Just to bring yesterday's thoughts to a close with a little story about how differently people think, here's what happened many years ago at my birthday party.

We were all sitting in the living room back in our old apartment, me and a number of friends and of course the most patient man of them all, and chatting away and having a good time, and then suddenly one of the many physicists in the room points at my little spinning wheel standing in one corner and says "How does this thing work?"

So of course I do what you do in such a situation - I pull out the wheel and I show how spinning is done, and I explain that this both twists the thread and winds it up at the same time, and it does this because the treadle drives the wheel and that in turn drives the bobbin, and the flyer is taken along for the ride by the yarn running through the hooks, but slowed down by this brake thing here, so they go at different speeds and this is why the yarn is wound onto the bobbin.

Blank stares. No comprehension whatsoever. "Yes, but how does this work?" So I try to explain again, showing all the different parts, explaining how the rotation of the whole thing twists up the fibre into yarn, and the flyer is just taken along for the ride by that yarn running over it, and I try to find different words, and different angles to look at it, but I have no clue how to explain it better, and I am met with blank stares still - I just can't get it across, and I'm getting frustrated, my goodness, there must be a way for me to make them understand?

Because, you see, I know my friends. I know very, very well that they are not stupid. At all. Or slow on the uptake. They are working at university, they are making science, they are writing their PhDs, and I've read some of the things they write, and I don't even get half of it, but I do get enough to know they are very intelligent people. And still... I just can't get that simple concept of how a flyer wheel works across to them.

So I'm sitting there, about to start over again with my explanation though I'm really feeling helpless by now - and then the Most Patient Man steps in, and he says just four words:
"It's a slip clutch."

Around me, six or seven men go "Aah." simultaneously. Now they know exactly how this works.

And me? When I think of this evening, I can still hear that "Aah", and I can also still remember the mix of feelings that I had about it - relief that at last there was clarity, and feeling slightly stupid because I had not been able to explain in a way to meet their needs, and at the same time realising that there can be differences in thinking so huge that the fitting explanation can be completely unavailable to me, and that it needed someone else who knows my way of thinking better, and who also knows the others' way of thinking, and knows the latter well enough to make the translation.

I have made very sure, though, to remember that term. These days, whenever someone stands before me, wanting me to explain the spinning wheel, and he (it's usually men) looks at me with a blank stare after the normal explanation, but it seems like he might be a technically inclined person, like an engineer, or a physicist, or something in that line of work, I take a breath and I say "It's a slip clutch."

You know what? They usually go "Aah." Finding the right words to explain is all it takes... and it also is what makes explaining, sometimes, really hard - because the right words do exist, only they might not exist in my personal dictionary. (Yet.)

I'm back home after a truly wonderful weekend - I think I had as much fun teaching my weavers as they had with the tablet weaving!

As always, what makes part of the fascination I have with teaching is how very differently people see (and thus learn) things. This gets especially obvious in techniques like tablet weaving where you have a combination of motoric skills (how to grasp and turn the tablets) and knowledge (when to do what) plus several directions where the tablets can move.

Sometimes, my explanations hit home straight away. Sometimes, though, my way of thinking and a students' way of thinking is so different that I need to find another way to explain, and that can be surprisingly difficult. In these cases, it often takes me a while to find out where I did not get across correctly what I was trying to, but once that has happened, there usually is a way to translate things and get the point right.

Mind you, this is by no means an indication of being "a bit stupid" or "slow on the uptake". Usually, it really just means that my way of thinking (and therefore explaining) is so different that it takes a translation, so to say, or a way of looking at things from a completely different angle. I've been having effects like this with the Most Patient Husband when I was trying to explain things to him, and he is certainly a very intelligent man who is quick to get things. We just see some stuff very, very differently. (Sometimes, by the way, someone else in the group thinks in some kind of inbetween way, and can help by phrasing things just differently enough to convey the message - and then I try to remember that for future teachings.)

So one of my goals when teaching is to find the words for everyone in the group to understand what I'm getting at - and the bonus, for me, is seeing all those large and small differences in how we all see our world.  And if you ever find yourself in one of my workshops and my explanations just make no sense to you, please don't think you are stupid, or slow, or unable to understand. Let me know that I have not gotten across, we will try to figure out where the problem is, and I will hunt for the words or the story or the way of explanation that will bring it home to you.

Because the way I see it is this: If I am telling you things, and you understand what I am telling you but choose to ignore it and do things differently, and you get into trouble - that is your problem (and I might or might not be able to help).
If, however, I am telling you things, and you do not understand what I want from you, that means I have not explained it well for you, and that is not your problem at all, that is my problem, because it means I am not doing my job right, and I will do everything I can to take care of it. So don't think you are slower than others - you just think differently, and we need to find the matching explanation.

I also mentioned... sprang, right? There has been some spranging going on, both in preparation for the workshop I'll give (where there will be a little flower made as a pattern)...

[caption id="attachment_4223" align="alignnone" width="640"] The flower motif - almost invisible on the collapsed sprang...


[caption id="attachment_4222" align="alignnone" width="640"] ...but very much visible when it is stretched out a bit!


...and, as a sideline collateral, some spranging on a project of mine that has been in hibernation for several years. (I believe things like that happen to all of us.) It is basically a very simple thing - a circular (and thus "endless" warp), worked in simple, boring, basic interlinking... to the point where about as much is left over as would make a good bag handle.

The plan, you see, was to make this a bag, which would stretch to almost any form and size, within the (generous) limits that sprang fabric gives. I wanted a nice, long strap as a handle or carrier strap, though, and that is supposed to be a bit slimmer than the rest. The first thing I tried was just taking double threads as working elements, but that did not give enough of a slimming effect, and using 4 or 6 as single elements messes up the nice colour effect. So... double-layered sprang to the rescue!

I did a little test piece in green and purple, to make it easier for me to figure out how things are done...

[caption id="attachment_4224" align="alignnone" width="640"] Thanks to this twisting up on itself, you can see the striped beginning (purple and green following each other) and then, in the middle, the double-layer sprang (where I even did a tiny bit of colour changing).


...and then I started double-layering my strap.



You can see how it narrows down, and changes a bit in structure, but the colours stay similar. It's a little fiddlier than regular sprang, and I am still in the stages where I brain-mumble the mantra of "front layer, back layer, front layer, back layer" all the time (plus I already made one small mistake near one edge), but it does work quite nicely.

Now all that's left to do is a generous amount of double-layer spranging, and then, in the very end, doing double-layer sprang with knitting needles instead of fingers (which will be... exciting!) and finishing it up by securing the final shed (which I will do by weaving in a few threads, to have a firm, stable ending).

And then, eventually, I might have a bag...

Sometimes, things just line up, and then exciting things happen. Such as a weekend workshop on tablet weaving that I will give, on January 18-20 2019 - in a stunningly beautiful house in Méry, Belgium. I am utterly, utterly thrilled by this - and maybe you are too?

The house is the Merveille de Méry, a 19th century country house, lovingly restored and beautifully situated in woody grounds. It's near Liège, which means it is easy to reach by train (and there will be a shuttle service to the house).



My workshop will run from Friday late afternoon to Sunday afternoon, and we will explore in depth the structures of tablet weaving. The aim is to give you a deep understanding of how patterning in tablet weaving works:

- the differences in s- or z-warping
- their relation to patterns and turn directions
- how to tell where you are in a pattern
- how to see which thread colours will appear next in your band
- how to fix mistakes
- how to transition from threaded-in patterns with two colours to doublefaced weaves

These things are taught as part of a system, starting with making a continuous warp. The deep understanding of how tablet weaving works, together with this system, will enable you to:

- analyse, understand, and copy bands that you see
- draft your own patterns with two or more colours
- weave patterned bands without any pattern draft, similar to how bands have been woven in the past.

This workshop may even take you to the basics of weaving 3/1 broken twill - the type of patterning used in the most complex of medieval tablet woven bands.

Workshop start is Friday, January 18, 6 pm; you can arrive at the house from 2 pm. The workshop ends on Sunday, January 20, at 4 pm. If you are travelling by train, a shuttle service from Liège to Méry on Friday and back on Sunday is possible.

I'm so delighted to be able to offer this - I've been wanting to do a larger tablet weaving workshop for a while now, and to have the opportunity to do it in such a stunning house, where we will have one room dedicated to our weaving and the rest of the house to relax between sessions, this is just awesome.

If you are interested, you can book your spot - including food and drink! - via my shop. If you book before December 10, you get the Early Bird Special Price of 395 €; after this, the regular fee is 425 €.

I'm already looking forward to this so much!

In 2017, Anja got together with me to organise a weekend meet-up for sewing, chatting, and having some workshops with me, called "Historisches Nähtreffen", and that was such a success that we decided to do it again.

So we asked people if they would like a second one (they did!) and what kind of workshops they would like, and in the end, we decided on the basics of sewing and on how to spin with distaff and spindle, just like last year, and two new kids on the block: medieval embroidery and an introduction to sprang.

Which means I've been sitting down doing some sprang in the last weeks, too - to find out about possible frame solutions for the workshop, to test materials and, of course, to make a plan for the actual workshop. As in "what to teach and in what sequence".

The result? This:



That's the preliminary test run, and there will be more tests - but I really like how this came out, and that it is actually large enough to fit a phone (or a powerbank, in this case). I'm also amazed, as usual, how stretchy this is. When it came off the frame, it was really long and really narrow, and I had my doubts that it would actually fit. It still gets longer and narrower when taken off:



Sprang. Fascinating.

Since I've been talking about needing guinea pigs, I thought I might give you a little bit of background on the development of my workshops in general.

I love giving workshops, or courses, or lessons, or whatever you want to call it. I really enjoy being able to pass on knowledge - theoretical and practical - and see how people start to become friends with a new technique. No matter whether it's braiding, knitting, weaving, or any other craft, every single person has his or her own, personal pattern of movements, and preferences on how to do things, or handle elements and tools. It's always fascinating for me to see this unique, personal finger dance develop, and it makes one part of why I like teaching so much.

Just like with many other things, though, a lesson does not spring from nothing to full perfection - it needs an astounding lot of work and preparation to develop a workshop or course.

This starts with making a basic concept. What do I want to teach? Are the students adults or children? What do they want and expect from the course? How likely is it that they have previous experience with the technique? How long can I make the course, and how deep into the technique can we go?

Usually, I try to put a lot of information into each workshop, to make sure that everyone goes out with a good, solid understanding of the basics and the tools to develop this further. This means structuring the workshop carefully so that I can set a relatively high pace, while still allowing enough time to try out things and get a bit of practice.

Once the basic concept stands, it's on to test runs and thinking about logistics. I usually do several test runs of the course, working the course programme and babbling to myself. I'm also checking how long each step takes me (and then, obviously, extra time gets factored in for having several people doing this the first time ever), and trying to find the best sequence of tasks. For some workshops, I've also done "live test runs" with a few willing people, testing out if things all work like they are supposed to do.

Logistics are another thing that needs consideration. How much space do I need per person? Table space and floor space can both be an issue depending on the venue. How many tools do I need? What are the materials necessary? How much extras need to be available in case of calamities? Will participants want to bring (maybe to test) their own tools as well?

Keeping in mind that there are several persons who need to do something at the same time, tool count can rack up quickly. One of the reasons why it took me so long to develop the tablet-weaving course range was that I had to bite the bullet and buy a freakishly large amount of clamps. To fit up to 8 people into the course, I need four clamps each for the warping method I use - and that means 32 clamps. These have to be bought (and it is worth it to get good quality ones, as they are gently but consistently abused), transported, and stored. Similar things are true for other crafts. I need to have enough netting needles for a course - these, at least, are lightweight and easy to store, though having them made is an investment as well. Sprang courses require having a frame available for each participant, plus some large demonstration frame to show the whole class the movements and what happens with the threads. These, too, need to be designed, made, paid for, and stored.

Once all this is done, I can sit down and write the final workshop script that will keep me on track while I'm teaching, and make sure I don't forget mentioning a crucial detail when it is necessary to do so (because these crucial details often get so ingrained if you have done the craft for a while that you are not aware of them anymore).

And then, finally, I can work on the course description and set the price. So if you've ever wondered what goes behind a workshop I give, and why I charge as much for it as I do - there you are.

I need some guinea pigs. Or, as the Germans call it, "Versuchskarnickel".

I have mentioned I was planning to make a video workshop on the pattern-free tablet weaving method, right?

Well, the "planning to" has progressed to "I have a script, and a camera, and I am getting started". Which is nice. However, since this is the first thing in that line of work, and since I want to make sure that what I am doing is going to work for those who will be watching the videos, I need some guinea pigs to give me feedback on the test runs of the lessons.

What does that mean? It means I will send you download links to the videos I have made, taking you through the course from start to finish, with probably some wait times inbetween as things get into the way or I get sidetracked or have technical issues. You will be getting test run videos that are probably badly cut (I will not invest oodles of hours into the test run) and contain the occasional verbal blunder. Some of them will not be made with the final materials.

Your task, if you are joining the merry band of furry victims, will be to watch the videos, follow the instructions, and tell me everything that was not good, not clear, not helpful, or otherwise shitty. (And yes, I fully expect to hear a lot of "this was shitty" - after all, it's first steps in many regards for me.) That starts with the instructions themselves, obviously, but goes on to camera work and camera angle, lighting, or maybe just the fact you find that my beheaded upper body is twitching too much while holding shears and bits of yarn into the camera. (I will also ask you to provide your full contact data, and sign an agreement form that you will not pass on or publicise the videos or parts of them in any way.) I'm not keen on hearing that I am doing a lot of things badly, but I much prefer hearing about them from a band of testers with minds steeled against weird takes than from the paying customers later on.

What do you need to join in? Basically, just the will to do it, and enough time for doing the tablet weaving according to the instructions. It will eat some hours, as it is a slow task, but if you are interested in this, you will probably find it fun and not tedious. You do not need to be an expert in tablet weaving - in fact, I'd be happy to have one or two absolute beginners in the group, and you will be able to follow along just as well, as we're doing the system from scratch.

You will also, apart from your general willingness, a way to watch the downloaded videos, and the time to do stuff and then give me feedback, need 30 tablets plus yarn to weave with... and two points to tie your warp to. There will be a video bit about tools and materials, so you'll be informed properly. (Or so I hope.)

I am aiming for about a dozen folks. So... if you are interested, let me know via mail, or contact form, or through the comments here - preferably with a short summary of your previous tablet weaving experience, so I can get a basic idea, and I'll get back to you with further info!