A Study in Stubbornness

If nothing else, I am living proof that you can accomplish anything with sheer willpower and a usable hoard stash.

Today's test of willpower: a homemade loom, ideally while spending jack.
Result: success and a dead lower back.

Ow.

Remember that hoarder stash I mentioned? I found this really useful webpage to make a simple frame loom. How convenient that I have two "oops" frames I bought compulsively at Michaels about six years ago. No glass, no backs, and $8 a piece back then.


I wanted to keep the integrity of the painted side of the frame, in case (when :cough:) I ever get a real loom and want to use the frame for another art project.

So following the directions on the loom site, I tick-marked every quarter inch.

Then I realized I was an idiot and marked the wrong side. Tick marks belong on the outer edge.

Using David's Flexcut gouge tip knife, I cut notches to nestle yarn wraps. This will keep the warp (vertical wraps of yarn that hold the fun stuff) in place and a little more secure while I figure out what the hell I'm doing.



Still following the site, I tied the warp to the bottom of the frame. I used 100% cotton in a light pink I thought would hide well. I went into this thinking I'd make a pretty beach scene.

HA.

The warp was a pain in the ass, but nothing like what was to come.


I wanted to keep the smooth painted side facing me, so I flipped the loom over. Using less-soft cotton kitchen twine (which is for my spinning wheel drive bands) I followed the next step and twined (? put the twining? Did the twine?) the bottom which, I think, adds stability to the warp threads and gives the woven piece a bottom edge.


This gathers each wrap (which is also warp, yay words) together, the front half and the back half. The halves are important later when I get to the REALLY tedious shit that had me yelling at everyone. This first step, though, adds needed stability. Those bottom loops ain't goin' nowhere.


This right here. See that white mass of fuckery? That is my introduction to heddles. I used a wonky ebony stick David turned on the lathe when he first got the machine, because it looked cool. It's actually super annoying, but I'm stubborn so I keep using it.

But those threads. That's more of my drive band twine (now wasted and I'm angry) wrapped around the back halves of the wrapped cotton. The link explains it better, but I use a big flat stick to lift up the top half (which is naturally split by the frame's width) to run yarn through. But picking up the back half would be a major pain in the ass, so this heddle is wrapped around each individual yarn (39 of them, to be exact) so I can pull up on the ebony and the back yarns are pulled up for easy access.

I know this makes no sense, I'll have to video it sometime.

But this heddle got stuck on EVERYFUCKINGTHING and I got mad and cut it all off. Wasted drive band. 

I needed something thinner, so as I prepared to cut 39 MORE loops, I found some green crochet thread in the attic.

You can see here how there are two layers of pink thread. The bottom half is pulled up to the top here so I can easily gather them all at once while weaving.

All the pink yarn was making my eyes cross so I slid a paper towel through the middle so I could easily see where to wrap the heddle strings around. I ended up messing up but it's Day One so who cares. 

Once all this shit was squared away, it was finally time for the fun part.

Estimated time to get to fun: four hours.


My setup, to begin, was planted on the floor because I didn't understand how else to hold it. My feet held the frame against the train table when I pulled up the heddle, so it wouldn't fall over. That big flat stick up top is what pulls up the top layer of threads. They alternate - top, bottom, top, bottom - with every pass of the fun yarn to hold everything securely in place. The shuttle-needle with the white wool on it was made by David just today. He modeled it after Kelsey's needle on her kid loom. 

Suspended between the weaving and the sticks, is a ruler I'm using to prop the warp apart so I don't have to hold onto the big sticks. Easier on my hands, and it doubles as a tamp to push the wool down.



Followed by extra tamping with a dog comb. This makes everything nice and cozy so there's no holes.


Texture was added with more twining, this time with two colors. The green is Malabrigo Rasta leftovers and the teal is my handspun. 


And this is the project so far. I added my fun art yarn there in the middle, but it's not showing the texture as much as I'd like. So I need to play some more. I don't like the dangling teal in the front, or the Rasta bump in the green there, but finishing is a long way away. Something will work out.

So there's my (ENTIRE DAY) adventure into using a small loom. I understand better what loom parts are, and why there are huge ones that take up entire rooms. I also know I never want to set one of those up. 

Check out and "like" Bobbin Boy on Facebook for the really cool, massive looms, and all the crazy historical shit Milissa and Alan do. I want to be them when I grow up, but less looms. 

Comments

  1. I learned to use a floor loom in college. Once the tedium of setting it up was done (which took for-fucking-ever) it felt great: foot pedals, throwing the shuttles, raking the heddle back and forth-- made you feel like you were getting shit done, son. But getting to that point felt like too much fuss to me, plus if you make one mistake in your warp, or your pedal sequence, or any other number of things, it affects your whole work, and you have to tear down and start over from the beginning. HUGE pain in the ass. Some folks might find that acceptable. I say it stunts my creativity. But I'm always happy to see others find joy in making stuff. Well done, you!

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