Additional Tips for Set-In Sleeves

To say that I've spent a lot of time on this blog talking about set-in sleeves in the context of late medieval costuming would be an understatement. As I worked on the sleeves for a new chemise, however, it occurred to me that there are a few items about sleeves after patterning that might be helpful tips for those who are still new to or having trouble with their sleeves. The easiest way for me to do this was via photo examples.

How I Dress for Cold Weather Events

In my neck of the woods, we can expect the possibility of a cool weather event between October and April. (Though that’s definitely not a guarantee- Midwest weather is fairly unpredictable.) It’s important to pay attention to weather forecasts heading into the weekend, because being unprepared for the weather is one sure-fire way to ruin an event. When I think back about events I was miserable at, in many cases it was because I was dressed too lightly.

Planning Your Garb Projects

I've been feeling lately that when it comes to making garments, I tend to go a bit on autopilot. I have a method that works that I'm fairly adept at, and while there's nothing wrong with that (practice makes perfect, as they say), it can get stale. It can also make it harder to discover better methods. Even a rut that's working well is still a rut. This has me thinking about the overall processes we use to go from not having a garment to having one. In recent years, I've seen the value in planning the high-level vision of my wardrobe, so it makes sense that there should be a second layer of planning below that- the planning involved within any given clothing project.

Hand-Finishing a Garment

I, like many modern medieval sewers, often use my sewing machine to sew the pieces of my dresses together. These are referred to as the "construction" seams, and are, for the most part, considered "non-visible" since the thread used for these seams is not seen. While it's possible to sew and entire dress by machine (construction and finishing), this doesn't provide the hand-made quality that gives the garment a medieval character. So once the garment is assembled into its raw form, whether by machine or by hand, I will do most of the rest of the work, the finishing, by hand.

Girdling Your Skirts, Early 15th Century Style

The early 15th century seems to have had a dual personality when it came to skirt length. On the one hand, pooling skirts were quite vogue, and fashionable for any woman who could afford to have her gown made with the appropriate skirt length. On the other hand, this was an era in which many women performed any number of laborious tasks including housekeeping, artistic pursuits, weaving, and general labor. For these tasks, pooling skirts would have been ridiculous. But many of these women had a limited number of gowns in their possession, so it was not feasible to have gowns with pooling skirts and separate gowns with shorter working skirts.

The compromise, therefore, was to girdle long skirts when needed, reducing them in length when work was the order of the day. The manner, or rather manners, in which they did this likely varied from woman to woman, town to town, etc., resulting in a mixture of methods shown in contemporary artwork.

Video Tutorial: Early 15th Century Horned Veil

The other day I was goofing off with my headdress stash (which I do a pretty fair amount of), when I came across a way of pinning a veil around a shaped foundation piece that resulted in a closer representation of early 15th century veiling than some of my previous attempts without needing to use more than one veil. After a bit more experimentation, I believe I have something useful in sharing, if still not entirely perfect or "accurate". The best way for me to share this is obviously video format, so let's start with that:



Before getting into some source references, let's get the technical details out of the way. The rectangular veil is 27" x 34" and is a mid-light-weight linen (probably 3.5oz). I've shared the horns before, but here's the post where I first shared it, and you can see that I've come a long way!

I referenced that the look was akin to Rogier van der Weyden's "Lady Wearing a Gauze Headdress" (circa 1435), so it makes sense to start with that one (below). There are, obviously, some differences, but as I said in the video, using a larger veil and playing around with where you are pinning might bring the look even closer to this example.

"Lady Wearing a Gauze Headdress", Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1435

After reviewing my video, though, I was struck by how closely my version ended up being to another of van der Weyden's examples- the female donor in his 1445 "The Crucifixion" triptych (below). In fact, pulling that image up, and comparing to what I was able to create, I am 80% sure that something like my technique is at play. Note the wrinkling of the veil both around the base of the foundation, but also over the top. The horizontal width of the veil in comparison to her shoulder width. The oddness of the draping at the back- something like a fold, rather than a free-flowing hemmed edge.

Detail from "The Crucifixion" (triptych) by Rogier van der Weyden, 1445.

Some examples found in the more allegorical or biblical scenes painted by the early Flemish masters, such as "The Nativity" by Robert Campin, 1420, (detail below), give the very clear impression that some veiled styles used a single veil worked in more than one direction to create a head covering. In the example below, the midwife's assistant, Salome (an Apocryphal inclusion to the nativity story), wears what appears to be a large veil pinned into place from the back around the foundation pieces, then hiked up (rather than flipped all the way back over like mine) to cover the top in messy folds. The bottom of the veil still drapes at the back. If I had a long enough veil, I think this one would be fun to attempt.

Detail from "The Nativity", Robert Campin, 1420

Additionally, there are a handful of examples in Des cleres et nobles femmes (BL MS Royal 20 C V, after 1403), including this one below (sorry about the quality), that show layers of draping between the dog ear corners and the back, consistent with what this method produces. The veil size here is smaller than what I show in the video.

Detail from BL MS Royal 20 C V, fol. 135v.

There's also an example from Thebais and Achilles (BL MS Burney 257, circa 1405.) below with a soft draping across the forehead, between the horns, in keeping with what I'm achieving. The fact that these more curved drapes were being depicted gives hope for the plausibility of this kind of recreation technique.

Detail from BL MS Burney 257, fol. 87v.

As always, I encourage you to not just take my word for it. Experiment on your own with what you have and keep an eye out in the period record for examples to emulate. And, above all, have fun!

Creating a Sleeve Pattern - A Prototype Method

Each month I'm presenting a new tutorial on a medieval skill from various types of textile-related crafts. The purpose is two-fold. First, it will allow me to locate, study, and try a variety of new techniques I might otherwise overlook, and second, it's an easy way to get information out there about skills that other people might be looking for or find helpful. This month, I present Creating a Sleeve Pattern.

If you haven't been playing along, I'd recommend starting with my last post before going through this tutorial.

We left off last week with starting to look at the fundamental concepts of a sleeve that's drafted to fit your bicep properly, and to account for the casual nature of your medieval wear. This week, I'm going to walk you through the method that I created to account for those considerations. This method is a combination of the loose simple method and a stricter, plotted modern sloper method.

I'd like to sincerely thank His Excellency, Master Cellach MacChormach, for patiently walking me through the method of sleeve drafting he's been using, and taking each of my challenges in stride. It was his guidance that helped me step back from my doubts to arrive at the method outlined below.

Before we proceed, I want to make it clear that the method presented below is currently prototypical in nature. I have tested it on three adults for good measure, but we are all different, and you may experience something that completely discounts everything I've worked out. There will always be exceptions that I can't account for. My purpose here is to show you a method that I'm comfortable with, that so far is working for me, and makes sense to my mind. I encourage you to put it to the test and tell me what issues you have with it. That's the only way we can all work together!

As I mentioned in my previous post, small armholes are going to be the rule of the day for this. You'll want the hole as small as you can make it without it pulling as you move or hurting to get it into place (such as if your bicep was too large to comfortably fit through.) I start my armscye at the same size as my bicep, then trim what's in the way. Err on the side of a smaller hole.

I want to acknowledge, one more time, that there are period styles that require a large armscye, but when we're looking at the average cotte or kirtle styles, a small armscye appears to be more typically favored. At least in the imagery. So let's all consider the possibility that larger armholes are the exception, rather than the rule.

Detail from Rogier van der Weyden's Seven Sacraments Altarpiece, showing a small armscye. Note the bunching in the underarm particularly, indicating that the armhole sits in her armpit, rather than below it.

You should wear your assembled garment (or a mockup) with your established armscye in order to take your measurements. Anytime the measurement instructions line up with a section of your armscye, use the approximate position of the sleeve attachment seam as your start/end point. It is extremely important that your measurements correspond to the position of the seam, otherwise you will get fit issues.

I want to stress that this pattern will only work for garments that share the size and positioning of the garment you used to measure. If any of the points of connection from the sleeve to the body are in a different location, something may go askew. So you need to do this process for every unique garment pattern you use. Or, you can create a standard "base" pattern for your garb, along with this sleeve pattern, and simply adjust all the other details of the style as needed, leaving the sleeve and armscye intact as-is.

What we're aiming for here is the equivalent of a "body block" style pattern for our arms. We are creating a pattern that is independent of any style, so as you're making it, think "fitted", rather than "early 14th century sleeves would have...." Once you have the pattern, you've got a basis for whatever stylistic changes you want to make. You'll already have in your pattern the shape of your arm to work around.

You'll need the following measurements:

• Long Arm Length: from your shoulder to your wrist over your elbow with your arm bent at a 90 degree angle
• Elbow Length: from your shoulder to your elbow
• Bicep Length: from your shoulder to the widest point on your upper arm (flex 'em if ya got 'em.)
• Underarm Length: from your wrist to the base of your armpit with your arm held straight up. The base point is the position of the sleeve attachment seam on the center side seam of your garment.
• Bicep Width: around your upper arm at the widest point
• Elbow Width: around your elbow bent at 90 degrees
• Wrist Width: around your wrist. If you want a sleeve without buttons, you can measure around your hand instead. Some people can fit their hands through their wrist sizing, others can't- gauge for yourself.
• Armscye Length: around the arm hole of your garment, measured where the seam will be.
• Fleshy Arm Measurement: Take a look at your arm in the mirror. If you've got plump arms, it's possible that you carry that pretty close to your elbow. If you're lean, you might have a noticeable bulge in the middle that shrinks rapidly well above your elbow. We will account for this particular element of your arm by measuring at least one point on the upper arm between the widest point and the elbow. Your elbow should be bent at 90 degrees for this.

NOTE: We are going to draft without seam allowance. You can add that onto your pattern when you're all done. I find that adding the seam allowances during drafting increases the chance for the sleeve to not fit correctly.

To draw out your pattern, you'll need:

• A yard stick
• A t-square, quilting template, or any tool you have to create perpendicular lines
• Measuring tape
• At least one color marker or pen. My preference is to have two colors of Sharpie on hand
• If you have a sleeve curve tool, grab that too. It's not necessary, though.
• A large piece of paper. I use a roll of newsprint from IKEA. It needs to be wide enough to fit the top of your sleeve, perhaps about 20" minimum.

Start by drawing the Long Arm Length as a straight vertical line in the center of your paper.

Create long, perpendicular, horizontal guidelines at the top and bottom.

On the bottom line, center your Wrist Width plus .5" of ease.

Measure down from the top to your Bicep Length and mark it. Create a perpendicular line here of your Bicep Width plus 1" of ease.

Measure down from the top to your Elbow Length and mark it. Center a perpendicular line here of your Elbow Width plus .5" of ease.

Now measure up from the wrist to the Underarm Length and mark it. Create a perpendicular line here of your Bicep Width plus 1" ease.

You now have the Sleeve Head Depth marked with the line at the very top and the line at your Underarm Length. Do not be surprised if it looks very shallow. If your measurements are less than 1" apart, that may be an indication that the armhole is too low in your armpit. Consider raising it up 1" at the least.

Measure the Sleeve Head Depth to find the center. Draw a horizontal line (parallel to your other width lines) the length of your Bicep Width plus 1" ease, centered. This will be your Curve Axis guideline. You can use a different color for this to keep from getting the lines confused if you need.

Using a tape measure (or flexible ruler or measured piece of string), arrange the Armscye Length on the Curve Axis guideline. The endpoints should also be on the guideline at the ends. The curve should not cross either of the sleeve head boundary lines (top or bottom), but should touch both. That touching connection shouldn't be less than 1" long.. If you can do that only if your endpoints fall shorter than the Bicep Width, consider opening your armhole 1"-2" more.


We're going to make the curve symmetrical, but keep in mind that this may be something you'll want to troubleshoot at a later date, when you're more comfortable with sleeve drafting. This curve isn't arbitrary-every variation to the line changes the fit of the sleeve. This is more than what I can go into here.

If you can't get the curve to fit in the established depth (and don't worry- I would expect that most people can't), add 1/4" to both ends of the axis guide at a time, slide the ends of the tape measure to the new ends of the guide, and readjust the curve until it fits. If you have to go over 1/2" on both sides, continue stretching the width out on only ONE side. This will create an integrated gusset. Note that you might end up with a weird triangly bit once the sleeve is sewn into the tube, and you will need to fiddle with it in the armhole to avoid creating a "pocket" on the back.

If you have a sleeve curve tool, you can use it now to clean up the curve established with your tape measure.

Before moving on, remeasure the whole curve. It needs to match your Armscye Length.

With all this established, we can now begin to form the bicep using the guides we already have in place. First, connect the Curve Axis guideline endpoints to the respective endpoints on the Underarm line.

These triangles form an integrated gore that allows the sleeve to flare out from your bicep to the armscye. If you ended up moving the endpoint out farther than .5" on both sides, they probably look a bit ridiculous. Don't worry, these are just guides to where, mathematically, the seam wants to go. When we correct the line later on for a more organic seam, we'll ease the gore into the bicep.

Connect the Underarm endpoint to the Bicep Width endpoint. (This is going to be a straight line.)

Continue down to the elbow, and finally to the wrist.

Now, I'm not made of boxes, and I'm pretty sure you aren't either. So while these lines get us mostly to the shape we want, it isn't quite right. That's what the Lower Forearm measurement is for.

Take your Fleshy Arm Measurement and add .5" of ease. You'll use that as a width guide. You can measure down from your shoulder to get exact placement, or just eyeball it. You may discover that your line falls really close to the funnel-like guideline. If that's the case, it's up to you if you want to make any adjustments. Even if your measurements fall inside the guides you've already drawn, you should make this forearm adjustment. If it falls more than 1.5" inside, however, you may want to remeasure (or remeasure your bent Elbow Width). We're creating a fitted sleeve, so if it's possible to remove bulk, we should.
Reconnect the lines as needed.

Lastly, smooth out your lines to remove any angles and create a more natural shape. (If you've got another color pen or marker on hand, now's a good time to switch.) Up by the gores, ease the line into the Bicep Width marked at the Bicep Length point, favoring a concave curve.

You now have a sleeve pattern that isn't completely arbitrary, but also didn't require an advanced math degree to create!

Now, I'm leaving the forearm alone. This is something you'll want to adjust on your body when you do a sleeve mockup. Since the bottom of your sleeve pattern is based somewhat on the measurement you took with your arm bent, it's possible that the forearm is too long. Once you've got it on, focus particularly on how the sleeve fits between your straight and bent arm. If there's still a lot of extra fabric below the elbow after you bend your arm, you'll want to take some of that away. In addition, you will probably want to adjust the seam placement if you're adding buttons, but that's a tutorial for a different day.

TESTING

I performed this method on three different arms, mine, my husband's, and my mother's. Here are the three patterns:

From left to right: my mom's, my husband's, and mine.

I discovered on my mothers that she required a larger armscye than we originally thought due to the nature of the connection between her arm and back. While I was able to stick with something closer to 3.5" larger than my bicep for my pattern, she has to go closer to 4.75". My husband's armscye sits squarely at 6.5" larger than his bicep. So while I had hoped to see some standardization here, it looks like individual physiology is the real determining factor. If I did another pattern for my mom, I think I would start the flaring for the gores a little lower than her Bicep Length line to account for her physical shape. As it is, though, the first draft pattern works, even if there's room for some finessing.

We also found that my mother's secondary upper arm measurement was smaller than her bent elbow. We adjusted the pattern, so you can see there's a bit of a jog from her bicep to the elbow. In the fitting, she didn't feel that, and visually, it wasn't noticeable. In fact, she had a very nicely fitted elbow pocket, and I wonder if that was in part because of that adjustment.

The length was very good on mine and my mother's- just a little too long. On my husband's, however, the fit below the elbow was pretty large and longer. If I had to take a guess as to the specific reason that happened (again, already knowing that it may be too long due to the nature of the measuring), I would say it was because he was subconsciously flexing his bent arm since it was under scrutiny. He did say, however, that the fit was comfortable, and I'd venture to guess that he would actually hate to have it too much tighter.

I've wanted to add sleeves to my linen short cote (which I've never shown because it's hideous, but it's a supportive cote in a single linen layer), so I sewed my sleeve mockup into that to test the fit. I would call it a success. Note that I did not adjust the pattern at all- this is the mockup produced directly from my pattern draft.

At first, I was worried that the bicep was too loose, but as I moved, I saw that it was a great fit, conforming to my upper arm shape very well regardless of the position I held it. I experienced no uncomfortable pulling or bunching as I moved, and I had no limitations. I see in these photos the same type of bunching shown in the period image at the top, and while I know that's indicative in the modern world of the armscye being a bit too small in my armpit, I'm jazzed to see that I can recreate the look as I expect to.

What I'm most excited to see so far with this method is that establishing the boundaries of the sleeve head depth makes it actually easier to see the need for the flaring gores. I was interested in particular to see the radical difference between the nearly non-existent gores on the smaller bicep-to-armscye ratio as compared to the larger one on my husband's sleeve. These were all created within the perimeters of the method, and additionally, can just as easily be adjusted without breaking the rules should a larger or smaller armscye be needed.

If you give this method a try, please comment below and let me know how it worked for you. Is there an issue that came up for you that I didn't account for? Did it work perfectly? Please let me know so I can make these instructions better! 

[Addendum 2/15/2015: It is crucially important that your armhole fits before you proceed. That might mean that the hole is several inches larger than your bicep. While you want it to be small, there is such a thing as too small. Look for areas where it pulls and pools as you move your arm around. The biggest culprits are going to be the front (where you would put a dart if you were creating a modern garment) and the armpit. I also want to point out again that a pattern created with this method will only work for armholes that match the one you patterned it for. When it doubt, re-pattern just to be sure.)

Baltic-Style Pick-Up Inkle Weaving, Cont.

At RUM last weekend, I had the opportunity to learn a bit more about Baltic-Style Inkle Weaving from Lady Kateline Eliot. I think it's always a great idea to take classes offered by others that cover topics or crafts that I've learned on my own, to give myself the chance to find out more or see the topic from a different perspective. I'm really glad I did in this case.

For the most part, Kateline reinforced what I'd learned. (It's a great feeling knowing you're not on a page all by yourself!) She also mentioned three things about the Baltic Style that I either did not previously know, didn't really cover in my own tutorials, or were different than how I'd understood the technique.

I had the chance to speak with Kateline before leaving to get a bit more clarification from her on the item that was really different from my experience, and I walked away incredibly inspired to start up a new weave and address my three notes for myself.

Please consider these three observations to be additions to my Baltic-Style Pick-Up Inkle Weaving tutorial.

1. Pattern threads are arranged in such a way that they come in paired sets (each set contains a heddled and unheddled pattern thread), PLUS a final single pattern thread (instead of a full pair) at the end. That final, single thread allows for the range of patterns that are possible with the technique. If you didn't have that final pattern thread, you wouldn't be able to create a symmetrical circle, for instance. This also means that the total number of pattern threads will always be an odd number in the Baltic-Style method.

2. Technically speaking, it doesn't really matter whether it's your heddled or unheddled pattern threads that are in the up position when you start your pattern manipulation. You're going to be manipulating the pattern threads anyway, so there's no real difference between the sheds when you get right down to it. It DOES matter, however, if you'd prefer to save the work and trouble of always needing to manipulate on every weft pass. [NOTE: In the comments below, Herb noted from experimentation that the threads could appear more "suppressed" in their form when they are pulled from their natural positions. So while it might not technically matter, there may be an aesthetic advantage to not having to manipulate the natural up or down position of the threads.]

Because your total number of pattern threads is an odd number, when they are warped, there will be an even number of pattern threads on one shed and an odd number on the other. This exactly coincides with the way grid patterns are arranged.

Pink squares represent pattern threads. Either the even or the odd row could be the heddled row.

If you are creating your own pattern and you have a design in mind, establish the color changes on the chart first. Then, look at the pattern and determine which rows are arranged to take advantage of the odd row and which take advantage of the even row. (It may or may not be immediately clear.)

In this pattern, I created an arch design. The pale pink squares represent the threads I would need to pick up, and the gray squares represent the dropped threads. The dark pink squares show where threads are not manipulated out of their natural positions.

If you're not trying to create a particular pattern, and are starting from scratch without a clear goal in mind, you can set up your chart with the odd and even rows marked (place dots on the squares of any threads that would be naturally up on that row), and build your pattern around that.

The circles represent threads that are currently up on that row.

There may be areas of your pattern that simply do not conform to the odd/even pattern, and that's okay- you just want to establish which shed is the best to start with for the least amount of manipulation throughout the majority of the pattern.

3. In my (albeit limited) experience with the Baltic-style method, I have yet to experience an issue where the background threads interfere with areas of pattern that are meant to look like solid pieces. This was not the case for Kateline, however, so I was prompted to talk this over with her and to look into this when I got home.

Generally speaking, the thicker pattern threads should fill out over the background threads, concealing them. (This is the primary reason you need thicker pattern threads.) It may be the case, however, that the difference in thread thickness between background and pattern is not significant enough and/or the contrast between your colors is so strong that the background colors "poke through", disrupting the look of the design. If you're looking at your piece and seeing your background in areas that should be solid pattern, you might want to experiment with adjusting your tension first. If that doesn't change your results, experiment with dropping those background threads. This only makes sense within the solid areas, so don't drop all the backgrounds- just the ones that are interfering. Remember that it's the background threads that are forming the foundational weave. You don't want to manipulate those willy-nilly, or your finished band won't hold together as well as it should. If you're not seeing any background color in your solid pattern areas, don't manipulate the background threads at all.

I'm excited to have had the chance to look into Baltic-Style Pick-up inkle weaving again to learn more and further understand why the technique works the way it does. I started a narrow band using white and dark pink (crochet cotton) really just to help me wrap my mind around these concepts. I'm thinking of using it specifically for part of the kokoshnik portion of a new early Slavic veil I'm assembling to add to my headdress arsenal for teaching. Or my daughter could claim it, as she does with anything I make containing pink.

Tying a Turk's Head Knot

Each month I'm presenting a new tutorial on a medieval skill from various types of textile-related crafts. The purpose is two-fold. First, it will allow me to locate, study, and try a variety of new techniques I might otherwise overlook, and second, it's an easy way to get information out there about skills that other people might be looking for or find helpful. This month, I present Turk's Head Knots.

In planning out my latest bag project, I made a note that I wanted to use turk's head knots on the tassels hanging at the base of the bag. This meant, of course, that I needed to learn how to create turk's head knots. And since you know I don't think anything is worth learning if I can't find a way to explain it to you all as well, here we go!

Turk's head knots are really just braids worked in a circle. There are several varieties of turk's heads, distinguished from each other by the number of times the knot works around the core, and the number of outside edge scallops that are produced.

In order to better understand how these knots are formed, there are a few knotting terms you should know. They are lead, bight and pass.

Leads (sorry for the blurry photo!)

Lead: Unlike braiding, where each strand in the braid has its own end, there's technically only 1 strand in a Turk's head knot (with a starting end and a working end.) So to distinguish the parts of a knot that the laymen might identify as strands from actual, honest strands, the term "lead" (with a long e) is used instead. Just like in a braid, the more leads in the knot, the more weaving is involved. The number of leads help classify the specific turk's head knot you are forming.

Bights

Bight: In general knot making terms, each u-shaped bend in the rope is called a "bight" (pronounced "bite"). In turk's head knots, these bends manifest themselves as scallops along the outside edge of the knot. This means that you can also classify the type of turk's head by the number of bights formed when it's complete. Even though bights are formed on both sides of the knot, they are only counted on one.

Pass: Since most turk's head knots are formed around a cylindrical core (such as a tassel), there's a point across the knot that marks when you've finished one portion of the knot and started the next. Visually, it's marked by where the starting end comes into the knot. Each time around the cylinder is called a pass, each pass forms a new lead, and each lead takes a unique path, creating a bight in the process. Pass = Lead = Path = Bight. The exception is the first lead, which is often created in the same pass as the second.

The other thing to know is that the turk's head knot is formed once all passes have been performed, and is then typically filled in by repeating the knot 1 or two more times. All of that repetition comes after the knot is actually formed, and has no bearing on the leads, bights and passes.

When you look out on the internet for "turk's head knot", you're likely going to first run into a 3 lead version, like this one (which is a 3 lead, 7 bight knot, BTW.) The problem with learning how to do turk's heads with a smaller number of leads is that you have to swap the leads manually in order to get the woven pattern correct. This isn't really a beginner-friendly thing. Once you understand the mechanics of the turk's head, however, it makes sense and is much easier to perform.

For this tutorial, I'm going to walk you through a 5 lead, 4 bight turk's head. This means that the knot will be completed (minus any repeats) once 5 leads are in place and the edge of the knot has 4 scalloped bends (the bights). This produces what's known as a square turk's head, and really highlights that the knot is woven together.

And speaking of weaving, here's a thought that might help you going in: turk's head knots aren't just "knotted". They are formed by an over-under working pattern. As you create the knot, you are weaving the strand with itself.

You don't have to start with a tassel. You'll need some type of sturdy string or cord, a tapestry needle, and a small diameter cylinder to work around. The size of cylinder you need is directly connected to the thickness of your string. If you're using a heavy crochet cotton, the diameter of a AA battery is nearly perfect. Your finger would also work, but I'd save that for when you've got a few successful knots under your belt.

Ready? Let's do this thing:



So here are some of the take-aways:

Remember that all woven things require strands worked in (at least) two different directions. The first pass of the knot creates the first two leads and sets up the two directions- that first X. This also establishes your over/under pattern, since lead 1 goes under lead 2. The remainder of the knotting pattern is based off this.

The knot is formed from the outside in. More specifically, the two edges are formed, then the additional leads work their way between them back to the start. This is different from traditional weaving, which starts on one end and works across the piece to the other end. When you place a new lead, you can use the first lead as a guide for what you need to do when you cross the third, fourth and fifth leads. Simply count out the over/under pattern for the leads that aren't there yet up to the one you're working.

Every pass is creating a bight. The bight appears before the lead's pass crosses through the knot on its way back to the left. So you go all the way to the right, then turn back (creating the bight), and go all the way to the left. Turk's heads with more bights may require additional trips back across- it depends on the lead to bight ratio.

Remember when you get to the tightening point to BE PATIENT. Take it a section at a time, and don't worry if it feels like you're just going around in circles not accomplishing anything. You are making an impact, and the knot will look much better for the effort.

I hope that this all makes sense and helps you see the mechanics of how turk's heads are formed, and why they are worked in the manner they are. I've tried my best here to break it down so you can see the mechanics and not simply the method. This doesn't mean that your first attempt not watching the video will be an automatic success, just that I hope you'll be better equipped to remember the method by being able to think through it. Good luck!

I'd love to see your knots- you can share them with me over on Facebook!

Panel to Pouch : A 6-Step Process

Since I haven't posted a Monthly Medieval Crafting Skill in a few months, I decided to make up for it by sharing with you a beginning to end tutorial on converting an embroidered panel into a finished bag. In my example, I'll be using the panel I created from my redacted pattern from a linen fragment housed at the V&A. The panel is fairly small, since I wasn't actually intending to make a full panel when I started, and I hadn't planned my available space too well. So I'll be converting the panel into a change purse. You may be working with a larger panel, or even two panels. The process I'll be showing you will work for you as well, with perhaps a few simple alterations. I'll try my best to point those out (particularly for a 2-panel process) as we go along.

I was originally going to put all 6 steps on a blog post, but it turned out so extensive, I moved it to a permanent page.

So CLICK HERE to get to the tutorial.

Video Tutorial: Twisted & Tucked Headwrap

Now that I've got a stunningly efficient and beautiful place in which to create, I am, of course, having a bit of difficulty gaining back momentum. I'm sure there's some kind of cosmic axiom for this sort of occurrence, or maybe it's just irony. Either way, it's pretty annoying.

So to help get myself back into the swing of things, I browsed through my "Inspired by Garb" Pinterest board, just to get the brain cogs moving again. One of the images I pinned some time ago of a late German reenactor has always stuck out at me, and when I really looked at it this time, I decided that I HAD to try to emulate her headdress.

Here's what I came up with:



If I really played around with this in front of the mirror, I'm sure I could lose those last two pins. And I probably will do that when I decide to wear this one for real. But as a reasonable attempt, I'm quite happy with the result, and I think it looks great.

EDIT: I did, indeed, do without those two extra pins the next time I wore this. The key was to do the step to pull that extra pointy bit down, but instead of pinning, immediately start twisting to secure it in the right place.

If you try this one yourself, why not share a pic over on my Facebook fan page? It's no fun doing headdress by yourself, you know! Simply upload your picture as a comment under the post about this video over there.

Long-Arm Cross Stitch

Each month I'm presenting a new tutorial on a medieval skill from various types of textile-related crafts. The purpose is two-fold. First, it will allow me to locate, study, and try a variety of new techniques I might otherwise overlook, and second, it's an easy way to get information out there about skills that other people might be looking for or find helpful. This month, I present Long-Arm Cross Stitch.

I'll be teaching a class on Late Medieval German embroidery this month, and have been engrossed in studying some extant pieces a bit closer than I have in the past. One set of items, the Gröss Vestments have really captured my attention, not just because they are impressive pieces, but because of the wonderfully executed counted thread patterns used on several of the pieces.

Image from the Rubens Art Server at ANU

The cope in particular uses a repeating pattern that, at first glance, looked like it may have been produce with satin stitch. When I viewed the image enlarged, however, I realized (quite excitedly) that it was long-arm cross stitch instead. In addition, the level of degradation on the piece not only allows a pattern to be pulled, but also shows the grid upon which the pattern was created. This means that, after a moment of close observation, not only could I determine the motifs used to create the finished pattern, I could also determine the stitch relationships to see how many rows of the cross stitch are needed for a near exact replica. The only thing I'm not able to determine is actual scale, since there are no scale markers on the piece, and I was unable to find the ground linen's thread count.

Long-arm cross stitch is, like it sounds, a variation on the more modern cross stitch most of us are familiar with. Rather than a line of X-shaped stitches, however, the long-arm version creates a texturized look, rather like a series of braids.

Examples of long-arm cross stitch worked in different type types.

While it's easy to explain that producing long-arm cross stitch just means extending one arm of the cross into the next (hence the name), that only barely explains the process. In reality, the stitch can be thought of as a succession of two stitches made together over 6 steps. When you've completed the first set of two, however, you've already completed half of the next set of 2. This diagram might help:

The yellow blocks represent one "cross stitch", as we would think of it in today's embroidery mindset. The blue arrows represent the stitches (on the top of the piece) and the direction in which they are worked. The numbers help identify the order those stitches take. When you reach "6", you begin again at "1", but note that the arrow takes you in the other direction. This is because you are no longer at position "1". You are at position "3" - halfway through the 2-stitch sequence. Note that this process also means that your first stitch on a row is actually worked backward before the row moves forward.

To achieve the best texture overall, rows can be worked in pairs to create a knit-like texture. The first row is working in one direction, then the second is worked backwards so that the two lines mirror each other.

Long-arm cross stitch is a hard one to teach verbally, so I took a video of me stitching the sequence extra large. You'll see in the top corner that I did some stitches at a more typical 3-thread/stitch scale. I doubled that to 6 (you'll see me count that out) to really make it clear. Not my best video, but it should help the visually-inclined. [Please note that there is no sound in the video.]

In the video, you may notice that the direction on my smaller sample changes as the lines turn a corner. This is a distinguishing feature of long-arm cross stitch, and what helps make it identifiable on an extant piece. The row direction changes are visible on the Gröss cope.

Lines indicate the row orientation.

While direction changes should be worked in a manner that's most efficient, there really isn't a method to that. Choosing to change direction when and where you do is really a matter of what seems best at the time.


So that's the "long" and short of it. *snort* I hope that you give long-arm cross stitch a try!

Baltic-Style Pick-up Inkle Weaving

Each month I'm presenting a new tutorial on a medieval skill from various types of textile-related crafts. The purpose is two-fold. First, it will allow me to locate, study, and try a variety of new techniques I might otherwise overlook, and second, it's an easy way to get information out there about skills that other people might be looking for or find helpful. This month, I present Baltic-Style pick-up Inkle Loom Weaving.

First, I have to advance apologize for how much text leads up to the visuals. Trust me, you'll be better off muddling through the text.

After learning how to inkle weave using the plain weave technique, I ran into a bit of a brick wall. Try as I might, I simply could not locate the informative visual instructions online that I needed to be able to understand both how to set up the loom and work a pickup weave. For some reason, all the tutorials sort of skim over the warping as if it wasn't important. Luckily, for Christmas, I received a great book that really got me pointed in the right direction. I highly recommend The Inkle Weaver's Pattern Directory by Anne Dixon. While she's highly technically oriented, it answers some key questions for the beginner and has a great collection of ideas.

With plain weave inkle weaving, the only technical thing you really need to pay attention to as you weave is whether or not your shed is up or down. Sort of mindless, really, once you get the hang of it. You are, however, limited to few categories of patterns. To achieve more complexity in the pattern as you weave, you have to start manipulating where your warp threads are in relation to the weft. In other words, you stop relying on the regular over/under pattern of plain weaving, and you start to, literally, mess with the order. If you like controlled chaos, you'll love pickup inkle weaving. There are several types of pick-up weaving techniques, and each results in a different type of pattern offering. I find, however, that Baltic-style is an easy technique for achieving the sorts of angled patterns SCA folk tend to gravitate toward.

In Baltic-style pickup weaving, there are two categories of warp threads. Pattern threads are the warp threads that create the pattern in the weave. Background threads (or ground threads) are the threads that fill the weave around the pattern. As you manipulate threads to create a pattern, you're only dealing with pattern threads. Background threads are never shifted out of their regular over/under sequence. The background threads keep the whole inkle weave from falling apart, providing a regularly woven platform for the pattern to be worked on. You can also remind yourself  to leave the background threads alone by remembering that Pattern and Pick-up both start with P.

I just mentioned that the pattern is worked "on" the inkle weave. That was a deliberate choice of words. Since the ground threads are creating a woven band as you go, your pattern threads work mostly independently. In order for the pattern to not get lost in the regular weave, it needs to (for lack of a better word) overpower the ground. The easiest way to achieve that is to use pattern threads that are thicker than the background threads. Another option is to double (or more) the number of individual strands per pattern thread. For example, I can use a single strand for each ground thread and two strands for each pattern thread. From now on, as I explain warping, when I say "thread", I mean the entire group of strands working together as a single warpped thread. So if you're using a thicker pattern thread, I mean that one thread, and if you're using three threads together to bulk up your pattern threads, I'm talking about those three threads together.

In order to facilitate everything above, the basic rule for many varieties of pick-up inkle weaving is that you encase every one of your pattern threads between background threads. Your entire pattern warping scheme, therefore, is made up of groups of three warp threads: a background, a pattern, a background. This also means that in-between each pattern thread, you'll have two background threads. If I was working a red and green band, with red as my pattern, here's what that would look like:

Clear as mud? Maybe this video will help clear that up:



In Baltic-style pick-up weaving, you can think of the pattern and the warp as separate things (even though they aren't). For the warp, you follow the same types of pattern diagrams used with plain weave. Alternating heddled and open threads as you go. Here's the warping diagram for the pattern I'm using in this tutorial:

I've included a few threads on the edges for a border, and my five brown pattern threads alternate between heddled and open in the middle. This tells you nothing, however, about what the intended pattern is. For the pattern, you follow a chart. My chart looks like this:

Charts show at least one "repeat" of the pattern, and are typically read from bottom to top (in the same direction you inkle weave.) Pattern threads are represented the colored blocks, but it's really not so clear cut. What's actually going on is that each colored block represents that the thread a that point should be picked-up to be above the weft, while blocks that are white indicate that the thread at that point should be pushed down below the weft. In my pattern, the longest a thread will be carried above the weft is 5 picks, and that's a good max length. Beyond that, you risk your pattern threads getting minds of their own and catching on stuff. Also take note that the pattern completely disregards the background threads. Again, you leave those alone and let them weave naturally as you raise and lower the shed.

[NOTE: It was pointed out to me in the comments that there's a missing blank row between rows 3 and 4, counting up from the bottom, that would shift the pattern threads into their naturally up positions. It doesn't change the technique as I show it, or how to read the chart, but it would make the pickup and dropping of pattern threads easier, since the up thread would be more likely to be up.]

Alright, enough talk. The easiest way for me to share with you how to accomplish this technique is by video. You can ignore the part when I talk about using an orange weft in a "previous video"- I decided that it wasn't worth sharing that other video.

So, there you have it. Hope you learned something new!