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eine Saite

  • spindles
  • textiles
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  • research
  • blog
  • about
  • publications & resources

that soothing rattle

Peruvian captive ring spindle, called ‘chac-chac’ which means rattle. Between the wide whorl and the lower ring is a loose ring, which moves around when the spindle is twirled, making a whirring sound. Shown here with Targhee dyed by

High on my favorite spindles list is one of several from Peru, a little one-ounce spindle with a captive ring. The loose ring makes a sound while the spindle spins, a rattle that gives the spindle its Quechua name. I’ve heard various theories on why the captive ring, from audible tracking of the spinner, to woodworkers’ showing off. But in wandering around my own neighborhood spinning, I’ve found another, somewhat enchanting role for this chattering sound.

A passel of Peruvian spindles, with the chac-chac on the left. At least a couple of these are constantly in use around (or outside) the house.

We have a lot of birds around my house. Really, concentrated near my house. I can walk for over a mile with my binoculars, and not need them until I’m back within 50 yards of my driveway, where all the birds hang out. During the winter, it’s mainly American Robins and Varied Thrushes, Chickadees (Black-capped and Chestnut-backed), and Kinglets (Golden-and Orange-crowned), with Spotted Towhees, Dark-eyed Juncos, Red-breasted Nuthatches, and Anna’s Hummingbirds year-round. So, I’m wandering around outside with my spindle. This has, I realize, become an essential spiritual practice during pandemic times: walking outside with my spindle. On most days when it’s not (as now) pouring down rain, I tend to get out there at least for a spell, and it helps.

Bare chac-chac spindle, with a low whorl by Allen Berry, wool dyed by Abstract Fibers.

Recently, I was wandering up the hill behind my house, where there is an unbuilt lot full of trees, a band of partial forest very popular with the juncos. They are usually flitting around there, dashing across the open space by the drive, chipping and chucking their rapid, abstract calls. On this day, I was able to mingle quite closely, moving very slowly and standing still for long stretches of time, but never ceasing to use my chac-chac spindle. It rattled along, renewed with each flick, and the birds were never disturbed. On the contrary, I believe (and this is not the first time I’ve had the thought) the spindle’s irregular purr actually allowed me to get closer to the birds without causing alarm.

Orange on orange - love when the spinning matches my clothing!

The gentle sound of wood against wood, natural but irregular, may be similar enough to bird calls to mesh with their soundscape. If I knew the kind of language that had beautifully rich single words to express whole phrases, I would name this spindle “soothing to the birds.” As I stood there spinning amidst juncos and towhees I thought, this is really what it’s all about. This is belonging. I realized in that moment that the work of my life is to learn not how to stand out, but how to blend in.

It has been fun to gather images of soothing-to-the-birds from the various times I’ve taken pictures over the last few years. Lately the spindles have mostly been working toward the weaving above and its future companions, with stripes of Navajo Churro, dark Coopworth, Manx Longthan, and madder & indigo dyed Corriedale. The spinning moves me closer to the weaving I wish to be doing, the people who have practiced before me, and now the birds who share this place with me.

(Sometimes I put my musings about spinning over here in the spinning blog, in case you’re looking for more.)

tags: handspinning, handspunyarn, spindle, chacchac, peru, weaving, backstraploom, backstrapweaving, wool
Sunday 12.19.21
Posted by Tracy Hudson
 

weaving and weaving and weaving

My double weave and supplementary weft samples, surrounded by Laverne's beautiful palette of tencel yarns.

I probably overuse the word "whirlwind" to describe periods of time in my life, so let's say that the last several weeks have been a blur of weaving and textile-related stimulation.

It started with a visit to Kansas City.

Well, it actually started over a year ago when I plotted and schemed to bring Laverne Waddington to Port Townsend for a class. She visits Seattle regularly,  but I hadn't managed to bring her to my home yet, so I drummed up interest in my weaving guild (not difficult at all) and scheduled a day of weaving in April 2018. Getting this all organized had been my focus, as well as family issues, and so when I prepared to go to KC for phase one of family stuff, I was not thinking of fun fiber events or weaving opportunities.

But of course, Kansas City is the new home, for three years running, of Ply Away, and I soon became aware that fate, the universe, and/or the weaving gods had conspired to place me in the perfect position to photobomb Abby's intermediate backstrap weaving class and assist her with a warp-winding method I've been eager to learn for YEARS! I mean, really. I can't express how great this was, particularly for being so unexpected and unsought.

Being Abby's warping partner!! Peak moment, right here.

Watching Abby go through the basics of backstrap was edifying - although this was an intermediate class, she reviewed things like winding two-color warp and making heddles, for the benefit of the newer weavers (those 5-6 year-olds on the Chinchero weaver scale.) I had been advised and coached by Abby over the last 8 years, but had never actually watched her handle a warp, so just seeing how she did pickup, opened sheds, and used her hands and tools was a special treat.

Abby heddles a supplementary warp band.

It was also remarkable to weave with Abby and then Laverne, almost back-to-back. I've learned to weave from these two people, but I'd never sat in a class where they showed beginners the basics before, and in both cases I got to see the teaching method in action and directly compare the styles. Abby is admittedly Chinchero-chauvinist, teaching The Way she grew up learning, while Laverne has amalgamated methods from a variety of traditional weavers in Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Ecuador, from whom she has learned different techniques. Both of them have experience as educators, and so their teaching is deliberate and skillful, developed from an understanding of progressive levels of learning. This means I got to observe not only how to weave from the student's perspective, but also how to teach, which interests me because I have taught backstrap once or twice, and hope to have more opportunities.

Laverne demonstrates supplementary weft patterning.

Being around newer students, I also saw how the teaching translated into their understanding of how to weave. Abby's students are comfortable with Quechua terms like illawa and sonqopa (heddles and shed stick, which are the only system they use for opening sheds,) while Laverne's students adopt the clever "twisty sticks" (an extra cross held on two bound sticks that is used to help open both sheds), and heddle the alternating "pebble" sheds when using such patterns. The terminology and vocabulary of movement that each set of students picks up is different, but they're all learning traditional backstrap weaving and it's brilliant to see weavers growing up.

I've felt pride in being able to weave in this way, since I began in 2010, and having my skills confirmed by my teachers gives me a thrill of confidence, and motivation to keep growing. It has been intense, having so much exposure to my weaving people. This is a precious community we're creating, and I hope to nurture it.

So that's the overview. Then, there was the stuff I actually learned, and the whole process of absorbing the information. I got a lightning-fast demo of supplementary warp patterning in Abby's class (fast because I had to keep leaving because family,) and was glad that Laverne made me show her later, which helped me remember what the heck we did. It's kind of like learning a language: I can repeat things perfectly, in the moment, but ask me the word later and unless I wrote it down, it's gone. I made this warp immediately after Abby, which was fine and easy, but I very nearly forgot how it was done when asked to explain a week later. But I did figure it out. It's easy. I just have to write it down (or show Laverne, who is way more meticulous in sampling and nailing down techniques - she'll remember it!)

The two-person warp winding method (shown above) with a header cord was my Holy Grail of things I wanted to learn, so I was crazy excited for that. Only thing is, it takes two people, so until I see Abby again, I can't exactly practice.

Supplementary warp, showing two sheds - easy, once you know how.

From Laverne, I got to learn two techniques I've been curious about for a long time: double weave and supplementary weft patterning. Both were completely new to me, so I had to focus and work to get a grip on the mechanics. They make a nice pairing because the patterns follow the same math, or logic, meaning they can be charted in the same way. So if I come up with a design in double weave, I could weave it with supplementary weft - although there are some considerations that make design choices more suited to one or the other. At any rate, my head and hands have been fully occupied with continuing to reinforce the type of thing shown below. I've followed through with my samples better than I usually do, being determined to keep these techniques in my tool kit.

My supplementary weft and double weave samples, after continuing at home.

tags: weaving, backstrap, loom, franquemont, waddington, peru, bolivia
Thursday 05.03.18
Posted by Tracy Hudson
Comments: 1
 

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