I've been busy with some scheming, and it looks as if I'll be able to teach netting soon in the future. We have found some material to work netting needles that does not involve hours and hours of hammering a thick rod down into a thin rod, and thus needles can be made that won't cost a fortune. The first two of the new generation are still unpolished but about finished otherwise...

Beautiful tools, made after a proper source (an archaeological find from London), to spread again knowledge about an old, beautiful textile technique - what's not to love?

I just realised that it's been ages since I last posted something textile-y that is nice and old... so I picked something out at random.
Here you go:


Have you ever seen something like this?

No?

It's a very special textile, but not a proper garment. It seems to be a mix of a burial shroud and a grave garment. You can see the armscyes and a neckopening, and the legs were covered with the leg parts. I'm always reminded a little bit of a baby's romper suit, though the wearer of this expensive, patterned silk lampas certainly didn't romp about anymore, and the piece can have covered only his front.

The piece comes from the grave of Rudolf IV, died 1365. This object is really one-of-a-kind; we know normal garments worn normally in death (especially when accidents happened in bogs), we have lots of proper garments used as shroud textiles in Herjolfsnæs, and we have special grave garments that are only basted together, but still follow the normal tailoring scheme more or less. There is no parallel that I know of for Rudolf IV's shroud/garment. It's the time of short men's jackets and tight-fitting hose. Maybe that was the reason why they cut into a large piece of perfectly fine lampas for some fake tailoring - to have a quick yet costly-looking and representative burial dress for the corpse. He died in July in Milano, and the corpse was transported to Austria to bury it there, so it's possible to imagine why dressing it in proper garments might not have been possible anymore, which would be another reason for a special solution like this.

Whatever the cause, it still looks splendid, and I can easily imagine that when the cloth was used back in 1365, it was fit for a representative burial. And for us today, it tells a bit more about the possibilities and the ingenious solutions of burial problems in the middle ages - the dead body has to represent status, wealth, position, rank, not only until the grave, but right into it. And this has to be achieved no matter if the dead is already decomposing or not...

Picture source: MARINI, PAOLA, NAPIONE, ETTORE und VARANINI, GIAN MARIA (Hrsg.): Cangrande della Scala. La morte e il corredo di un principe nel medioevo europeo. Venedig 2004, page 127.

Oh, and by the way, this is post number 100 in this blog - so happy hundredpostiversary!

The deadline for the Textilforum Call for Papers is officially over. But... there are still places left. We have planned for 50 persons staying in at the museum (and I do think it's a good deal, even if you have to bring your own bedding), and I had thought that we would have no problem filling these places. Heck, there have been so many positive comments all over, I was sure we'd have no problem.

I know that it is a common thing to extend conference CfP deadlines, and I also know that I'm one of those people registering in the last week before deadline (or even on the last day). And that it can happen that I miss a deadline, too. So we'll extend our deadline to fill some more of the places.

However, I'm wondering why there have been so few registrees. Is it my fault? Has the wording been bad? Is the participant questionnaire too hard to find? Does it sound as if we don't want people to come? Maybe it sounds as if you have to give a paper or bring a poster or else you can't come? While we appreciate paper/poster offers, these are no absolute requirement. So if you are an archaeologist, conservator, hand weaver, hand spinner, historical textile person and have an interest in historical textile techniques, come join us! And we still need spinners for our experiment, too - so if you are a handspinner and would like to participate in the spinning experiment, do fill out the questionnaire and come have fun doing science!

It's busy time here in my study: the taxes can finally be finished off (I needed one last receipt for that), there's things to be done for the thesis printing, last-preparations-wise - like the cover - and a gazillion of emails to write. At least my brain has jumped into idea mode for the cover design, so I can try out a few basic concepts and see how they might work.

Which is why I'm off to my graphics programme now.

The long weekend is over, and I have found a flood of mails in my inbox and a heap of things to do. Around Ascension, I traditionally get together with a handful of other people to do some bookbinding work*, which means a fun combination of creativity, friendly banter and precise measuring. This always gets me totally absorbed and has the positive side effect of practical things coming out in the end - folders for sorting or transporting loose papers, books or folders suitable as presents, copies bound together in book form, well-read books lovingly repaired and restored to function, and - last but not least - boxes. I like doing boxes. Handmade ones are sturdy, lightweight, and really beautiful. This year's yield is still being pressed so it will dry straight and true, so no proper photos yet, but three years ago I made this:


I love getting out of the normal flow of things for a long weekend off, preferably doing something that really and completely takes my thoughts away from the work back home, but I always find it a tiny bit hard to get back into the workflow on the Monday after that. And that's just what I need to do now.

I am inundated in chopsticks, and that is a Good Thing - because these cheap, all-alike, slim and slightly conical things will serve as the spindle sticks for the Spinning Experiment.

I have thought long and hard about what I could take for the experiment. One of the first ideas was to have twenty spindles and four different whorls each, and rotate the whorls during the spinning process. But then there is another variation in the process, one we can't measure or calculate: The order of spinning with different spindles in the test. What if it makes a difference whether someone starts the experiment spinning with spindle A and then B as opposed to spinning with spindle C and then A? And so on? So I arrived at the conclusion that the safest bet would be to give everybody the same spindle at the same time.

Which means making one hundred twenty spindle whorls (plus a few to spare in case of unforeseen desasters). And ideally, attaching all those whorls to a spindle stick so that they can't slip when you drop the spindle (something I do fairly often with an unknown, new and maybe awkwardly running spindle). Which means - as one possible solution - to glue a stick to each whorl. Which in turn means making one hundred twenty spindles glued together... with identical whorls and identical spindle sticks. There. Since our budget is not so big (read: nonexistent), cheap was not an option but a requirement. And slim, identical, slightly conical-at-the-top, round sticks for little money? You got it. Chopsticks.

That is why I am sitting here with a box, newly arrived, containing one hundred pairs of Taiwanese bamboo chopsticks. Next time, when we have won the lottery got a budget for a similar experiment, we might use proper sticks for another spinning experiment. For now, bamboo will do.

So no proper blog post today.

Go to this time-sink this wonderful page with ressources instead:

On-Line Digital Archive of Documents on Weaving and Related Topics

and have fun!