Finger picking the shed at 16 epi,
then beating evenly with a tapestry bobbin
makes weft-faced tapestry
feel like the easiest thing in the world.
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Walnut ink, above. Walnut dye below. I haven't woven a balanced plain weave in years. Finger picking the shed at 16 epi, then beating evenly with a tapestry bobbin makes weft-faced tapestry feel like the easiest thing in the world. I think I'll do some more.
Some time the 1960s, my mother bought a pair of quilts in Pennsylvania. With hand stitched appliqué strawberries and hand quilted swirls, they kept the family warm in New York, Vermont and New Hampshire. Time and use did their thing Someone with a zig zag machine tried to slow down the disintegration of the polka dot fabric, but it probably seemed hopeless. A year or two ago, my dear sister pulled one from a drawer - saved from the trash. "I thought you might be able to do something with this," she said. "Well, maybe," I replied, thinking of the other things awaiting my attention: tapestries, sweaters, drawings, fleece
Eventually, I had fabric that matched -- kinda sorta, in its own way. First, I covered the worst spots so I could wash out the dust of decades and render it usable once more. Now I add patches as I can, strengthening the bits that are fragile but not yet worn through. It is a satisfying, ongoing task.
And the colors make me happy. |
Sarah C Swett
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