Making circles

Spring. What's not to love? Sunny, but not too warm. Enough rain to water the garden so I don't have to. The countryside awakens from its wintery slumber and blooms into verdant glory. I love the spring.

In recent years I've associated spring with learning to weave (my first inkle loom came to me in the spring). This year, however, I'm feeling the urge to paint.

My first tentative toe tip into an on line presence was a gallery of my geometric (mandala) art. And for some reason I have an urge to revisit those circular patterns.

All those earlier creations were based on that old favourite of mine: the hexagon. The easiest way to divide up a circle when you have nothing but a compass and ruler, but not the only way. What about shapes based on four divisions, or five? Time to brush up on my geometric construction.

Today let's look at dividing into four quarters.

To divide a circle into four, draw a straight line through the centre. Then open the compasses slightly wider and put the point of the compasses where the straight line crosses the circle and draw an arc. Repeat from the other side of the circle as shown. A line going from side to side (through the little X marks where the arcs overlap) will be at ninety degrees to the original line and also pass through the centre of the circle.

By joining the four points where the straight lines cross the circle a square is constructed. The corners of the square can be used in the same way to create another pair of lines (and thereafter a square) at forty five degrees to the original.

From there you can use the grid to create an eight point directional compass, or maybe take some inspiration from something a bit more ornate like these Moroccan style tiles. The only barriers are imagination.

Ooh, baby baby

I am what you might call "maternally challenged." The thought of being pregnant fills me with terror and reminds me of that scene when the Alien bursts out of John Hurt's stomach. It's just not my thing. But obviously there are many people out there for whom the thought of reproduction doesn't start them hyperventilating and so it is for a couple of my dear friends who are soon to be parents for the first time.

No, it isn't Meghan Markle and Prince Harry.

One of the few things I've noticed about new mothers is that they seem to have huge bags in which to carry the million and one things that might be required during an outing with their new bundle of joy. A quick chat with the mum-to-be's mum confirmed this to be the case and that such a bag had not yet been acquired. Hurrah! An excuse to make a new bag.

Given that I'm not exactly the expert on all things baby it seemed like a good idea to find a pattern drafted by someone who knows what a new mother needs to carry around. Most of what I know about babies comes from watching "Grey's Monotony," so not much.

I asked the lovely Marianne at Picperfic to suggest a pattern. Marianne makes beautiful jewel toned bags, often using Kaffe Fassett fabrics, so if bold is your thing, do check out her shop. Oh, what the heck, check it out anyway.

She suggested the "Time for a Change" baby bag designed by the fabulous pattern drafter, Erin at Dog Under My Desk. With a wee one of her own, Erin was well placed to design the perfect bag. I mean, who knew - breast feeding makes you really thirsty? Obvious now I've thought about it, but it would not have occurred to me to add the pockets for water bottles.

The bag has lots of lovely details, carefully outlined in Erin's extensive text and photo instructions. An outside zip pocket for keys, purse and phone keeps the essentials handy for the mum without having to carry a hand bag.

Look at the two lines of top stitching on the bottle pockets. Doesn't that make it look expensive. And how neat is that zip sitting up against the shoulder strap tabs. It was a new zipper technique for me and one I'll definitely be using again.

This was probably the most complex bag I've ever made, but Erin's easy to follow, step by step instructions and ample photographs led smoothly through the construction. It was actually quite relaxing making something that I knew had been designed, trialled and used by Erin and her team of pattern testers. And I'm thrilled to tell you that the mum-to-be and her husband loved the bag!

As kids we're often told not to brag about our achievements, but I have to admit to being just a tiny bit proud of this bag.

Do you have a favourite pattern designer? Give them a plug in the comments.

With friends like these...

Don't you love it when your friends just "get" you?

I am lucky enough to have a couple of friends who run a haberdashers. Sometimes when the reps come round with the new season's lines they leave a catalog. The latest one contained these scrumptious prints from Sevenberry. My two lovely friends saved these sample pieces for me because they just knew how much it would float my boat to have them.

Aren't they fab.

The gals and the fabrics. Unfortunately I've only been able to track down one UK supplier who had the maths print in the cream. I may have to look further afield, or better still create something myself and save the carbon air-miles.

I really like the maths print on the darker backgrounds. Reminds me of the "old days" when schools had black boards rather than computerised white boards. Of course, in those days teachers were known to throw the board rubber across the room. I suspect classrooms are a little safer now as teachers are much less likely to throw a laptop.

The chemistry fabric has an interesting array of compounds. The easiest to identify is serotonin (C10H12N2O) the one below the Ga (Gallium) symbol. I haven't worked out the rest yet. I did do an internet search for the carbon-nitrogen ringed compound (in the middle of the N, S and Nh) because it looked interesting and I had no idea what it was, but the only thing I came up with was some high-energy compound stuff that was a tad too advanced for my sketchy recall of A-level chemistry. Hopefully I haven't been googling something I shouldn't...

Of course, now there is the excitement of working out what to make with these little treasures. Should they be patched together into a larger piece of fabric, or should each one have a starring role as a motif on a plain background? Hmm. Maybe they could be random patches on something plain. Ooh! The options. Whatever these precious pieces of fabric turn into, I just know they're going to be fab. Almost as fab as my lovely friends, who saw these prints and thought of me and the things that interest me. It's great to have people around who just get you. Seek out your tribe and find the people who can share your interests; the people who make you feel like "you" and not like you should be something, or someone different.

So, if you have already found your tribe, what print would your friends choose for you? Leave me a comment.

Starry, starry night

When I was a child I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to travel the universe, boldly going where no person had been before. At that time, most pilots came from a background of fighter pilot training: men with "The Right Stuff." The film of that name is still one of my favourites, though it does require some commitment, coming in at over three hours.

As a short-sighted female it was highly unlikely I'd be piloting my way to the moon or anywhere else and so eventually that dream of adventure was replaced by more modest ambitions, though my curiosity regarding what exists in the velvet blackness beyond our atmosphere remained undiminished.

In April 1990, NASA launched the Hubble Telescope, what, for me, has been one of the most thrilling pieces of technology since the moon landings. There were teething troubles, notably an error in the shape of the mirror, but repairs were made and now, nearly thirty years later the telescope continues to delight and educate through the stunning images captured by its various instruments. If you want to know more about the telescope, take a look at the website.

Both stunning and inspiring the Hubble images are perfect for interpretation in any medium. For a while now, I've been trying to work out how to interpret the images in fabric form. Tapestry is of course an option, but capturing the energy of an exploding star (planetary nebula) might be a bit of an ask. Not that I've totally ruled out the idea. I just need to think about that one for a while longer.

I turned to collage and an image of the Crab Nebula. Initially using organza to try and create the translucent clouds of ionized gas. As you can see, the result was vibrant and had some translucency, but it hasn't quite captured the wispy threads of the Hubble image. (Credits: NASA, ESA, and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA))

A workshop on free motion embroidery suggested a way forward. One exercise had us creating "new" fabric out of scraps using water soluble stabilser.

Sandwiching off cuts of embroidery thread between two layers of stabiliser created a surface on which to embroider a web. When the stabiliser was rinsed away what remained was a firm fabric with the wispy texture of a nebula's cloud.

At home, I couldn't quite bring myself to cut up yards of embroidery thread and didn't have enough off cuts to make enough fabric, so I delved into the bag of organza scraps. Using those scraps the main colour blocks of the nebula were laid out between two layers of "Solvy" and then the details were embroidered over the top. Once the stabiliser was rinsed away the web was embroidered onto a black flannel background.

The result is perhaps a little too densely embroidered and the colours a little too bright to be an accurate representation of the Hubble image, but I think as an interpretation, it's not bad for a first attempt.

At the top of the post is my follow up embroidery, based on the Bug Nebula. The image suited the denser stitching better and I'm very pleased with what I achieved. My next challenge is to reduce the puckering that the embroidery created. If you've got any tips on that, do let me know in the comments.

Zig a zag. Ahhhh!

Do you ever get those days when you want to make something stylish, but you just don't want to have to think too hard? Yeah? Well me too. That's how this fabric got woven.

I love clasped weft. It is such a simple idea but the effects you can create span the highly controlled piano keyboard patterns to my favourite - the random zig zag.

A ball of "Schoppel Zauberball Crazy" in the "Spring is Here" colourway turned up one day. A gift from a very lovely friend. There wasn't enough of it to do a full scarf, so mixing it with a rich black to really pop the verdant greens and hints of turquoise seemed the best way to do justice to such a pretty yarn. Clasped weft struck me as a perfect way to add a little interest without overpowering the beauty of the yarn. A random clasped weft would have worked nicely, but for a change I decided on a bold (for me) graphic design of triangles spanning the whole width of the fabric.

I warped up the 24" Ashford using the 7.5 dent heddle and a half and half stripe of the black and the Schoppel, doubling the threads to get the right sett for a clasped weft.

Once the warp was tied on the weft was clasped with the rest of the Schoppel on the shuttle and the rest of the black sitting in a crocheted string back, hanging off the back roller of the loom. The triangles were created using the grid of squares of the weft against the warp to inform where the next interlock of yarns should sit. It took a few rows to settle into the pattern but once I was in the zone this wove up quickly and was the perfect project for a lazy evening in front of the TV.

There's probably enough fabric for one full cushion (all in this fabric) and another with this as the front and probably a black brushed cotton for the back. The triangles will fill one side.

If you want to find out more about how to add clasped weft into your own weaving, then take a look here.

And if clasped weft isn't your thing then add a comment and tell me what's your lazy day weave.

Ars Gratia Artis

In the craft cave I aim to make things with a pleasing aesthetic but generally they are things which are functional: bags, straps, cushions, scarves and so on. Taking time to think about which colours will work well together and how to add an inkle band or a little quilting to stylise the product gives them a utilitarian beauty if you will, but the bulk of the creativity is in the construction.

I've recently found myself wanting more than that. The best way to explain it is by referencing the William Morris quote: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” I have a pretty good grasp of the "useful" (after all, I was an engineer), but I've never really found a way to express the creativity, which was somewhere along the way supressed in favour of the practical. Weaving being both practical and creative has perhaps been my gateway drug to creativity and having got a taste for it, the urge to focus on the "beautiful" has been growing. I've begun to wonder, is it time to step back from useful products and time to make "art for art's sake?"

But what? There is only so much space in the craft cave, so a new hobby wasn't really an option. Maybe it was time to re-vist an old one. In a rarely visited drawer languished the paint and brushes which had been in storge since becoming a "mess hazard" when combined with a puppy. I dusted them off and joined a painting group. Painting to a weekly theme, rather than doing my own thing really pushed me out of my comfort zone. It was great! It was freeing to just "go for it" and to not have to worry about whether it was any good or not because next week's subject or style might be a better fit.

Meanwhile the craft cave bag of weaving thrums (the left over bits) continued to fill up. The off cuts were destined to become cushion stuffing rather than go to landfill, but sometimes the yarn was too pretty to just scrunch into padding. I toyed with trying to turn it into some kind of felted fabric, but wasn't really sure how that would work with a mix of fibres, but then an idle internet search threw up a quote attributed to Albert Einstein:

"Life is a great tapestry. The individual is only an insignificant thread in an immense and miraculous pattern."

Tapestry. I could weave a tapestry and use up a bunch of thrums for small areas of colour. Landscapes were a recent theme at painting group, so inspired by that and a recent visit to a sand duned beach I wove an interpretation of looking through the dunes and out to sea. Craft cotton made a sturdy warp and treasures from the thrums bag together with a little virgin yarn made up the image.

Weaving the little areas of colour wasn't easy using the "make a yarn butterfly" method I'd seen online. My butterflies either fell apart or knotted up rather than unravelling on demand, so I allowed myself a new hobby purchase - a set of net repair shuttles.

It was slow going, making up an image from imagination (maybe I should have used a photo and re-created that in yarn) but it was very relaxing (slow and rhythmic). The mix of the analytical (how to fit together the blocks of colour, in which order) and the creativity of colouring in the image was stimulating yet freeing. I really enjoyed it.

The follow up was an abstract piece, inspired by images from the Anni Albers exhibition at Tate Modern.

In the images the tapestries have been laced onto picture frames. That has slightly distorted the straight lines of the abstract pattern, but I think they'll go back into place when released from the frame. I haven't yet worked out the best way to hang them. I could add dowels to the top and bottom and let them hang freely. Maybe they could be laced onto mount board and framed.

Do you weave tapestries? What is your preferred way to mount/hang them? Let me know in a comment.

Log cabin #2

In my earlier post about weaving log cabin patterns I talked about how to warp up a standard 5A 5B pattern. That's the pattern many people start with, but you can vary the size of the blocks to create other effects. In this post I want to consider some of those variations.

With equal size blocks of colour (in this case 4 yellow and 4 black) in the warp and the same pattern in the weft each block starts on one colour and ends on the other.

If you start with blocks of 5A and 4B before continuing with 5A and 5B the colour change is the other way round. So if you look at the first group of vertical lines instead of going black to yellow they go yellow to black. Similarly the horizontal stripes originally had black at the top and yellow at the bottom, that two has been reversed.

The pattern changes when the warp (or weft) has two adjacent threads of the same colour. By changing the position of those adjacent threads it is possible to generate many different log cabin patterns. For example:-

By always doubling one colour a symmetrical group is created. Using groups of different widths you can create more complex patterns.

What's your favourite log cabin pattern? Let me know with a comment.

Yarn Count

Another of the questions I often see on weaving forums is "what do those numbers like 3/2 mean?" When a weaver comes from a background of knitting or crochet where you have names like "laceweight" or "double knitting" it can be confusing to suddenly see patterns asking you to use 8/2 cotton or 2/16 silk or whatever. So what do those numbers mean?

If you buy a rod of metal it is likely to be labelled with the diameter (side to side measurement). Metal doesn't compress when you press it between your fingers, so the diameter is constant unless the rod is processed in some way. Yarn on the other hand is squashy. If you press it between your fingers it compresses to a narrower diameter. So diameter is not the most useful measure for yarn. Instead yarn is gauged, or numbered, by "Yarn count" which can be either a measure of length per unit weight or weight per unit length. These are known as direct and indirect numbering systems. All yarn has a count. It may have a name, but it will have been spun to a particular count.

Yarn counts are complicated because in the past there were no national or international yarn standards so spinners made up their own count systems, so at best you might have a regional count system, but not a national one. There are still a range of count systems, but they can be split into two groups: direct and indirect counts.

Direct yarn numbering system (mass/unit length)

The unit length is fixed and the weight is measured. The measurements are in the form X grammes/Y metres (or in Imperial measurements, X pounds/Y yards).

The international standard measurement for yarn (ISO 1144:2016) is a direct numbering system, using metric measurements and is known as the Tex. The Tex can be used from fibre to yarn and is given in grammes/kilometre (grammes/1000m). It is used for both natural and synthetic fibres.

Under the direct numbering system the larger the number, the thicker the yarn (for a given fibre), because for the same length of yarn there is more weight, so it must be thicker.

For example Tex 30 means each length of 1,000 metres is 30 grammes of weight. For Tex 100, a length of 1,000 metres has 100 grammes of weight. Tex is a logical system. If the Tex number is doubled, the yarn is twice as thick.

Another common direct numbering system is the denier. The denier was based on a strand of silk. Nine hundred metres of single strand silk weighs about one gramme. Denier is often associated with the sheerness of tights or stockings, perhaps because these were made from silk prior to developments in synthetic fibres.

Indirect yarn numbering system (length/unit mass)

The unit weight is fixed and the length is measured. The measurements are in the form X metres/Kg (or in Imperial units, X yards/pound).

Under the indirect numbering system the larger the number, the thinner the yarn (for a given fibre), because for the same weight of yarn there is more length, so it must be thinner (like rolling out a sausage of plasticine).

Common indirect count systems are shown in the table.

English Cotton Count (Ne) is a commonly used system. The yarn count number indicates the “number of 840 yard hanks of yarn per 1 pound weight”.

For example, Ne 1 – In one pound of yarn weight, there are 840 yards of yarn. Ne 5 – In one pound of yarn weight, there are 4200 (840x5) yards of yarn.

What's that? Your yarn is plied? Oh my. How does that fit with the count systems?

Strand number

It was very tempting to use the word "ply" as a title for this section, but "ply" comes with its own confusion - like 4 ply yarn that isn't made up of four strands. What's that all about? Maybe I'll get back to that...

A full count system has two numbers: the count number itself and the number of strands that are twisted together to form the yarn. So, strictly speaking a "single" would have a 1 as part of its description, to indicate one strand of yarn.

Cotton count (Ne) and metric (Nm) count tend to have the count number first, so 30/1 cotton (1 means single yarn) indicates that 30 x 840 yards of single strand yarn weigh 1 pound.

But what about something labelled 40/2? Taking the count number first. There are forty lots of 840 yards per pound of yarn so if this were single strand there would be 33600 yards of yarn. But, this is a 2 strand/ply yarn, so two strands are twisted together, making the yarn fatter. If the yarn is fatter it must be shorter (for the same weight) so the resultant count is 40/2 = 20. That means there would be 20 x 840 = 16800 yards of yarn in 1 pound weight.

For inkle weaving I like to use mercerised (aka perle) cotton. Common sizes for that are 3/2, 5/2 and 8/2. The 8/2 is the finest (a resultant count of 4), so 4 x 840 = 3,360 yards/pound. 3/2 (a resultant count of 1.5) so 1.5 x 840 = 1,260 yards/pound. Shorter length = fatter yarn.

Other systems have the numbers the other way around, so 2/30 would be 2 strands of 30 count yarn plyed together weighs one pound, which gives an overall count of 15.

Direct count systems, such as Tex or Denier, tend to have a single number, such as 60 denier of 40 Tex.

This page has a useful description of the many, many yarn counts.

This page contains a link to a chart containing many yarns used for weaving. It contains both the yards/pound and metres/kg data for a range of yarn types ans sizes. You can use the information to help find an equivalent yarn for a project. Maybe I'll write a blog about how to use the data another time.

As I said at the beginning, yarn count is a complicated business. I've barely scratched the surface here. I haven't really answered the question of how to compare knitting/crochet yarn with these count systems so perhaps that will be a toic for another time.

Note:

As a good scientist, I should point out that where I've used the word "weight" I am referring to the colloquial term, used when we "weigh" ourselves, some apples, our yarn, etc. For accuracy, I should of course have used the word "mass" but I figured that would add an extra layer of complication for those who maybe didn't have a science teacher who hammered home the difference.

Snowflake Geometry

To get in the festive mood, I like to watch old Christmas cooking shows. Fanny Cradock Cooks Christmas, a couple of Nigellas, something with Ruth Goodman recreating Christmases past... You get the picture. I also watch a handful of those OTT American "Holiday Baking" shows. This year there was a challenge to make snowflake cookies. Ooooh! Snowflakes. I sat up a little straighter waiting to see what I could learn from "America's best bakers."

What I learned was that while baking might be their forte, geometry wasn't. I think only one of them managed to create a six pointed snowflake design. Most were eight pointed.

Now I get that doing anything under pressure is tough and not everyone is as snowflake obsessed as me, or had such good maths' teachers, so I figured be part of the solution, not part of the problem. To that end, here is a little "how to" construct a regular (all sides the same length) hexagon.

The easiest way to do this is with a pair of compasses. Remember those from school maths' lessons? Well go rummage through the junk drawer, or raid your kid's pencil case and draw yourself a circle. Remember the circle you draw will be twice as wide as the gap between pointy end and pencil tip. That width is the radius of your circle (the distance from centre to circle edge). The size of your circle will determine the size of your hexagon.

Once you've drawn a circle stab it with the pointy end of your compass. It doesn't matter where, just jab it somewhere on the circle. Keep the compasses open the same amount as when you drew the circle. Now draw a little bit of a circle (an arc) crossing the original line. Where the arc and circle cross over, stab that place and repeat, until you have six arcs crossing the main circle. If you then join up those six points then voila - you've constructed a regular hexagon.

Of course the contestants in the baking show probably didn't have a handy set of compasses, so what could they have done? The eagle eyed among you will have spotted that each of the arcs (or tick marks) around the edge of the circle are one radius apart.

So grab a circular cookie cutter (or biscuit/pastry cutter if you prefer)and draw around it. Now you have a circle. Cut it out. Fold it in half. Cut along the fold. Now you have a semi-circle. Fold that in half. Now you have a quarter of a circle, but more importantly each straight edge of the quarter is the length of the radius. Draw around your cutter again and now you can use the edge of your quarter circle to mark where the tick marks go.

Once you have your hexagon, join the opposite corners and you have the basic structure for your snowflake.

I hope you enjoyed this little tutorial. If you've been inspired to create something hexagon based, or have some snowflake inspired crafts of your own then do share them.