Saturday, February 21, 2015
hand-dyed in pomegranate; it's been washed too vigorously the skeins are matted/felted but it is full of old-fashioned charm. (I am going to have to learn the silk jargon finally.)
The current piece is a milestone; I have wanted to weave something like this since the first day I wound wefts on a stick shuttle, but it took time collecting the right yarns, practice my techniques, draw up a suitable draft, and, well, getting around to it. It will be light-weight, almost translucent, soft but not airy like cashmere; this piece will drape. The weaving is going well, with nice selvedges. I know it will be a lovely piece, and I'm pleased I'm finally weaving this piece, although in retrospect I could have woven it some years ago, and it would have been even nicer had I stuck to my initial plan and made it twice as wide. No matter, I have checked a big item on my weaving To Do list. And I may try again if I can get suitable yarns again, perhaps silk both ways. And yet...
Don't get me wrong, part of me is ecstatic it's worked just as I imagined, it's just the kind of cloth I love, and I've finally done it. But there is a "but"; I have noticed a change in my taste of late and I find this draft too regular and boring; that was my first reaction when I wove the first inch. My ideal cloth has moved a few steps away from me, although I don't know what it looks like. I just know I have to do a bit of innovative thinking and rigorous experimentation.
Which is why weaving is so addictive.