Big change

The first loom I owned was a $70 find in a secondhand clothing store about 4 years ago. It was a 4 shaft 40" jack loom; it's rustic character indicating it may have been homemade. All it needed to become fully functional was some new tie-up cords and I was able to teach myself to weave on it without too much trouble. However, when I realised I wanted to weave forever, ie. it wasn't going to be just a passing fad, I coveted a bigger and better loom.

Enter an 8 shaft 40" Mecchia (made in New Zealand) jack loom courtesy of a local weaver who had downsized her home and didn't have space for it. I love this loom. It's easy to use, and is rarely without a warp on it. The only downside is that it's only 40" wide. I want to make throws from my handspun but only having a 40" reed means the finished item ends up at about 36" and that's too narrow for me - I like them at least 40" finished. After making two double width throws I vowed never to do another again (they're so painfully slow) and placed a wider loom on the long-term wishlist. Not having the finances for anything more upmarket, I figured a simple 54" 8 shaft countermarche would be adequate. While there had been a few for sale out of my local area, the logistics of travelling to look at them before buying, then having to arrange shipping, reassembly, and so on, meant I was prepared to sit tight until something suitable came up in the local area.

Enter the 60" 8 shaft Mecchia with dobby, sectional beam, tension box, three box flying shuttle and standard beater, plus numerous other accessories! This loom was advertised on a national fibre craft mailing list and it was local. I didn't know the owner, who turned out to be a wonderful woman in her eighties who was well-known and respected amongst older weavers, but she hadn't woven for some time. My immediate thoughts when I read the advertisement was that 60" width, flying shuttle, etc. was overkill in terms of what I needed, but as I'd only ever seen photos of a flying shuttle I was curious to see the real thing. I phoned the owner, asking if I could visit to just look, explaining that I wasn't interested in buying. In typically generous weaver spirit she was more than happy for me to simply look. You know how the story ends of course - after not much more than 5 minutes at her house I decided I had to have it, and it now takes pride of place in my 'studio' downstairs.

Initially I was on a huge learning curve as I'd never used a loom this large, let alone one with a dobby or sectional beam, so I spent a couple of weeks tweaking things and playing with sample warps to get know the loom before I felt confident enough to put a real warp on.

It was with some fear and trepidation that I decided my first project would be a 'patchwork' throw, using homegrown wool I'd spun and dyed several months earlier, and a draft from Thick 'n Thin - The Best of Weavers. Remarkably the whole project went without a hitch, and I'm really pleased with the result. (It looks a bit rumpled in the photos because it's just come out of the washing machine after fulling.) Finished dimensions are 44" x 72" - just the right size for a nana-nap on the couch or some added warmth in bed on a cold winter's night.


















I've yet to try the flying shuttle set up, but that's going to have to wait a while as I want to make another patchwork throw, again using handspun and dyed wool, for a local exhibition in 2 months. Once that's out of the way and I've honed my floor diving skills (retrieving dropped shuttles!) I'll embark on my next adventure.

Eye Candy

Each summer our Guild holds a retreat and about 25 women abandon home and family for an uninterrupted weekend where they can play with fibre to their heart's content. This year the theme of the retreat was 'Dyeing with a Difference', and one of the 'different' things we did was Dartmoor Dyeing.

Dartmoor Dyeing is a little easier to do than explain, but briefly, it involves a full greasy fleece and 4 dyepots of red, blue, yellow and jade, or a mix of blue and green of some description. The greasy fleece is divided into 3 equal parts; the first of these 3 divisions is further divided into 4. Each of the 4 pieces put into a different dyepot and after simmering for about 30 minutes the fibre is removed from the pots, rinsed well, divided into 4 again. One piece of each colour is set aside as a control colour and the remaining pieces returned to the dyepots but this time to a different coloured pot to the one they originally came from; ie. one piece each of red, blue and yellow goes into the jade pot, one piece of blue, yellow and jade into the red pot, and so on. (I did say it was easier to do than explain!). They're all simmered again for 20 minutes or so, removed from the pots, rinsed and put out to dry.

The dyepots are replenished with more dye and vinegar (using the same water) and the same process is repeated with the 2nd of the initial 3 divisions; more dye replenishment and the final of the 3 divisions is done the same way. What you end up with is a feast for the eyes - 48 piles of glorious colour ...















The left column are the results from the red pot, the next from the blue, then yellow and jade.














And a close-up of 2 of the results which show the effect obtained by using a greasy fleece (in this instance, very greasy, having only been shorn the previous day). The left one was first dyed in the red pot, then in the yellow; the right one was red first, then jade. The variations in colour are the result of the greasy parts of the staple resisting the dye in the initial simmering but the drier tips taking it up well; then on the second run the grease has been boiled off and the second colour has been taken up.