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making cordage (a tutorial of sorts)

9/25/2018

 
Picture
Bearded Iris leaves and cordage
There have been a number of questions
about the specifics of making cordage.
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It's a pretty elemental process
and as I said last week,

I'm only just beginning
 my research and experiments--
but since you asked,
here a jumping off point for yours.

FYI -- Youtube isn't a bad place for further research.

Thigh spinning videos can be helpful,
and there are also any number of young men
​eager to explain how to make cordage--
usually as part of a general survival strategy
for the next time you happen to find yourself in the wilderness
with nothing but a pocket knife
(and the requisite testosterone).

As it turns out, however,
a person only need her hands--
​

​though a pair of snips can be useful.

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Actually the process is so elemental
that it seems absurd
to have 16 photos and a video
to show the process.
But oh well....
​No time for brevity.
Picture
Anyway --
Gather some leaves**
and get them nice and damp.
You can do this by dumping a bundle in:
-a handy babbling brook impersonator (see photos above),
-your leftover bath water
-an actual babbling brook.
​
Rolling them in a wet towel also works well, 
as does gathering after a rain.

**Iris are satisfyingly strong
Daylily is fun to say (and the leaves can be long)
Narcissus are fragile, narrow and a lovely color
Corn husks are short, plentiful,  strong and dye beautifully.
Other plants await...

Picture
Even when I've soaked them in a creek (real or pretend),
it has been helpful to wrap the leaves in a damp towel
and let them sit for an hour or three
to even out the moisture content.
Picture
Picture
Then I tear wide leaves into strips
to control the evenness of the cordage.
Picture
To begin,
​Fold one strip (or leaf) --
but not in half.
Picture
Grab the fold with one hand,
the further strand with the other,
and twist it (the further strand) away from your body.
Picture
Cross the twisted far strand over the near strand
making it (the near strand)
the new far one.
Twist the new far strand.
​Cross over.
​Repeat.

​You are now spinning and plying at the same time.
Picture
When you get close to the end of a leaf strip,
or they start becoming too thin,
add a new strip 
by tucking it into the V 
(you can leave a bit sticking out and snip it off later).
Twist the new strip with whichever strip it is joining/replacing.
​
​Here is a Video -- I hope.
Please pardon the bathtub drain sounds --
the brook impersonator by where I was working
is about to be dismantled for winter so is missing its babbilator.
Working with a number of strands,
each of which begins and ends in a different place,
determines color, thickness and strength of the finished cordage.
Picture
So with the same materials
you can make something
fine enough for a fishing net,
or  a rope on which you can cross a bottomless chasm. 
​Not bad for a few dead leaves. 

Of course I haven't tried either of these things as yet,
and expect there are a few nuances I'm missing,
but do let me know if you try them
and how they work.
Picture
Back in the studio,
where the bottomless chasms are metaphors
and I am fortunate enough to have a variety of cutting tools,
I usually lop off the sticky outey bits as i go.
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Then,
when I run out of leaves
 or time
or energy
or the cordage is just perfect,
​I stop. 
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How? I dunno!

9/18/2018

 
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Obsessions.
​They happen.

 I call this one "material inquiry"
when I want to impress myself --

or use the other elegant phrases
I tried to conjure 
last week--
but while in its midst,
this infatuation mostly feels like joy.​
Picture
Caught up (dare I say twisted into), whatever it is,
 I find it hard to know what to say here
 except
"YAY"
and 
"isn't it cool?"


But Thanks to Kate's query
in last week's comments
asking about the how of it all,

​I'm determined to explain... something.
Picture
Except,
 I am learning as I go
so my information has gaping holes 
about which I know nothing,
and the things I do know
are somewhat situation specific.

Water, for instance.
Here in Idaho it is very dry right now
so I've found it necessary to soak the dry leaves
before splitting or twisting them into cordage
to prevent the strands from breaking.

A tub of water for a few hours works pretty well,
as does rolling in a wet towel overnight,
depending on character of the material.
A good soaking rain is great
(we had one once),
as the brown leaves around the edges of 
iris and daylily plants can be twisted immediately. 
Picture
Freshly made cordage (everything still damp),
is easy to weave with.
It packs in best
when going through a small section
of the open shed before packing
(one or two warps at a time instead of five or six
or, heaven forbid,
traveling selvedge to selvedge before packing).

If the cordage has had time to dry, however, 
(about five seconds around here right now),
it needs to be soaked till pliable enough
​ to bend smoothly around the warp.
Picture
If, however, a gal happens to soak her cordage
for too long in extra warm water
(cuz...tea... hot water in the kettle...),
said cordage may become over-saturated
and this may lead:
first  --to lovely, easy weaving
second --to shrinkage as the cordage dries,
Picture
third --to undesired needle weaving
and a revision of her original vision 
if she happens to have woven other elements
over the too wet cordage
using techniques/ materials that do not
want to slide down the warp
at the same rate as the cordage.
Picture
and fourth-- to a bit of house wrecking
when trying to force things
in an attempt to avoid needle weaving
and vision adjustment
.
Luckily, I kinda like the wrecked house
and its new island location

so decided not to repair it.
Picture
Of course I (that mystery gal),
likes all of it enough

to try other aqueous experiments,
for instance tossing a couple of rings of cordage
into a linen scouring bath
(linen skeins and washing soda
simmered for an hour+).
Picture
note: Fringeless Four Selvedge Students, I also included this photo to demonstrate another instance of splitting the doubled warp for fine detail -- each house wall is 1 1/2 warps wide and the window is two warps acting like three since it uses half of each side one. Upper needle keeps twist in second supplemental warp from messing this up while I'm weaving (with a needle for the window section since it is easier than shoving a bobbin through that not very big shed-- a pain but useful for tiny elements and a reminder of the bliss of getting back to the lovely big shed provided by the supplemental warp).
Astonishingly,
the cordage did not fall apart.

What it did do was grow plumply darker (dying itself?)
and develop a new character.
Wet, it felt a bit like holding
a string of dark brown pearls
and was lovely to weave--
when damp but no longer wet, that is.
Some lessons stick.

One person said the photo above looked like woven coffee beans.
Picture
After drying completely though,
the pearl/ coffee bean effect went away.
The cordage stayed quite dark,
and didn't exactly shrink as a whole,
but the character of the individual strands 
ended up different from any cordage I've used so far,
wet or dry,
and the bit with which I didn't weave
went boing.
Picture
No chance to try weaving with this weird stuff yet,
but rest assured that soon enough 
​it'll be damp once again
to see how it behaves, both off and on a loom.
Picture
Finding things out is  addictive, don't you think?

Part of me wishes that I knew
what I don't yet know,
so I could figure out how
to learn whatever those things are
in an organized way.
​
But then again...
The mystery is better.

At least until I do learn a thing,
whereupon I'm sure to write about here
because
duh
I'm blabby that way
even when apparently speechless with delight.
Picture
SO FAR:
-dead leaves,
-stuff that's in the studio,
-weird results
-four selvedge tapestry,
Picture
-all of you.

What a plus to know
you're here with me.
​Thanks.
Picture

a fist full of sky

9/11/2018

 
Picture
Daylily cordage--
​ a restful break from weaving tapestry--
Picture
a brief and low-key
period of exploration
into materials,
elemental processes
and direct tactile engagement--
Picture
daylily and iris leaf cordage
all of which
is a pseudo-artistic, 
vaguely academic, 

and grown-up
​ way of describing
my  visceral response
to glimpses of  cordage 
on the internet--
Picture
​a response so strong
that each time I saw one of 
Alice Fox's cordage-wrapped sticks

I felt the power
​of the
 girl I once was--
Picture
a girl who knew that there was a way
to transform fistfuls of dead leaves​
into houses for fairies--
Picture

and magic carpets,
Picture
The Promise of Rain; Hand Woven Tapestry; daylily and iris leaves, hand spun flax; indigo; black walnut dye; 7" x 7";
and potions for flight--
Picture
if only she understood
exactly
​ how it was to be done.
Picture
What joy, then--
Picture
Fist Full of Sky; Hand Woven Tapestry; Iris, Daylily and Narcissus leaves; kami-ito; hand spun flax; 7 1/4" x 8 1/8"
to learn --
Picture

or maybe just to notice--
Picture
that the knowledge is right here.
Picture
Little Pink House; Hand Woven Tapestry; daylily, iris and narcissus leaves; corn husk; cotton; spindle spun wool and flax; natural dye; 9" x 7"
What I clearly don't know --
and perhaps never will--
is where bits of idle curiosity will lead. ​
Picture
Or, indeed,
what on earth I am going to write

when I start these blog posts.

what I did on my summer staycation...

9/4/2018

 
Picture
is not what I imagined I would do.
Picture
Oh, it started off according to plan--
painting walls and scrubbing floors.

​But clearing out the stuff --
completely emptying my studio 
as per my dream drawing above--
and going on to create  a calming,
almost anonymous space
that wouldn't make my brain buzz

(the kind of space you might find
at an exclusive artist retreat center

in a glorious and exotic location
where 
wonderful new ideas cannot help but flow in
and where they serve you lunch in an attractive basket
​just when you're getting peckish),

 proved to be easier dreamed than done.
Picture
At home,
without the luxury of that imagined, anonymous space,
but WITH a powerful drive to find it,
(and with the joy of picking lunch in the garden
just when I'm getting peckish,
and having neither to update my CV nor pack supplies),
I actually had to confront myself
in the form of my stuff:
 towers of books,
endless teapots,
(I am not a collector but somehow have an absurd number),
pipe parts for looms,
baskets of toilet paper rolls,
frogs of many forms,
​random sticks....
​

And that proved fascinating.
At least to me.
Picture
Because it turns that the decisions made
while doing all this clearing out
are much the same as those  I make
when creating new work--
(the satisfying work, that is), 
which allows the whole process to be about NOTICING--
not just with my head, but with my whole body.
(even if sometimes it is about my head,
for who knew ancient and slightly rusty
 thinning scissors would be so full of possibility).
Picture
So that's what I've been doing:
 practicing noticing.​

​What does it feel like,
this funny skein at the bottom of a drawer,

this book at the back of a shelf,
 this color, this technique, this teapot, this material,  this image?


Like a lead weight on my shoulders,
heavy with
​ expectation.


Fluttery-- like wings.

Like I can't breathe.

ALIVE.

Like my Grandmother's frown of disapproval.

​Like Dancing.
Like sorrow.
​
Like Anger.
​
Like the center of the universe.
Picture
Like possibility.

​
It's practically a cliché these days --
the joys of clearing up, uncluttering, death cleaning,
the miserly counting of garbage bags of routed stuff,
the endless compelling discussions about issues of abundance and scarcity
(all which made me not want to do it
much less write about here cuz -- HUGE topic),
but all that aside...
I didn't actually have much to  toss. 
And it is useful to take stock--
 to ask questions.


What am I doing.
What do I like.
What do I think I like.
What do OTHER people think I like
(teapots and frogs apparently).
What do I think I like because other people think I like them.
What do I not stop doing despite the weight of judgment (internal and/or external).

Picture
You know. 
At least I bet dollars to donuts you know...

And if you're a regular reader,
or read the post before this one,
you also know these are things I was trying to do
 before my staycation.

But apparently I required
summer school remedial work.

And to show you how helpful it has been,
(since there was not a final exam),

I will say that at this very moment
it is lovely to notice

how great it feels
​ be back,

writing to you all,
and  poking at ideas
in this particular way.
​I'm so glad.
​

Happy September!
Picture
    Picture

    ​Sarah C Swett 
    tells stories
    with
    ​ and about

     hand spun yarn. 


    Picture
    Click for info on
    my four selvedge
    warping class
    with
    ​ Rebecca Mezoff  
    fringeless


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