The Hawthorne Works

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

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

I’ve managed to obtain a quantity of pre-world war II British straight pack needles. These are fearsome objects, a full six inches long. The quality of workmanship is outstanding, as is the steel they are made of.

Visual confirmation:

I see them as useful for trussing poultry, very heavy sewing, hand-to-hand combat, or general self-defense if one rides public transportation. Me gentle Mum used to keep an old-fashioned hat pin for that purpose when she worked in New York in her salad days. These will put a hat-pin to shame. I’ve reforged several with a curve and find they work very well for darning ends into rugs at three epi. Sett tighter than that, they are too wide.

If anyone needs some, they are available at two dollars each, plus a dollar-fifty postage and packing. I can send up to three at the same shipping rate. If you’d like them curved, I’ll heat and forge them for an additional three dollars each.

Tim

I stopped at the P.O. Saturday on the way to pick up the Italian scooter. It was stalling at stop signs since last August (I infrequently encounter stop lights in my daily business. The scoot was stalling at them also.) I told the dealer it was a fuel pump malfunction. The marque is notorious for its incorrectly-tubed fuel pump, and there have been complaints from all over the scooter-riding world. The bike was at the dealer’s twice in the past, where they “could not replicate the issue.” If one wishes to deal with Italian motor vehicles, one needs patience, a strong romantic streak, and a few dozen bottles of Chianti.

Bro-bro drove it down in freezing weather last November (the dealer is minutes from his house), where it sat, untouched, all winter. Finally, I rang and asked where my bike was. “We still can’t replicate the problem. It’s not the fuel pump. We think it’s the security system. You got it wet.”

Oh, gee, I didn’t know I was only supposed to ride only on the three dry days last season. And yes, the bike has one of those little push-button security systems. This is so the it won’t get stolen from the streets of Rome. It’s an udder on a male bovine here (translation required, we’re trying to keep this PG-13), where we leave our keys in the cars in case the neighbors have an emergency.

Luckily, the recall notice on the fuel pump arrived at the dealer a day before it came here. They pulled the bike in, and did what I’d been telling them to do for eight months. The ‘Beo runs like a top now. Unfortunately, they pinched the vent line from the fuel tank fixing the pump. I found this out when I went to fill up and got sprayed with gas from the pressurized tank. This included a full shot into my eyes. I wrecked my new glasses (picked up that morning) flinching away from it. Gasoline burns skin and eyes, even if there’s no fire. Glad I wasn’t smoking.

I don’t understand this attitude. My machinist grandfather was never an “almost” sort of guy. If his work wasn’t as perfect as he could make it, he wouldn’t have been able to look in the mirror in the morning. I know many craftspeople that share the same philosophy. It’s not about money, it’s about honor, craft, and our duty to the community. It’s also about thinking about what one is doing before doing it, rather than reacting afterward.

Ok. That was a long diversion. As my fuel tank didn’t vent, I can.

The bright spots of that otherwise difficult Saturday were a magnificent rainbow that greeted me and my coffee mug in the early dawn. I hope it shows in the pictures. It was a wonderful sight.

The other nice part was obtaining  my copy of Alice Hindson’s Designer’s Drawloom at the PO. This is essentially an expanded instruction manual for a Hooper draw loom (see Luther Hooper, The New Drawloom, downloadable from www.handweaving.net in .pdf.) and some of its variants. The British and Scandinavian approaches to draw weaving are significantly different. After examining the pictures therein, I realized I could make a 45″ drawloom on the English pattern from pieces of my LeClerc Nilus and two severely battered LeClerc Miras I obtained two years ago. I’ll build Vicky as a regular loom. Although Ms. Hindson pictures a table draw loom near identical to her, it is noted she’s suited mostly to narrow warps and light work.

My brother is at rare times the voice of sanity. I was looking at the 75+ year old Mira frames and griping that they weren’t particularly shiny. (”Hammered” might be more appropriate.) I wanted to polish them up. “Ace, don’t do that. Those looms have MOJO!” Yes, they do. When I examine well-loved Scandinavian looms in various pictures, they have the Mojo of many generations in them.

I have enough bits to give the resulting Frankenloom two sectional warp beams, which is a large advantage. NilMira will have a wheelbase of 58 inches, which is happily just what Mr. Hooper recommended in his drawings. If I’m careful, the frame will support up to 36 pattern shafts, in addition to the four ground shafts. That’ll do me for a while, I think. I won’t be able to weave a proper satin on the ground shafts, but I think it will take some time before that irks me.

Here’s my copy of Ms. Hindson’s book. I recommend it highly. I paid sixteen bucks for mine — such-a-deal.

I finally understand the theory of “simple lashes” after a number of hour’s study. This is wicked powerful stuff! Although, in Ms. Hindson’s words, draw loom weaving can require an “oriental sense of time,” the deeper I delve, the more I understand the scope of it. The technique allows one to go as far as humanly possible in weaving without mechanical or electronic patterning devices. Very, very cool.

So after a day in the shop, here’s the nascent NilMira draw loom. It will be two distinct looms when finished (which is what a draw loom is, by the way.) The pattern shafts and draw unit will be mounted on the rear section — the old Mira. This will allow threading the pattern shafts without having to work through the front portion. If I ever want to convert the Nilus back to a plain ol’ 4s, it will be a matter of an hour to do so. The Nilus is dusty in the photos, but otherwise near perfect.

I’m probably barking mad doing this with little formal instruction, but I’m confident that I can make it work. Stay tuned.

Sorry for the silence in the past days. My eyes were irritated from gasoline, which made work on the computer difficult.

Tim

Another short day in the woodshop. I collected Chris from school on the motor scooter in celebration of Earth Day. I would have done so anyway, as the weather was fine this afternoon. Still, it felt good to be out in the air getting 70+ mpg on the noble steed. The snow has finally subsided to random patches on the north sides of things.

I’m thinking of starting a gang for motorcycling weavers. I know of at least three others, there must be more out there. Unlike many bikers, weavers tend to ride because of economic reasons. I was razzed down at the hardware store yesterday as being a big guy on my tiny little bike. So be it. I can sneer at Prius drivers from higher moral ground.

If you are interested in joining the gang, please reply. I’m trying to get Mary Rios’ husband John www.grafixjam.com to work us up some “colors.” It’s all very hush-hush right now, but I promise my readers will be among the first to see ‘em. The criteria for membership are, variously: 1: Being a weaver. 2. Riding some sort of two-wheeled thingy. We’re not proud, the club will also accept people who weave but know what a motorcycle is, or motorcyclists who know what a loom is. If we’re desperate, we might relax this to all people who know what a textile is.

I probably won’t do a long stint in the shop tomorrow, either. My brother is arriving with a pickup truck, and we’re going to make a dump run. For you city-slickers, this may sound horrifying. For country folk, the dump kindles fond memories. Now we have a “transfer station,” so much of the romance is gone. In my teens, Bro and I would go to the dump and find treasures. The fellow that watched the place would sort the garbage from potentially useful items, which were available for re-use. My brother found a chest full of hand-sewn 19th century quilts on one occasion, and I have a 1929 Singer Model 99 sewing machine that needed a little oil and a few kind words to reenter the job market.

Victoria’s legs came from another loom that I started to build, but which had taken a spot in the corner for lack of ambition or inspiration. My idea here is to first create a fully-functional light floor loom that can work either as an eight-shaft (settled that) workshop loom or a light draw-loom. I’m going to sort out the conventional portion first. The draw section will be connected onto Vicky’s nether regions. If you’re wondering why her wheelbase is still so short, it’s because the “stretch” hasn’t been fabricated yet. The draw portion will be a semi-independent unit. I hope to be able to design the thing so that the draw frames can be threaded while the front end is conveniently out of the way. If I had to sit deep inside a 27″ frame, I’d have precious little room between the frames to scratch (!) my nose.

Although I think back-hinged treadles are the cat’s meow, it looks like Vicky will have front-hinged ones. This will allow me to mount them off a front extension. If they were pivoted off the back, they would likely be too short to be functional.

Here she is, on day two. Neat, sweet, and petite. There’s still a lot of bracing that needs to be added.

Tim

Jeez, I crack myself up. I have to. I’d get lonely if I wasn’t talking to myself.

I bit the bullet and began project table-draw today, with my bits of the Glimakra Victoria loom. As shipped (with the comment from Ed Hall that the loom was incomplete, but it was cheap and “looked to be right up my alley”), my Victoria was supposed to be a 4s table loom. I have her predecessor, a Glimakra Pyssingen (or something like that.) The old table loom was never as popular as it ought to have been in the US, as the name ”Pyssingen” lacks poetry in English. Like other Glimakra products, the Swedish table looms are soundly built and can be used for real work. This is a refreshing difference from most other table looms, which are distressing to weave with for more than a few minutes at a time, and are a TOTAL BEAST to thread.

The hint here is that in order to deflect a warp thread, one needs a certain length of material to work with. One cannot make a loom fit in a glove-box and expect to weave anything on it.

In any case, Little Vicky’s castle has been missing since I was in college. I am completely capable of reproducing it as made, but here are my thoughts:

1: The average table loom beater is a miserable object, as are those supplied currently and in the past on Vicky and her sisters. One cannot swing on a tight arc and expect to weave good cloth. My preference is for an overslung beater, with a minimum 24″ (approximately 60 cm) arc. Therefore, the Vicky’s new castle will be 24″ high when finished, with a proper overslung beater. Her harness should be able to do something useful.

2: Jack looms are out. There are too many compromises with the jack system. If Vicky is to be resurrected, she’ll either be in the form of a countermarche or a counterbalance, and will no longer be a table loom. The draw-loom weaver’s friend is the counterbalance, but there are issues within that system. If one wants to weave on Drall pulleys, a ten-shaft tie can be a simple thing. This limits one to a few structures. A four-shaft counterbalance tie as normally worked is fast, very accurate and simple, but limits one to paired sheds. These are the 2/2 twill sheds, 1&2, 2&3, 3&4, and 1&4 on a sinking-shed loom, with tabbies on 1&3 and 2&4. To weave on a standard CB, one must look at the odd sheds, i.e: 1/3, 3/1,and other “unbalanced” structures with envy. All fourteen sheds on the CB tie were woven in the past, but by weavers with knowledge of the “tricks of the trade” on looms of a great deal longer length than are produced currently. Another option is to make Vicky’s castle to accept eight thin shafts in “parallel countermarche order.” The parallel CM is a fairly modern set-up, and has issues on a wide loom. As Vicky is only 27″ maxed, I suspect the system could work. Unfortunately, for complex structures, it still demands sixty-four ties. In the confines of a 27″ frame for a big boy, that’s a lot of string.

3: I could cut my losses, and mount Zielinski’s “shed regulator’ on four ground shafts with a counterbalance mounting. This allows all fourteen sheds possible from a 4s CM, and works faster than a Ferarri. As every thread is positively treadled up or down, there’s no wondering whether shafts have fallen. (I hate unintentional warp floats like the the plague.)

Here’s today’s work. It was short working day, as I collected Chris at 2:30. We built a ship model. 

Vicky on horses, with a part of her new uppers:

Thanks for your patience.

Tim