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

My roof began leaking this winter, so I’ve got to go up and re-shingle it when the weather breaks. The joy of shingling a roof is only matched by root canal.

I’m trying to raise some money for roofing supplies. As usual, I’m making the fearless-and-searching in my loom stash.

If any of my readers (or their friends) need a nice, “light production” set-up, I have a sweet 45″ LeClerc 4s Nilus surplus to my needs. It’s equipped with a one-yard sectional beam with 2″ section spacing, beater weight, and a considerable quantity of heddles, including a large bundle of unused ones, factory fresh.

I’m asking $700, which is exactly what I paid for the loom in Ontario two years ago. No, I didn’t buy it new. It came from the studio of a Canadian rug restorer, and is in fine shape. The only work it needed was to replace the shaft guide pins. The originals were plastic, and had become brittle. The replacements are steel, and should last a lifetime.

The loom will include a threading hook, two LeClerc shuttles and a dozen bobbins, a pair of round lease rods, a manual, and your first project in complimentary fiber, as long as I have it “in stash.”

For an additional $300, (a 25+ percent discount) I will equip the loom with my custom-made fly-shuttle device, and supply two Steel Heddle Company mill shuttles and ten maple pirns. This makes the Nilus a sweet little blanket weaver, or a good loom for wider work. My fly-shuttle beater has variable-width boxes, so it can be made to accept either the large mill shuttles or the smaller ones commonly found from suppliers.

I can take pictures if there is interest. The loom is currently disassembled, but can be put together in about an hour. We can negotiate on delivery. I’d drive 150 miles one way if it is purchased with the fly-shuttle beater. I will also be travelling to Michigan at some point in the summer.

Thanks.

Tim

Just a quick note — the Osborne bent pack needles arrived this afternoon. They are nice, but without the “mojo” my Morris & Yeoman has. Hey, PC himself may have held the M&Y.

The needles are sharp as packaged. I find it useful to blunt them slightly. As I have a variety of grinders and diamond hones, it’s a matter of a few minutes for me to do so. Drop a note if you wish this done. Free-of-charge and such-a-deal. (The dulling is free of charge. You’ll have to pay a for the needles.)

Tim

One of my weaving friends telephoned yesterday. At a “certain age,” she’s finding work on her 60″ Glimakra Regina tapestry loom difficult. She contemplates moving to a smaller, horizontal loom. The Regina is “the rarest of the rare,” a strong two-shaft counterbalance tapestry loom not in production since 1985. This example is very complete, even including the original assembly video, and in beautiful condition. Although it has only two shafts, it has treadles spaced across the entire frame, so they are always within the weaver’s reach. It is located in Vermont.

Both the owner and I will soon be bound in “mud season,” so pictures may not be forthcoming for a week or two. I may be able to obtain some representative shots from Glimakra USA.

If you are interested in this rare find, please contact me. I’d like it to go to an appreciative weaver for a fair price to both parties. It’s a wonderful loom, and my friend could use the money towards her new purchase.

Tim

I shared the following anecdote with my friend Bob, owner of my Rug For A Midcentury Chair.

Scottish architect Charles Rennie Macintosh designed a great number of interiors, including textiles and furniture therein. As was the custom of the time, Mr. Macintosh drew his designs and took them to a cabinetmaker to be built. One design was criticised by his builder as being too delicate to be practical seating.

“It is not a chair upon which one sits. It is a chair upon which one places one’s hat,” the Scot replied.

Tim

I have an eight-year old son. I never thought I’d have any children, but Chris (Christian) came along a while ago, and we’ve had a close friendship since I first touched his hands.

When any small person holds your hand and trusts you completely, bitterness and caution fade away.

Some time ago, it was “my time” with Chris. I am now, in John Prine’s words, an “unwed father.”

I try to keep things democratic. I asked Chris what he’d rather do. “Chris, would you like to paint? Would you like to watch cartoons? Play a game?”

His reply surprised me. I had a table loom warped on the living room floor, in preparation for teaching a class. Chris said “Papa, I think I’d like to weave.”

Chris had done a few pieces at that point, but on a pot-holder loom. I explained the lifts of a 2/2 twill: 1 and 2, 2 and 3, 3 and 4 and 1 and 4. Yes, I realize the lifts I gave were for a sinking shed and the loom was a jack, but gimme a break!

I fielded a telephone call as Chris began weaving. A few minutes later, he came to the office. “Papa, I have a question.” “Ok, Chris, I can help as soon as I’m finished.” Several minutes more, “Papa, can you help?” “When I’m done, Chris.” This went on for over a half-hour. When the conversation concluded, I went to Chris’ loom. “What do you need, buddy?” “Oh, I just wanted to make the lines go the other way.” (Chris wished to reverse the twill’s diagonal)

My Best Friend,On a Swing

“Don’t worry Papa, I’ve figured out how to do it.”

Which he had.

I still spend a great deal of time wondering if I am worthy.

Tim

We’re all more or less in the soup now. We’ve been blundering along, thinking we we were doing good while doing well. The twenty-first century crashed about our ears a short time ago, and taught us all a bit about carbon-footprints, global terrorism, sustainable power and a few other things we’d rather not think about.

I am a carbon pimp. There it is, I confess. I drive a small car, turn my lights off when I leave a room, and try to conserve water, although I have seven natural springs here which supply more water than I could ever use. Half of the flow goes to the St. Lawrence, the other half to the mouth of the Connecticut River. My home is exactly on the divide between New England and Canada.

My bad reputation comes from the fact I burn coal for heat. Not foreign oil. No sustainable wood. Northern-teir Pennsylvania anthracite coal. I was reared on a farm where my family cut and burned twenty cords of wood each year. For that, I often awoke to find snow on my bedroom floor. The farm’s single toilet would freeze over.

After twenty-five years on that program, I switched. So far as I’ve noticed, not a single person has been killed defending  our supply of anthracite. Miners die every year, however, and that’s worth considering. So do workers on oil rigs and in the logging industry.

As I have some guilt about burning carbon, I’ve tried to live a balanced life elsewhere. When I was a wee lad, my parents did not own a car. The family vehicle was a Lambretta motor-scooter, which my father rode to work until it was stolen. That may have been in ‘67.

As gasoline approached four dollars per gallon last year, I had fond thoughts of the old Lambo. I’d not ridden on two powered wheels since my brother tried to end my life in a stone wall at the tender age of nine while I followed him on a “mini-bike.”

I bought one of these: An Aprilia Scarabeo 500 motor scooter.

Aprilia Scarabeo and a well-dressed weaver

I’ve not had so much fun in years. Not only is the ‘Beo’ consistent with Mod styling and Beatle Boots, but at 70 mpg, I can accomplish many of my errands and shopping for pennies. My eight-year-old son likes being collected after school on the scoot. It takes several minutes to wrap him in gloves, jacket, and helmet, but after that, we’re the Moddest, maddest father-son team on two wheels. I can fill the tank for less than a tenner and ride two hundred miles.

That’s sweet. Best fun I’ve had sitting down since discovering weaving.

Tim

If you’ve looked at the 40 pounds of steel photo below and have an eye for Things Cranbrook, you’ll notice that the Loom of Doom doesn’t have Cranbrook shafts. The four shafts mounted (and four more hanging on the shop’s wall) came from a pair of 70+ year old LeClerc looms I bought in Quebec. I think I paid too much for the Miras, but they had many usable parts. I’ve rarely seen a loom completely “used up” through weaving, but them Kay-beckers were serious, and the looms had made thousands of yards of fabric for several generations.

Sidebar: if you want a sweet fabric loom and are willing to work through the few limitations and many advantages the counterbalance system offers, consider one. (They are absolutely the fastest thing on four shafts, for one.) I’ve had more fun on my elegant Glimakra Ideal CB’s and LeClerc’s Mira and Fanny than I can tell. Because most American-pattern looms use the jack system, many US weavers look to jacks for their first loom purchase. Jacks have some real limitations. There’s often a CB out there somewhere for short money that may begin a weaving career — or offer real pleasure to the hardened veteran.

As usual, I digress. A quick check with my trusty Starrett rule (L. S. Starrett, Athol, Mass, the last bastion of American Precision and a Union Shop {highly skilled, well-paid machinists making a living wage} found at http://www.starrett.com/) told me that the 45″ Mira shafts would just clear the Cranbrook frames. A little braining told me that I could replace the bottom of the LeClerc shafts with a piece of American Ash appropriately drilled and have a lamm that didn’t need to pivot. No lamm binding issues. If I were weaving beyond eight shafts, my solution would be unworkable. On two to eight, it’s slick.

For much of my work, I prefer Texsolv heddles. They are quiet, light, and most importantly can be marked with felt pens to eliminate threading mistakes. The LeClerc shafts I salvaged came with old and excellently-made inserted-eye steel heddles. As my interpretation of PC’s shaft-switching device will come off the workbench soon, I think that I will stick with the inserts. Noise on the Loom of Doom isn’t an important issue. The major problem is that the beat keeps pushing me onto the hot radiator and making a stripe on my butt.

Ow.

Tim

View From The Office

If you’ve visited my website, you’ll know I repair and modify weaving looms, sell and support Glimakra looms, and weave rugs. I’m often asked what type of loom I recommend for rug weaving. I have seven looms in house, and have made rugs on almost all of them, with the exception of my 16s AVL production dobby. (Some things are clearly a bad idea!) A strongly-made countermarche or counterbalance loom with an overhead beater generally seems the best choice.

Some time ago,  I bought a 45″ Bexell-made Cranbrook countermarche loom in poor condition. Parts were missing and damaged, and it was obvious the loom had been “rid hard and put away wet.” My initial inclination was to use the machine for parts. Life works in strange ways, however. The gorgeous 60″ Cranbrook that was to be my “new” rug loom left “down south” for a new career with a rep weaver. The 45″ rolled into the shop.

Things weren’t as grim as first appeared. To the credit of the Bexell Bridge, Truss, and Iron Works, their design proved exceptionally durable. Their craftsmanship was careful. My loom’s joints were sound after over 35 years of hard service and neglect.

A monograph by the late Peter Collingwood (to whom all weavers owe a debt) published by Salt Lake City Guild convinced me that I should construct a warp extender. While Mr. Collingwood may be best known for his shaft-switching device, the thrust of his monograph to the SLC guild was that the warp extender contributed more to the quality of a finished piece than any of his other ideas.

Plate steel, new wood, parts from a table saw and a tractor, as well as bits cannibalized from other looms found their way onto the LoD. I adapted various features from other looms I’d used and liked.

James Krenov is one of the luminaries in furniture making of this or any century. In his books — and in also our conversations in his simple living living room and small shop in California – Jim pressed me and thousands of others to personalize our work, and to make the tools we use “our own.”

I’m happy to say I’ve accomplished my intention. I now work on a salvaged loom that functions as well as anything I’ve sat at. It’s neither shiny nor pretty. The scars of a working life are written on it — and the weaver. For all that, it’s my own.

I’ve been asked why I haven’t scrubbed the flash rust off some of the steel or applied varnish to the wood. The answer is simple: the LoD is a work in progress, a prototype if you will. I find it far more difficult to get the gumption to modify something perfectly polished and shiny. When I think the design is as good as can be, perhaps I will make it beautiful. Likely I’ll be too busy weaving.

Thanks for reading.

Tim