It is always amazing to me
how sometimes the simplest shift in technique
can change my whole feeling about a process.
Weaving in the ends in tapestry was like that.
Also, using a plying stick.
And one of the coolest things I learned in August
was a new way to wind the cop
on a cross-armed spindle.
how sometimes the simplest shift in technique
can change my whole feeling about a process.
Weaving in the ends in tapestry was like that.
Also, using a plying stick.
And one of the coolest things I learned in August
was a new way to wind the cop
on a cross-armed spindle.
Over Two Under One cop winding; Jenkins Spindle; flax
When I got my first cross-arm
(a 9 gram Jenkins kuchulu)
I learned what seems to be the canonical
over two under one, around and around
method of winding on (see photo above).
It worked beautifully (once I got the hang of it),
and with it I have filled uncountable spindles.
The idea of (or need for), a different approach
never crossed my mind.
(a 9 gram Jenkins kuchulu)
I learned what seems to be the canonical
over two under one, around and around
method of winding on (see photo above).
It worked beautifully (once I got the hang of it),
and with it I have filled uncountable spindles.
The idea of (or need for), a different approach
never crossed my mind.
Then in early August on a random Instagram Post
I glimpsed something rather different.
A woman was winding her cop
as though winding a ball by hand:
a few times around one pair of arms,
then on to the next pair, around a few times,
and on again to the next.
No biggie, really,
and yet, for me, huge.
I glimpsed something rather different.
A woman was winding her cop
as though winding a ball by hand:
a few times around one pair of arms,
then on to the next pair, around a few times,
and on again to the next.
No biggie, really,
and yet, for me, huge.
The cop looks quite different
as it builds up around the shaft:
more of a square with the sides pushed in
than the neat little muffin I was used to.
It's not, however, the look of the thing
that matters to me,
but rather that this way of winding
somehow adds a layer of comfortable ease
to the whole business of spinning flax
and I now find myself picking up
my willow distaff,
almost as readily as wrist distaffs
loaded with wool.
as it builds up around the shaft:
more of a square with the sides pushed in
than the neat little muffin I was used to.
It's not, however, the look of the thing
that matters to me,
but rather that this way of winding
somehow adds a layer of comfortable ease
to the whole business of spinning flax
and I now find myself picking up
my willow distaff,
almost as readily as wrist distaffs
loaded with wool.
And that is a fine thing.
A fine thing indeed,
since a truckload of milkweed stems
(potential compost from a native seed farm)
showed up at my house last week.
Once I get a better handle
on how to release the silky white fibers
hiding in that pile of stalks,
there is a good chance
that even more bast fiber spinning practice
is in my future.
since a truckload of milkweed stems
(potential compost from a native seed farm)
showed up at my house last week.
Once I get a better handle
on how to release the silky white fibers
hiding in that pile of stalks,
there is a good chance
that even more bast fiber spinning practice
is in my future.
But that is a story for another day.
Today, I just want to close
by saying thank you
for the lovely comments last week.
Your kind words and good wishes
mean more than I can say.
Spin on!
by saying thank you
for the lovely comments last week.
Your kind words and good wishes
mean more than I can say.
Spin on!
