Friday, December 20, 2019

A stitch in time, or maybe a little late

One of the first rules written in historic texts on mending is to reinforce thin or weak spots before they form holes. This is useful advice, it is far easier to patch or reinforce a thin spot than it is to patch a hole or tear. But there are times when 'fashion'  or convention dictate that something not be mended. I once worked with a women who's partner was a painter, and the first thing they did with new coveralls was mess them up. To appear in pristine new white coveralls, with no paint stains was just not done. Denim is one of those fabrics which has more 'value' when worn in, when a little worn or roughed up or faded. Manufacturers and Designers (not always the same thing) go out of their way to distress or 'pre-wear' denim, so it doesn't look so new, so unworn. This is something that increasingly makes me uncomfortable - distressing, bleaching, sanding, or ripping denim to look 'cool' shortens its life by years and years.
One of my oldest clothing items is a denim jacket, made in New Zealand by Workshop, it looks the same the the one they still sell. I bought it before there were children I my life, way back nearly 30 years ago, at the time it was expensive and a special purchase. It was slightly distressed (something I would avoid now as it shortens the life of garments), and I  have always loved the fit, the long sleeves and the narrow body.
But the problem with long sleeves is the same as the problem with long jeans or trousers - the hem wears out first. At first I didn't mind, I kind of liked the 'this old thing' vibe of the ragged sleeve hems. I wore it with pride, imagining that the wear was kind of a symbol of a favourite jacket and of a slight disregard for conventions around clothing having to be new. As the frayed edge threads got longer and longer, and people started ask if I should trim them, and I realised that while a worn jacket might be 'cute' or 'street' it wasn't very practical, I started to catch the threads on door knobs and other edges.


It was time to repair my favourite denim jacket, my only denim jacket. First I trimmed away all the loose threads. This was good as trimming revealed the work that needed to be done. The edge had worn away and the inner and outer cuff were now separate layers. I realised the long threads were the threads that ran around the edge of the cuff -- as the edge warp threads wore away the horizontal weft threads had nothing to hold them in place.


There are traditions of mending all around the world. In my 'work' world I research mending and repair of textiles in New Zealand Museums. My focus period is 1870's to 1950's - kind of arbitrary dates based on when needlework including mending was included in the New Zealand school curriculum. I pair this with research that looks at text books published at the same time - and look at instructions for mending. One of the universal methods is a running stitch mend - it appears in all the books, and is the one I see most in mended textiles in collections. The second most frequent is a patch.  This method is the one that has become popular as people look at and emulate Boro textile repair. The darning samplers I have seen in New Zealand museums usually have the repairs worked in contrast threads, this is so who ever is viewing the sampler can clearly see how the repair was worked. This was twofold, so the teacher and examiners could assess the work-pesonship, and so the owner could use the sampler to remind them how to complete a repair.



I used Japanese Sashiko thread, from Minerva(in Wellington), to reinforce and stitch the cuffs. They don't list it on their website but if you phone them they will happily ship to you. The thread comes in several colours, but I choose to use a soft natural white. It also comes in at least two weights - I went for the finer thread. I could have used machine sewing thread and if I had the stitching would have been less visible. I could have used embroidery thread - but it would have had less twist than the Japanese repair thread.

 The first cuff - I just used the thread to reinforce the edge, the second cuff I added in a layer of folded cotton to even up the edge. This was the right sleeve and was more worn than the left (I'm right handed). Adding the layer of folded fabric between the two cuff layers - meant I had to work the horizontal stitches first.



How did looking at mending samplers in museums and vintage books inform me? Well I knew that the thread had to be kept soft, and not pulled too tight. If I pulled the mending threads too tight the work would become stiff. Keeping the stitches 'soft' allowed the fabric to retain its soft flexible fabric qualities.







The finished cuffs look mended, but that is ok, the jacket is 30 years old, it looks far more used and worn than any new garment would. Replacing the cuffs would have taken much more work and looked odd with the vintage fabric of the jacket.









The final cuffs are mended, and I can't wait to wash the jacket so the threads blend into the fabric more. Except my learning about sustainble fashion and the 'cost of fashion' informs me that laundry is one of the major ways to wear out textiles - we have been encouraged to over clean and wash our textiles far more than they need to be. There is some evidence that 80% of the environmental cost of a garment lies with a consumer - in the laundry  practices they use. I discuss this with my students - that as designers they may only be able to make decisions that affect 20% of the environmental cost of a garment. There is quite a bit of noise around how 'Fashion' is unsustainable - and most of it points fingers at manufacturers and designers - very little highlights the role customers have in caring for their garments. I will wash this jacket - when it is dirty, too dirty for a brush or an airing to deal with.  I did use my iron to steam the mend - knowing that the thread and fabric would puff up and relax and just look a bit more integrated.

Na Stella

Friday, November 22, 2019

Towards the end

I can't believe it is November 2019 already, I began this year with the intention of doing more blogging, of returning to the weekly or even bi-weekly posting to this blog as I used to do. It has been a busy year, with lots on - and my aims remain just that, aims. That said there are a few updates, things that are blog worthy. I have a new pattern out, and I'm weaving a little more, and I have some writing published in a book by Te Papa Press.

The Art and Science project I was working on back in August was finished, and exhibited and is now a pattern uploaded to Ravelry.
 The Exhibition catalogue is here, and contains images of the works in the exhibition. The image I used was a progress image, a developmental image. At the time the catalogue went into pre-print set up I just hadn't enough of the final project completed to use it in the catalogue.  The pattern is here, and sets out the background to the project. I collaborated with Prof Craig Marshall, of the University of Otago. Craigs interest was in the way biological matter changes the structure and formation of ice. I went with the term Dirty Ice - but its more complex than that, its about scale and structure and repetition - and I tried to capture those ideas in a modified lace.


The final pattern is for a double layer lace cowl, the lace shifts from a larger triangular structure that repeats over six stitches into a medium lace structure that repeats over four stitches,  to an even tighter version that repeats over four stitches. The goal was to transition - and I found a solution that used both fewer stitches (so a closer spacing) and also different sized holes. Some used double yarn overs to create four stitches, others used double yarn overs to create two stitches, and the lasts used a single yarn over to create two stitches. The transitions  need to be fluid - I couldn't just switch between the two laces - I needed to find a way to merge them together over so they blended and morphed the way the structure of ice did. The lace also had to be triangular - as I learned ice was. It felt like breaking the rules - but also like I was beginning to understand this lace knitting just a little bit more. What was really exciting was the number of comments on the pattern - and that within the first few months several projects have appeared. In my other world, my work world, I write my research up into papers, and publish them. One of the ways we 'measure' the success of our publications, is in citations - how many times other people use 'our' work in their work. I'd like to think that having a pattern worked by another knitter is a little bit like being cited. And in a follow up I have signed up to take part in 2020 - meaning the opportunity for another collaborative project.

I'v  also been weaving, this is the latest batch of dish towels on the loom, a 12/2 cotton, in a colour called Pompeii Dust, alongside a black and dark blue. This was a challenging set up, finer than anything I have woven before except for that really fine 22/2 cotton sampler I mistakenly set up in 2014. At that stage I was brand new to weaving and didn't want to weave the kinds of thick home made chunky weaving that weavers seemed to do. I wanted to weave finer cloth. What I learned at the time was that weaving fine cloth is fun, and pretty impressive but involves lots of fiddly work to set up. Mistakes rather than being invisible are harder to find and trickier to fix. That little adventure taught me to approach fine weaving slowly. I have now made a few things in 10/2 and 8/2 cotton, and this is my first 12/2 cotton. Finer means more threads per inch, and so more chances to make mistakes and so more to potentially need to fix. The fabric that curves over the breast beam was woven by a visiting student - someone who has invested in his own loom - I invited him up to see how a floor loom worked - to motive him to put his together. His is second hand will need some assembly and set up.

This is probably my big news this week - something I wrote is in a book, a book on New Zealand Crafting. A few years back Damion Skinner held a series of workshops around New Zealand - inviting people to workshop and discus  what craft was, what craft meant and what craft could be. We were asked to develop a definition of Craft that worked for makers, for owners, for curators and for theorists - it was hard. The workshops were funded by Creative New Zealand.  Following the workshops people were asked to contribute to a book to be published.





The article is short, but hopefully clear to people who want to read about craft and craft education. One of the areas I research is how people were taught about mending. I was curious why people were not teaching mending any more - and I know it is tied up in the rise of consumer culture and of mass production. I suspect that decades of teaching mending as a virtue beget a culture that wanted to avoid mending at all costs, That never having to mend again was the very real outcome of making young people learn how to mend and telling them it was their 'lot in life'. Those children who had learned to mend at school were then exposed to a huge amount of marketing of consumer goods, including textiles. To see if my ideas were right meant a wee bit of work, looking at legislation, looking at samplers in museums, and looking at articles on teaching and learning needlework. Some of the content is available digitally - here. This year the work has progressed a little more with a visit to the Auckland War Memorial Museum, and a planned visit to Te Papa in a few weeks. Those visits were to capture data on mends done to domestic textiles in the 20th Century. At some point I think I may have to work my own mending sampler ...

So that is that, well nearly, I may have another loom and I might be in the process of doing some other weaving. More next week (promise).

na Stella

Sunday, August 25, 2019

There has been knitting, and there has been frogging

Yes, frogging, and mending, and knitting. There is even more weaving being set up. Truth be told, there is more knitting since the last blog post than a single post can cover - so today its just highlights and onward.
My AfterParty sweater is done, all finished, and was in time for the Christchurch Mid Winter Wool Feast in June. I do like this very much, the body is boxy, wide, and the sleeves narrow - it is one garment that receives multiple comments every time I wear it. Several people call it 'cute' which is kind of nice given I am now in my 50's and cute seems to belong to a distant past.  I would very much knit another of these. Maybe in some yarn that is more local?
 And with one sweater done, another was began. This time in lace-weight 2 ply yarn. Ad again a direct copy of one knit by someone who's style I admire, Julia, hers is in orange - mine in grey. I am Knitting BlueBell, Published by Jamieson & Smith, in their yarn. The pattern, and Julia, have this sweater knit in flat, but I have converted this to be knit in the round. I am playing fast and loose with gauge - no gauge swatch and I think is is knitting to size - when I hold it against me it feels ok - if not maybe smaller cub who is nearly my height but finer built might get it. The only tricky part has been centering the pattern repeats on the yoke, between the raglan lines. After a bit of thinking and a few false starts I simply counted the stitches - subtracted  as many stitches as I could for complete pattern repeats as I could and divided the remaining stitch count by 2 - placing half evenly on each side of the pattern repeats. I have worked those edges in checker board or part pattern repeats - depending on what feels best. Checker board if only a few stitches, part pattern repeats if nearly an entire repeat.
I am loving the yarn in the yoke colourwork, it is a soft pale blue green - with hints of pink and purple.
There has also been mending - next to the red darn, is the word Fix - in gold. These are commercial socks, pure merino. And they are soft and warm and fit nicely inside boots that hand knit socks are too bulky to fit into. But - 100% Merino is pretty fragile, and these are wearing thin in the wear spots, toe tips and the one on the top that caught on something. Occasionally it is nice to be reminded of the easy care and durable materials we have available to us.
And the last project is an Art Project, destined to be part of the Art and Science exhbition. A lace cowl designed in collaboration with a biochemist at the University of Otago. the lace is based on the lace used in Caparison by Vintage Purls, but morphs as it travels up the cowl to mimic the way contaminants in ice affect the crystal formation. Working how how to replicate that visually in hand knitted lace has challenged me and made me think about lace and repeats and stitch counts and transitions.
 There was much swatching, initially I thought the lace could be knitted in a long colour run yarn. The shift in colours was to signal a change in lace pattern - and there was much swatching and testing to see how that could work. What I didn't think through was how a singles yarn would bias as it was knitted making the swatch twist. That was a cool effect but not quite right for this project.
 After that I switched to using a plied yarn, and worked the developing laces a little more - playing with how many rows between the lace pattern rows,  how much to offset and how to seamlessly repeat these around a tube for a cowl.
And the mini tube - biased lace - I do like this version, its far more organic but not quite right for this project.

na Stella

Sunday, May 26, 2019

Those people, who came before and were weavers, they were clever.

The weavers who came before me, they were clever. They worked out ways to do things that work. Some times, those of us who come later, who come late to doing things, the next generation or the later generations think we understand - but usually then find that the ways of the 'old people' work better than we expect. Today I have an update on weaving - still not weaving, and on knitting, which is actually knitting.
 First up is the knitting, I have reached that moment in bottom up knitting where the sleeves are introduced to the body. Knitting in the round has lots of benefits, like being able to try it as it is  knit, no seams to sew, and for some patterns being able to mindlessly knit around and around instead of working back wards and forwards.
There are also some awkward moments with knitting in the round. Just after adding the sleeves to the body - there is a weird awkward stage where the top of the sleeves are constrained by the shortness of the underarm section - it really takes knitting for 2-3 cm's  with a variation of magic loop before true knitting in the round can be done. The fun part of this is about to start - working a full yoke in colour work. Unfortunately I have another project that needs attention, so this will proceed slowly almost as a treat for working on the 'things that have a deadline'.
 And the weaving, well I warped front to back,  so sleyed the reed/beater first. The instructions generally are to 'rough sley' - in an approximation of the final distribution across the reed. Usually in a pattern of paired yarns - and then thread the heddles, then re-slay the reed with the final distribution. I say distributions as there is seldom one thread in each slot of the reed - usually there is a distribution pattern like 2/2/3 threads in the reed slots.  This sleying twice eemed like an unnecessary step so I sleyed with the final distribution - in my case 2/3 in a 12 dent reed for a final sett of 30 epi.
I transferred the cross to behind the reed and threaded the heddles. Then tied the warp to the back beam and wound it on. Then I tied the warp to the front beam. And tested the treddles - and found several - well more than several threads were twisted at the reed. It happens, well with 600 threads and several operations it is likely that  some might jump over their neighbors as the threading is worked. I spent a good 10-15 minutes sorting the threads in the first inch of the warp - before deciding that those weavers who came before me - the ones who resleyed the reed - they actually had a point. So I untied the warp from the front beam - and pulled the bouts of warp out of the reed - securing each inch bout in a slip knot.
 Then working from the right to the left I re-sleyed the reed. All the time i thought how clever those weavers were - the ones who had not only worked out how to do this complicated thing - installing 600+ warp threads on a loom in pattern - but had shared their working method of how to do it. This took a little over an hour - but was much quicker than finding and fixing all the odd twisted errors. By this time it was too dark to see in daylight - even though it was only 5pm - I needed the extra punch of the desk lamp to help me.
 Then I had a magic moment, I settled myself on the floor with my draft diagram all ready to retie up the treddles for the new pattern. What I discovered was the lift for this draft was identical to the lift for the previous project - so I was all set to go. I was a bit lazy and wove the header inch using the 8/2 cotton from the last project that was already on the shuttle (this project is thinner 12/2 cotton).

Finally I checked the shed - and with no twisted threads and with no change to the tie up of the treddles it was clear. The end threads are my pair of floating selvedges so will sit in the middle of the open shed. Once I wind the cloth over the cloth beam I think i will get a better shed - that is something I might play a little with. Adjusting the treddle tie up to see if the shed can be larger. This is the second project with Texsolve - and it does make me more inclined to play.
I think I need to check the threading - there might be a few places where it isn't quite right. That will have to wait until the weekend I think.  A bit disappointing but something I suspected. I hope it is a straightforward fix - but if not most redos are quick as the how has already been worked out.

na Stella