The Hawthorne Works

Now, I’m not the sort accustomed to having the world crashing down on my shoulders, but your posts and emails have been helpful. (Thanks Bonnie.) I had a relapse of that which stuck me in hospital last August. The medical profession claims I should have a foot or so of my large intestine removed. To hell with that. I was born on Jersey. If there’s any knife work to be done, I’ll be doing the cutting.

I rode the BMW over to my fav’rite naturopath, who wrote out a diet. We’ll see if it works. I only know that when I wanted a course of antibiotics, my GP was on vacation. I spent two days without sleep and lurched there in some pain. Things appear to have stabilized.

I’ve got lingoes, heddles, and Dralls (oh my!) for the Damask beast. With proper application, I should have some pictures soon. Thanks for all your concern, and the sustaining thoughts.

TIm

This is completely off-topic regarding looms, although there is some connection. I’ve lived this winter in a constant state of worry over finances. “The whiskey stream’s light, and the money tree’s low,” in the words of singer and poet James McMurtry.

At times, when opportunity arises, one has to take the “bull by the balls.”

This bull image is far more palpable on my end. I grew up on a farm. We kept bulls. I have a visual. It’s not a comfortable one.

I have a dream of riding a classic motorcycle east to west through Canada. I adore Canadians, and could be deeply in love with one in particular. I want, before my strength and manilhood fades, to motor through Thunder Bay, Nippising, Sault Saint Marie and all those other small, welcoming towns in our last best country on earth. If I had my druthers, I’d start up in northern Newfoundland, and “bimble” my way over to Vancouver and up into the territories. I want to say I’ve slept in Yellow Knife.

In the past three days, I searched through my finances, and purchased a 1976 BMW R 90/6 in good condition. The bike is old enough to have at least a Master’s Degree, if not a Doctorate. It has a cafe fairing, luggage bags, Napoleon mirriors, and “the right sound.” I’ve wanted one since when. Guess my convergence came this year.

She was built in 1976, as I entered fifth grade. At that point (I remember it clearly) the last of the wounded were arriving back from our military adventure in Vietnam. Disgusted with subterfuge and dishonesty, we’d just elected an honorable man by the name of James Earl Carter as our president. We didn’t understand Mr. Carter then, but through the absolute strength of his character, he has become a national treasure through his good work in diplomacy and humanitarian causes. ‘76 was another hopeful time, the Bicentennial of our nation, and as important to my family, the time that social programs loosened up to a point where we could get food stamps and a delivery of WIC cheese, eggs, milk, and boxed cereal on the farm’s doorstep weekly. That made a difference. I remember going to bed hungry prior to ‘76.

In the words of Jerry T, my kayak paddling mentor and the oldest of seven, “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.” Jerry raised  his six siblings after his father passed, and always greeted me with a ready smile on the rapids. I intend to follow his example.

Aesthetics are important. What was as important in my decision was that the gentleman who decided to pass this torch was a fellow traveller, a pilot, had a sound aesthetic, cared for his machinery, and asked a reasonable price. I didn’t tell him through our conversations about film and literature, but I’d have stayed and talked with him if he’s been offering me a clapped-out Yugo.

Here’s eye candy, the new flagship of the Warped Warriors Motorcycle Club:

Dead sexy.

Shame she’s got nil for front brakes. My genius resident wrench Evs will sort that out, I hope.

In other news, and likely more meaningful to most of my readers, I’ve designed the “drawbridge” on the damask loom, and begun the not-very-thrilling job of drilling in the bolts that will keep her frame in position. In the next version, I’ll use glued joinery on some parts of the frame, and wedges on others. For the current model, the steel bolts will allow me to modify things without having to do surgery. A prototype always incorporates compromises.

I’ll try to post pictures tomorrow. It’s been a long few days.

Best,

Tim

Late in the evening, I take a walk down the drive to the shop and engage in a little meditation with whatever project I’m working on.

I don’t usually do any work. By this time of the night, I’m spanked. As I’d like to be sent off with all ten fingers the Lord accorded me, I keep the machines quiet. (Send me off in a a hand-made Viking longboat, please, shrouded in cloth of my own creation — with a piper playing the “Garry Owen” on the war pipes. Weeping ladies a plus.)

A very talented architect I knew some years ago called this “dream time”, which I find to be a more appropriate term than the strictness of “meditation.” Geez, “meditation” sounds like they want something from a fella.

Today’s dream time led me to the conclusion that my long weaver is becoming desperately pretty. I made her beams today of jatoba, a tropical hardwood nearly as dense and intractable as granite. The wood polishes up to a firey color, and isn’t likely to wear out.

Here’s my Shadowlands bed in the same material, with panels of beeswing makore. Sorry for the poor picture, but I trust you get the idea. This is the one that nearly cost me a finger.

Here’s how the beams look “in the raw.” My girl will get her second warp beam tomorrow.

She’ll also get a fly shuttle and rotary temples. I have both items in inventory, and they will make her sweet to weave on. Go big or go home. . .

Another view, this time from the side. She’s looking very “Arts and Crafts,” which I find appropriate. I had a slot for an upright in the frame that didn’t really need to be there (a vestigal tail left over from the Mira days), so I filled it with a piece of nicely figured cherry. I don’t generally hold with cherry as a loom wood, as it’s been ruthlessly cut over, and the best stuff costs the world and offers few benefits other than its mellow color. NoMora’s material is far more sustainable, but at least she’ll have some pretty ear rings.

In other news, the first annual Weaving Down the Road meeting of the Warped Warriors Motorcycle Club is on for Labor Day! Mary Rios and hubby John have thrown their hat in the ring for the event, and will be trucking over from near MoTown. I was expecting a crowd of thousands, but we can start with three. I forgot to tell Sister Mary to bring her riding gear, as we’ll have three bikes to ride. My man Evan at Big E’s solar-powered garage has fixed the nasty, tappy valves on the ‘77 Suzuki twin, and otherwise fettled the beast. I’ll ride the Half Kaff. I figure a pair of former Harley riders may be able to handle a pair of scooters, if they’re willing to humble themselves and ride something that weighs less than a ton.

Space is filling up (very slowly) for the event, so get your dibs in! Bring your fav’rite ride and a shuttle or two. . .

Tim

This Memorial Day, my friend and shopmate Brek Jacobson showed in our nothern hills from far and flat Ohio. He and his wife Kelly were taking a belated honeymoon. I spent a year in close quarters with Brek, but had never met his love. Kelly is a hot ticket — a translator and educator, a wise, calm, soul, and a good conversationalist.

Brek and I hadn’t been face-to-face since we worked wood together in 2004. With the water, craft, and wood under the bridge, it’s no surprise we were up almost to sunrise around the fire in the front of the sauna catching up.

It was unusually cold for May, so the late hours took energy. I slept late today.

It was a wonderful experience. Brek (who is an undoubted master in wood) looked with wonder at my Cranbrook and touched the warp with sensitive hands. Although I never found the time to give a weaving demonstration, it was wonderful to feel the reverence a true craftsman feels for (I hope) another.

My long loom is becoming desperately pretty. All her battered parts from my initial discoveries have been replaced with clean new wood, chosen for strength and sweet lines.

It’s working up to be a pretty fair summer. I traded my last hot ‘n’ horny whitewater kayak for a much more sedate canoe today. As much as I’d like to be hanging it out in the “big”, I don’t think my eight-year-old buddy would take the same view. We’re going to do some canoe camping on lakes and ponds first. I’m sure as the the boy approaches his teens, he’ll surpass his Poppa in skill and daring.

Tim

Well, it’s been an exciting week. As promised, I went to buy wood last Thursday. I secured some nice, big heavy planks from Darwin the Wood Dawg, and had a great conversation with him and Doug over at Kilnworks.

Before picking up Chris Friday, I blasted out many of the parts I needed. After our weekend together, I hurried back into the shop in a flurry of energy.

The plank I wanted was behind several others, propped up against the wall. This is usual. No matter how many planks you have, the one needed is always at the back or the bottom.

I moved a piece out of the way, turned and POW!

The cant tipped down. With a true woodworkers sense of self-sacrifice, I stopped it from hitting the concrete. Unfortunately, I used my face to cushion the fall. I now have a swollen nose, two startlingly black eyes, and a side of bruised ribs.

Yeah, but you shouldda seen the other guy . . . nobody talks to my goil like dat . . . and I had to save that kid.

So, progress slowed and sleeping, breathing and coughing (I have a chest cold to boot) have been more challenging than usual. I have 90% of the frame joinery completed, and today “broke out” her lamms and treadles, and completed the drall pulley support.

Here’s some eye candy. I’m very pleased with how things are turning out. The loom’s ergonomics are really good for me, as I’ve been able to adjust things to my personal preferences.

The shop horses in the center aren’t part of the loom — just a convenient way to keep the wood from jumping up and hitting me.

I have to make the cloth and warp beam mountings, the front, back, and knee beams, complete the treadles, drall pulleys, and lift system and shafts for the back. Whew, and I thought this was going to be a quick and easy project! The loom is now seven and a half feet long, and will likely reach eight feet before completion. She ain’t yer momma’s workshop loom!

In other news, I had a remarkably pleasant and productive conversation with Becky Ashenden and Susan Conover over at the Vavstuga, www.vavstuga.com. Becky offered me a remarkable deal on a 135 cm Glimakra warp beam, and was very gracious with her advice on the long loom project. I’ve already retracted my past comments about my experiences there, but it was pleasant to know that my first impressions were without basis. It’s good to be positively surprised!

Much to do. More later.

Tim

I’ve been busy in the shop on the NilMira. After further study of draw loom design from the Continent and Sweden it appears that neither the Mira or the Nilus will be part of the game. They have given me valuable dimensions and insight into the mechanics of things, so we must part ways. That means the Nilus will once again be for sale (the loom is unmodified from its original form, and is still one of the nicest of the 4s Jack looms.)

Using the Jack system on a drawloom has some limitations I don’t want to accept in the long term. That being said, the final model will be fully capable of reproducing Hooper’s “New Drawloom,” or Hindson’s “Designer’s Drawloom” which used the jack system for the ground, and also anything done on a counterbalance or countermarche. Any countermarche can be rigged as a jack very simply, so it’s not a large problem. The final design will (I hope) be able to make anything a Scandinavian loom can weave also.

 As neither the Nilus or the Mira will be a significant part of my design, I’m holding a contest for a new name for the Hawthorne Drawbeast.

The winner will recieve a useful shuttle in almost new condition. This is an essay contest, so write as if you wanted a perfectly good shuttle, and post ‘em on this blog. As much as I appreciate the private emails, traffic has been slow here, and I’ve got to spark things back up.

The Drawbeast is looking more Medieval, as she now has most of her castle and the bulk of her drawbridge. I’ve settled on Hooper’s design for the drawbridge, as it is fast and versatile when compared to individual draw handles. That being said, if I find the system flawed, I can revert to the classical system in an hour or so of shop time.

Some eye candy follows. I’m driving down to visit my Wood Dawg Darwin tomorrow, where I expect to find enough planks to finish off.

Here’s a side view:

Sorry for the clipping, there’s only so far back I can move in the shop.

Here’s a three-quarter view from the other side:

One can see clamps stuck all over the beast. I lost the bulk of them today, as I completed a lot of joinery. You may ask why I use this method of working from mock-ups or prototypes. The first is that drawing a item in three dimensions takes as much time or more than building an item. The other thing is that unless one draws in full-scale, it’s difficult to see the relationships between various parts. Some of the clearances on the loom are tight, and would be difficult to reconcile on paper.

Here’s a top view of the comber boards. As made, “The Drawbeast” will allow 40 pattern shafts. After checking the dimensions, all 40 shafts could be woven on the Hooper-Hindson Designer’s draw loom. If one wishes to use long-eye heddles and weave the Swedish way, the first eight pattern shafts cannot be used. Still, 32 pattern shafts are a bunch. I designed on wide tolerances, and I expect this could be expanded to 60 British-style shafts or 48 Swedish without modifying the frame.

Did I mention drilling holes precisely is one of the biggest challenges of loom construction? Here are 80 very nicely done ones. The drill drifted off on one, which I patched. I’ll give another shuttle to anyone who can locate it from the unretouched photo.

I made significant progress on the draw system today, but photos will have to wait. It’s been a long day.

Mum sent a postcard from France. She’s been to Monaco, Cannes, and is at last report in a chilly chateau in the Bas Alps. Not bad for a former hippie lady.

Tim

Over a year ago, my favorite source for hard-wearing work pants (aka “Trou”) dried up. The Canadian firm that made ‘em stopped.

I was an anti-jeans person for over twenty years. Working on “the Hill,” cotton isn’t the fabric of choice. I had a vintage collection of wool whipcord carefully purchased at various second-hand stores, and many pairs of shorts which I wore until scraping ice off bare legs became too painful.

I went through a transitional period wearing “Carhartts”. Duck weave (a form of canvas) dries better than Jeans twill, and the pants hold up. At some point, the fashion-conscious discovered the brown pants, and the price shot up. Sorry, but this frugal Vermonter won’t pay suit-clothes prices for work gear.

If you really want the top, and cost isn’t an object, I suggest Filson clothes from Seattle, Washington. Made in the US and supported without reservation. My friend Commander Putt RMG visited their factory wearing his 20 plus year old Guide vest.

Upon entering the factory, the receptionist asked if they could strip him and repair his tatters.

At the end of the tour, they gave him back the vest, completely rebuilt. Filson’s motto is “Might as well have the best.” Filson gear is the best, and so is their attitude.

On a bimble through the coastal range of California, I came across Bailey’s Logging Supply.

Before we get into an environmental brouha about logging, let me say this. I despise corporate logging. I spent six very demanding years working for an environmental organization. My knees remind me of this every damp day. Being a wood person, I also know a number of people who make their living through cutting trees. Logging is a skilled, brutally demanding occupation, where danger is always close. One only needs to hear the evil sizzle of a tree “barber chairing” once to drive this home. One friend who works alone took a rogue tree in the face, and lay in the woods six hours in sub-zero weather before being discovered. Another friend from the Forest Service recently died of pleurisy because he took a commercial flight home after battling the fires in Montana, which is the equal of smoking about ten packs a day.

We remember you, Eric, tall and proud.

If you are truly an environmentalist, don’t spike a tree. Spike a corporate headquarters. The fellows (and an increasing number of women) who work in the woods are merely trying to feed their families, and have a hard go of it in the best of circumstances.

None other than Henry David Thoreau observed of the cutters, “They are reckless, generous, and social.”

Anyway, Bailey’s is the sole distributor of “Wild Ass” Jeans.

This is what one of my tattered pairs look like:

They come with suspender buttons. Gitcha some “spendies” to go with your new trou, and you’ll be living large.

www.baileysonline.com

For historical references, you might read Tall Trees, Tough Men, by Robert E. Pike. Pikey lived just down the road here. A good and vivid writer.

Tim

I always get a little hot when anyone in high government  weaves — it is so rare. Canada has a long tradition of supporting hand skills, but our neighboring Kay-becker the Hornarable Oscar Beriau went well beyond that. As the Canadian Minister for Agriculture, he published several books on hand weaving (which are worth a read) and apparently would wander throughout Quebec City with a little notebook sketching out drafts.

These were gentler days — one could run headlong into a passer-by and get away without a pummeling by explaining one was helping the commonwealth through teaching hand-crafts.

Oscar B has my vote as today’s swanky fish. He was a snappy dresser, too.

http://oscarberiau.com/

Tim

Sorry for the silence recently. At times, I get blue and find it difficult to write. The up-side to being manic-depressive is getting a hell of a lot done on the upswing.

I’ve been pursuing the drawloom project, in between attempting some spring clean-up. As the grass will be up soon, I half purchased/half traded into an International Harvester Cub Cadet lawn tractor almost my age. As my last lawn tractor was a modern vintage Sears model which rarely ran without needing parts, I traded it in on the old CC. The 60’s vintage lawn tractor is built with the directness of a hammer. I’m confident that I can rebuild it for another forty or so years of service.

The tractor was built in an era when things were supposed to be purchased once. How many old Waring “Blendors” have you seen at garage sales which still function? How about old “Frigidaires,” Singer sewing machines, or any other item made to a standard and not a price? If the world is to heal from its current ills, perhaps we should start making things to last longer than it takes to pay off their respective credit card bills.

It’s always fun preaching to one’s choir.

Making to a standard is the way to go, but I’m finding this increasingly difficult. One of my favorite hardware stores closed its doors last fall. They had bins of bolts, fittings, steel rods: many the raw materials I require on a daily basis. I can source these materials on the internet, but then I need to wait a week or two and pay punishing shipping charges. If I made a hundred looms a year, it would pay to buy a case of bolts. As it stands, at times I need a bolt or two. Luckily, there is one good hardware store left in the area. I stopped there and purchased five bolts and five nuts today. While walking to the bins, I was asked five times if I needed help. That’s nice. The business referred to is E. M. Brown and Sons, in Barton, Vermont. Great service, a magnificent, rambling Victorian building, and some pretty good jeans at better prices than Wally World. They stock dog food, horse oats, cattle feed, nuts, bolts, nails, shingles, lumber and Harry, who is a pretty fair guitar picker and sings like a homesick angel — if your idea of an angel is Doc Watson. (That’s Doc Watson, the late Merle Watson, and the Frosty Morning Band. If you haven’t heard them, check ‘em out. I always cry when I hear Will the Circle Be Unbroken.)

E. M. Brown holds a cook-out in the parking lot each summer, where you can get a complimentary hot-dog, balloons for the kids, and listen to Harry play. I’m no evangelical, but I do admire a good flat-picked bluegrass guitar or claw-hammer banjo, and I figure one hot dog a year won’t kill me. Listening to Harry sing makes me happy. He proves that you don’t need to be pretty to be pretty good.

Back in the latter part of the Hippie era, for lack of television, Bro-Bro and I would tune into WOR radio, Poughkeepsie, NY. On Tuesdays, they would have a Bluegrass programme. On other nights, they would play Fibber McGee and Molly, The Shadow,and others. It’s not surprising I’m out of pace with Ipods and MP3. I’m only 45, and I wonder if it’s normal to feel so out-of-place.

There’s another local hardware store. They have a vast selection of garden gnomes. They also have a shiny, modern, well-lighted building. The minute I need a garden gnome, I’ll visit them.

I won’t even go into the problems with my local wood yard. I prefer to trade with my fav’rite Short-Haired Hippie, Darwin. Unfortunately, Darwin’s business is a piece away, and I can’t justify spending a half-day on the road to buy a single plank. I’d love it if I could. Darwin has a heart for wood. His business is Kilnworks in North Haverhill, NH. Don’t look for them on the web, as they’re barely there. Just take the turn to the airport, then another right. Look for piles of wood at the south end of the runway before the school. He suppies reliable wood, and plenty of soul. He’ll flip through the whole pile to help you find your plank, or even drive you up to “the barn” if you can’t find what you want near the airport. Good stuff.

In any case, I recieved my copy of Becky Ashenden’s Dress Your Swedish Drawloom from Joanne and Ed over at www.glimakrausa.com this week. As It was their last copy on VHS, I bought it for half-price. It’s a very well-done video. The pace and style of this one is very clear, although it would be nice if it included a printed version of the drawdowns.

After going through the video (which took several days, with finger on the rewind button), NilMira went through several mutations. Seeing the differences between “harness draw” and “shaft draw” made it obvious that a single loom can be prepared to do both. The shaft draw system is much simpler, the harness draw more powerful. In the end, it’s all weaving. Some threads go up, others remain down. The up or down of things regulates what we see in the textile.

I have a number of mortises to sink, some laps to make, and lots of holes to drill. Despite being a mechanically simple operation, the drilling is what worries me most. It has to be done right. My pocket is distressingly thin right now, but I should drive to Darwin’s wood yard and secure a few more planks. Mira is disappearing under the crush of the draw modifications, and I’d feel better if I replaced some of her more distressed pieces.

NilMira is a true “Bitsa.” This term follows our motorcycling motif, as it was applied to Norvins and other Brit cycles assembled on the off side of a dumpster (British term “skip”) by “blokes in boiler suits.” Wot’s yer bike?” “She’s a Bitsa. Some bitsa this, some bits o’ that.”

Let’s celebrate the “fitters.”

Here’s Nilmira in her current configuration.  She’s going along well, with a strong Scandinavian flavor. Oscar Beriau, forgive me.

Oi.

Tim

It was a Chris day today. At eight, he’s savvy, but measured in his speech and polite. He likes dining out, good conversation, and has an eye for the young ladies.

They have an eye for him too. What’s not to like? He’s a sensitive, stylish guy with a cool bike.

I proudly name him as the youngest recognized Warped Warrior. Not only does he weave (and understands fairly complex structures), he rides. No dirt-biker, he. As his heritage is mostly European, he tends toward Grand Prix. That’s good, as his bike is GP style.

Cute as a button, no? Behind that ferocious scowl of concentration, I mean. Believe me, it’s hard to ride those slick racing tires on a rutted dirt lane.

A very short shop day today. The fellow from the electric company knocked on the door by a few days ago (the advantages of a local outfit) and said that they would be replacing a pole up the road which broke under the snow . No electricity from nine ’till noon. In the remaining two hours before collecting Chris, I sorted out the warp and back beams on NilMIra.

Sometimes, we get stuck in bad thinking. As I was fitting out the two warp beams on the loom, I had an obstinate idea that both should be sectional beams. I clamped things up, and found that there was no way the system would work in the space allowed. I had to reconsider my ideas. Another paradigm shift.

In fact, one can warp from one beam to another or even from one loom to another. I’ve done this in classes, where time prohibits everyone winding an individual warp. If one makes a fixture to keep two looms aligned to one another (which can be done in twenty minutes, from four “two by fours” and a few screws, a teacher can sectionally wind a long warp on a “mother” loom and donate it under near perfect tension to all the gathered chicks. I’ll explain this and photograph it the next time I use the technique. NilMira can have one sectional and one plain beam

This solved my warping conflicts on NilMira. I have a very old, round-turned beam that I’ll repair the glue joints on. I need to make some “beam-heads,” or “flanges” to complete the system. I’ll picture those also. It’s much simpler constructing them for a round beam than the usual hexagonal one.

Here’s NilMira with her two warp beams and two back beams. The rearmost beam stands 1/2″ (13 mm) above the front one. This keeps the ground warp and pattern warp from abrading one another.

This is how they look from the back of the loom:

More soon. I’ve roughed out the wood to make the draw protion of NilMira. I expect things are going to become very exciting soon. I need to raise about $200 to purchase the steel to make the draw frames. As we’re in the “Great Recession” cash is short. I wonder how our grandparents got by.

Cowboy up all, I guess.

Tim