Starry Night part 2

It's been months since I wrote the last post (even though it was just published today) and while my plans seemed to be going pretty well, disaster struck.

Well, to be clear, disaster had already struck.  I thought the yarn I'd used on the previous project was larger than it actually was, so this lovely blue and silver stuff turned out to be *smaller,* not larger. Which means the 36 epi I'd been planning on using was going to result in much too loose a fabric.  So I re-threaded a smaller reed, winding up with 45 epi, losing several inches in width in the process.  Oh, well.

Also, I made some mistakes in threading the reed, so there were two areas where there were twice as many threads as there should have been, resulting in visible ridges in the fabric. 
Oh, well.

BUT THEN, I moved to a new apartment, and while this loom nominally folds up with the warp on it for storage and travel, being folded resulted in a large group of threads either getting cut or breaking along an edge, leaving me with dozens of threads to repair.  I'd held back some of the original warp yarn for repairs, but not *this* much.  So I'm having to fill in with a different thread, a little darker.  It'll do, I have no choice.

That wasn't the only moving-related problem, though.  Turns out, when there's no tension on the warp, there isn't much to keep the ratchets in play, so the entire warp unwound itself. when I re-wound it, the tension was really uneven along the width.  (I'd done a better job of winding than I did the first time: still learning!)

So.  I cut off all that I'd woven so far.  I took advantage of this chance to fix the reed-threading errors, and re-tied the warp to the cloth beam, and started over.

It's okay.  It was frustrating and annoying, but the resulting fabric is beautiful.  Or it will be, anyway.

Starry Night part 1

While buying replacement wool for my abortive handwoven medieval gown project, I also picked up two cones of this, in Starry Night (a deep blue) and a light variegated grey.

Each cone holds about 3800 yards.
The last thing I wove at 40 ends per inch came out nicely; this yarn is slightly thicker, and if I use my 12 dent reed and thread three ends per dent, I should end up with a nice fabric with 36 ends per inch.

I think I'd have more useful fabric if I weave at 22 or 24 inches wide, SO:

22 inches times 36 ends per inch = 792 ends.
3800 yards divided by 792 = 4.79 yards, maximum warp length, of which about 4 yards will be usable fabric.

So I will wind a 4 yard, 28 inch warp, about 800 ends.  (I think I'm going to do a color-and-weave pattern, so I can't just wind one cone until it runs out, I do actually have to count and keep track.)

I was originally thinking of a pinwheel pattern, because I like them, and because it would fit with the "starry night" theme I think I've got going on.  But I've done it before, and where's the fun in that?

An undulating twill would work well in silver and blue:

This pattern looks fun:

Ah, got it:

It's a regularized, eight-shaft version of a 16th century structure.  

And it is a solid-colored warp, so I can just wind (at slightly under 5 yards long) until I run out of thread.  Yay!

Hood part 3, additional patterning

Now that I have a pattern that works pretty well, I need to do a mockup in a fabric that will behave more like my handwoven fabric will: a light, airy wool crepe, rather than a heavy fulled coating wool.

Also, since I'm using handwoven fabric, I want to be a little more grounded in the research, to make a more historically accurate piece.

Looking through the images linked to here, I noticed a few trends: red was the most common color, but other colors were present (black, brown, blue and yellow).  More stylish hoods had very short skirting, generally not meeting the neckline of the gown.  Many hoods were shown with a white lining, many were shown with no color distinction between the inside and the outside (which may mean it was unlined, and may be the work of a lazy artist).  One in particular seemed to be a pale patterned fabric, lined in green.


My conclusion was that it's just as well my fabric is reddish, and as it's so light that lining seems to be a good idea, it might as well be lined in white. (but if I really wanted to, a silk lining in another color might be acceptable.)

To adjust the pattern for a more accurate cut, I traced my previous pattern onto my fabric, looked at the diagrams of the extant hoods in Textiles and Clothing, and adjusted.  This was the result:

(Sorry, I thought I'd taken an in-process drafting photo, but clearly not.)

When lined, this is the result:

I feel like the turnback is too long, and the back of the neck is kind of baggy.
Taking an inch off the top with a pin makes both issues better.

Only...does anyone else think it suddenly resembles a Cap of Maintenance, being all red with a white lining?  Any pelicans want an open hood?  The liripipe will be extended, you do your own buttons/holes.

Hood part 2: patterning

I have one hood, which was made in a bit of a hurry, and was a re-working of another hood that was just wasn't working, which is why the construction is a little weird:

I mean, really, that gusset at the back of the neck!

 It fits okay open:

 the turn-back is about chin length, which is right, but there isn't really room for my hair in a bun, which pushes the whole hood back a bit (not necessarily a bad thing) and the skirting is too long.  Most of the illustrated examples, the skirting doesn't always reach the neckline of the dress, and this one is wider than my shoulders.

If I were to try to wear it closed, however (assuming I get around to adding buttons and holes), the opening would be too tight.

I thought I'd try the pattern drafted by the lovely Katafalk, as my own hood pattern was questionable.

The first draft turned out rather large.

  I compared it with the other hood, and more or less averaged the two:

 Better, but still not quite right.

 Mostly, there's a TON of room at the back of my head, which I pinned in a bit.

Re-draw the back seamline again:

I tried it on inside out, so that the excess on the inside of that curve didn't screw with the drape too much, just to make sure I hadn't taken out too much. It fit, so I trimmed the seam allowance down to an even 1/2" and turned it right-side out again.

The skirting is still longer than it should be; with this particular mockup, I'm going to leave it that way,  because I'm not fond of that chilly gap between hood and gown, and as this fabric is a nice cashmere/wool blend, this hood will be for warmth.  Also, the transition from hood to liripipe is too gradual, the extant examples (from Textiles and Clothing, and other sources) show a much more abrupt, panhandle shape, more like the gold hood.  I'm leaving the gradual transition, though, too; it fits my hair when it's in a bun on the back of my head, and the purpose of this garment (now that pattern tweaking is done) is to keep me warm in a plausibly medieval way, not strict adherence to authenticity.

Very helpful webpages:
http://larsdatter.com/hoods.htm
http://www.personal.utulsa.edu/~marc-carlson/cloth/hoods.html

Hood part 1: HANDWOVEN FABRIC!

I HAVE A LOOM!!!

CAPSLOCK IS HOW I FEEL INSIDE!!!

Let's back up a little.

Years and years ago, I fell in love with weaving. I owned a loom. At a yard sale, I found a 10-yard warp another weaver had wound and then abandoned from some superfine wool. It was super cheap. It was 800 ends.

I bought the warp, and slayed my reed, intending to weave some garment-quality fabric for reenactment purposes. But that didn’t happen, years pass, I sold my looms but kept the threaded reed with the expectation that I would one day have another loom and weave my epic fabric.

Now I have that loom. I threaded the heddles, all 800 of them, but I really struggled winding the warp onto the beam. It was a disaster. Threads broke. Threads tangled at the heddles. Threads tangled at the reed.

I realized I was frustrated and struggling, and it was time to cut my losses, and the warp.
I still desperately wanted to weave fabric to sew with, and I’ve been planning this fabric from this warp FOREVER but that doesn’t mean it’s worth continuing if it doesn’t bring me joy.
 
So I cut off the tangled mess, and ordered new thread so I can start fresh. But I’d already wound a couple yards on, so I finished tying it on to the cloth beam, so I’d get at least something from this warp I’ve been carrying around for a decade.

 I am *so glad* I did this.  Cutting off the tangled warp kept me from hating the project before it was begun.  Tying on as much warp as I *had* wound on got me the near-instant gratification I was craving.

And the fabric is LOVELY.

And the cat approves.

Once off the loom, I had to weave in the ends of all of the broken and repaired warp threads:

A repaired warp thread: the ends of the old and new strands

Follow the weave with a needle, to create an inch or so of overlap between the two broken ends

Cut the ends off long enough to allow for shrinkage during wet finishing but short enough not to tangle.

The repair, after being washed in warm water, dried, pressed, and ends trimmed.

A little under a yard and a half of fabric, a little over 18" wide.  Not the medieval gown I was hoping to get from that warp, but enough for a hood, which is good enough.