used to advantage even on loom-woven textiles. It would not be an outrageous amount of work to place brocading at the corners of a scarf. Or create a jacket in panels with supplementary weft inlay at the corners. It would be interesting to use the idea of heavy corners with collapse fabrics, perhaps to give swing to the edge of a garment. How many ways can you vary the heft of your fabric within a single piece?

whelmed

Red it is! Thanks all for the votes of confidence. I'll plan on the red dress and we'll see how it turns out. I'll have to come up with an occasion to wear it.

It is a fabulously sunny early spring day here, and my boss is gone! And I so much want to be home doing projects (and ignoring the dust on the floors that shows up when the sun is shining...) Recent conversations with same boss indicate that I may very well have a chance to travel again this summer, starting around the middle of June. Hooray! And also, oh rats. That means I'll only have about four weeks to wear all my lovely summer clothes. I'll just have to change clothes twice a day for the last few weeks in August, so I can give equal opportunity to all the beautiful linens and cottons I am longing to sew up. Traveling also changes the project list somewhat. I'll be staying in many different situations, some hotel-like, some more of the houseguest sort. So for one thing, I'll need a decent bathrobe and pajamas. Put them on the sewing list. Warm but take up hardly any space-- any fabric suggestions? I could also use a comfy wool skirt for the highlands, and a durable dark khaki skirt with lots of pockets. (I find skirts more useful than pants in the field; it is easier to negotiate non-existent bathroom facilities). Last year a Limeña friend of my boss' was generous enough to include me in her hospitality, so some regalitos are in order for her (I was hoping to weave something, linen dishtowels? She's a fantastic cook.) I have a pregnant friend who is due at the end of July; I had planned to knit a little sweater for the newborn but I haven't started yet! A wonderful group of friends is currently working on a communal knitting project, and I need to do my part of that within the next week or so. Last night I did get a little bit of cotton spinning done; I'd like to get that cotton scarf off my loom... it takes so much longer when you spin all the weft yourself. Realistically, though there are hundreds more projects in my head, this is almost enough to keep me busy until I leave. Here's to a productive inspired weekend!

heat.

Yes it's spring, but it started raining again and it's chilly. Fiber work has been on hold for several days while I dealt with a broken furnace. I am so grateful to have heat again! Thank you thank you! I don't mind getting wet but I like being able to dry off.

muslin & siren?

I don't know what is causing the recent bouts of Friday night activity, but I'm not complaining. This week I poked around in the closet and found a length of muslin, and before I went to bed I had a test version of the pants all sewn up and ready to try on. Saturday morning I fit them, made the required adjustments, altered the pattern, and I'm ready to go! There's some green linen weave in the closet that would be lovely for a first pair... and I'll have to find some wacky buttons somewhere. As I was rumaging around on Friday night I decided to put the grey wool flannel skirt and pants I cut out over christmas away into the "on hold" sewing project bin. I've been delaying doing any other sewing, feeling that I should be dutiful and sew up these woolies first... but realistically, am I going to wear grey flannel again this year? Even if it snows? And can I stand sewing it when the sun is shining and the windows are cracked open? No. I'll sew them up in September, in time for the first cold weather.

I also found in the closet a length of *bright* red drapy rayon fabric. Plenty to make the polka dot dress. Is this crazy? Would this dress in red be just too ... too?

golon

In some villages in the Cusco area of Peru, the women wear black wool skirts with brightly patterned borders. The plain weave skirt fabric, bayeta, is woven (usually by men) on simple treadle looms. The borders, however, are handwoven by the women with body tensioned looms, and each one is different.

This golon was collected in August of 2003; I purchased it from a woman selling q'aytu (handspun yarn) and other textiles at the sprawling Saturday market that takes over the section of town across the railroad tracks from the San Pedro market. It has clearly been cut off an old skirt; in places remnants of machine stitching are still visible.

Golones are different from other indigenous textiles in several respects: They are not warp-faced. The wefts are discontinuous. And, significantly, they are woven with multiple heddles. It is very common to see golones made with four heddles, but many of them require more: I've seen golones being woven with 8 and 12, and analyzed some that would take over 20. Most indigenous weaving, such as the mantas (shawls) which are distinctive to each village, are woven warp-faced with various warp patterning techniques created through pick up. The designs are formed by manipulating the warp threads with one's fingers; the loom itself creates only the two sheds of plain weave.

There are no known examples of pre-conquest golones. They appear to be a fairly recent fashion. The fabric structures are fancy twills; twills are not often seen in peruvian textiles. (They do exist but are relatively rare). Because of this, and because of the method of weaving, I suspect that golones were inspired by spanish trims-- galloons--brought over with the conquistadores on ecclesiastical and other fancy garments. Pictures of european dress at the time show similar bands edging gowns.

The colored areas are created with different balls of weft. The concept is similar to tapestry, though the cloth is not weft-faced. The weaver opens a shed and inserts each color in the area where she wants it to appear, linking the colors around each other where they join. You can see a bit of this in the picture where the reverse of the band is shown. Weaving wrong side up facilitates the joins. The colored areas usually follow the structural lines of the twill to create interlocking shapes. This is a twist on the typical Andean structure-creates-pattern philosophy: the structure is apparent in the pattern, but the most obvious design is created by the change of colors.

These skirt borders are actively evolving in the present day, and different areas have distinct styles. Golones can be embellished with beads. Intricate examples executed with fine threads are definitely appreciated by fellow weavers. Sometimes the women wear several skirts, each with its own golon. When they sit on the ground (as they often do) you can glimpse two or three layers of these beautiful bands close together. They vary in width; most I have seen are 3-5 inches wide, but I saw one in Ollantaytambo which was at least 18 inches! The woman wearing it said she was from Huilloc. (note to self: get back to Huilloc someday and see if there are more like this...)

Golones are some of my favorite textiles. They offer an example of indigenous mind meeting western technology; they are a marker of personal identity and accomplishment; and their creation offers many intriguing problems to the maker.

burda update

On the wings of Friday night inspiration, I managed to trace off patterns for the waistcoat blouse, the high-collared waistcoat, the polka dot dress, and The Pants. I love playing with patterns. Today I'm wearing a pair of pants I made from a Burda pattern, and I like them very much, so I can't wait to get a muslin mocked up for this pair.

puny progress

Spring feels long in coming, but I offer this as evidence that I *am* trying to participate in the spring fling. Really. I've done a lot of work on the Orenburg shawl, but in its current state it doesn't photograph well. Here's the blasted ruffle...

The green part will be lacy when blocked. Really.

And the green yarn which turned out to be too large for this sweater may be just perfect for one in Vogue Knitting... Dava is planning to make this one too, I'll bet she gets to it long before I will!

image collection

As I get more proficient with my digital camera and the sunlight increases, I'll be adding more pictures to the textile album. Check back from time to time... this morning I put up some pictures of one of my favorite ponchos.