Trying Something Different



Somewhere, at a dinner table, a parent cajoles a reluctant child—

“Come on, just try it. You might even like it.”

Could be peas. Could be curry. Could be papaya. I resisted winter squash when I was young, but at some point, Mom won and – what do you know? I do like it!

Rug-weaving is like that too. I wove a few rag rugs because I had rags and I had a loom. I didn’t spend much time thinking about color schemes and I didn’t weave more than what we needed around the house. I never learned any other rug technique either, like looped pile, knotted pile, soumak, or the like because those just didn’t interest me. That is, until this summer.

Our guild had duplicate copies of many books and offered the extras for sale to members. I picked up a copy of Peter Collingwood’s The Techniques of Rug Weaving. Wow, what a packed volume! After paging through several chapters of step-by-step instructions and diagrams, I just had to give it a try. I threaded up the loom for some play time.

After putting on a good strong warp, I experimented with knots, loops, edges, and chains. A few rows here, a few there, just enough to give me a little idea of what the surface looks like. Then on to a more focused sample.

First up, Ghiordes knots. Collingwood says these are the most common knots and are fairly secure in the warp after a few shots of plain weave binds them in. This is the brown section on my sample. I wanted those knots to be really secure and after one row, I thought they looked a little skimpy so I made sure to pack them in.

Next, I tried Sehna knots in green wool. After realigning my fingers a bit, I think I got the hang of it, sort of like wrapping a figure-8 around two warp ends. I was aiming at a good thick pile and was not disappointed. The knots snuggle right up to each other so much that I had a hard time getting my temple to bite the edges.

Finally, I did some single warp wraps or Spanish knots in gray. The yarn just wraps around a warp thread a couple of times, over-under-over, to end up on the surface. These knots are the least secure but with four shots of plain weave ground before and after a row of knots, they stay put. I finished a couple inches and decided it was time to cut off the samples to see the results.

Sure enough, the pile is thick and cozy, but all those knots in close proximity to each other curl the piece towards the back. Another thing I noticed was the width. At the beginning of the sample, the temple wasn’t set wide enough and the brown part is ½” narrower than the gray.  And of course, I didn’t have quite enough warp to do a proper edging at one end.

I’m enjoying my little adventure into new weaving territory. This is quite the change of pace from the dish towel cottons and fine damasks I’ve been weaving recently. I’ll get back to those soon enough, but not before another knotted pile sample.

Then those looped piles are intriguing.


Natural Inspiration



I have a habit of taking pictures of unusual things.

Colorful lichen formations

There’s something fascinating in the shapes and color combinations that occur naturally, about the variety of small fungi and mosses that grow on rocks and trees, about the way a tree heals from an injury.

Humans have been awed by nature since the beginning of time. In one way or another, we try to express our fascination, our fear, our wonder of the world around us in whatever medium is at hand.


It’s instinctive—nature inspires. Nature is awesome, and when we are awed, we reach for what is close at hand to capture and communicate that awe.

The respected weaving teacher Sharon Alderman told how she walked around her block, taking dozens of pictures for color inspiration. Colors that occur naturally together are good starting points for a weaving project.

A couple years ago, we visited southwestern Wyoming and Utah. The shapes and layers in the rock formations amazed me. Can you visualize the advancing twill lines in those hills?


That’s why I take pictures in my backyard. I take pictures in parks. And like all of us, I take pictures on vacation. Someday, those pictures will become weavings, in one way or another.

Color Perception



Most of us have a favorite color. Mine is green. Or maybe blue. Some will say fire engine red or tangerine orange. I know some little girls who have to have everything purple.

Funny thing is, what I call purple may not match what they think of as purple. Purple to one person may look like red-violet to another.

Woods in the spring

My favorite green comes from a northern woods in early summer, before the heat dusts all the leaves. An intense green with blue and yellow overtones. Can you see it? Just picture a woody stream with the sunlight streaming through the branches.

For every hue, there are shades, tints, tones, and temperatures depending on how much black, white, gray, red or blue is mixed in. A color can be warm (more red) or cool (more blue). And for every shade, tint, and tone, there are some really great names for them.

Sierra (deep brown). Yale (dusty blue). Sapphire (which actually looks more green than blue to me). Grotto (light lavender). Summer Glade (soft light green). Light red. Dark red. In one yarn company’s line, the light red is darker than the dark red. Go figure.

Yarn isn’t the only medium where colors boggle the mind. Just stand in front of the paint chips at the hardware store – the color choices are overwhelming. Many paint displays allow you to change the lighting so you can better match what’s in your home. What looks light blue in incandescent light may look white in fluorescent light.

Purple and blue yarn on white backgroundHow we see a color is affected by its surroundings. Put purple yarn on a light background, then on a dark background. Same yarn, different perspective.

A gray circle on a white background will look darker than that same gray circle place on a black background. A room with windows facing west or south will get more yellow light than a north-facing room. Put a shady tree outside those windows and the color changes.

Practically speaking, one of the first decisions I make when planning a weaving project is the color. If I want to make something green, but don’t have enough of the right green, how can I blend what’s on my shelf to make what’s in my head? Sometimes adding an accent of a complementary color will intensify the main color. Too much of that complementary though will just gray it out.

Color is very personal. Everyone has one or two favorites, colors they gravitate toward and feel comfortable with. Mine is green. What is your favorite color?

Look It Up!



“I don’t think that means what you think that means.”

Like Inigo Montoya, (“The Princess Bride”) I’ve found myself muttering that phrase lately. And it reminds me of my Mother’s answer whenever we asked what something meant—look it up!

We use a lot of words that are specific to our interests, but do they really mean what we think they mean?  If we have to explain a term, can we do it without Google?

I’ve come across some design terms lately that I thought I knew – until I tried to define them. For example, what is the Golden Proportion?

What I learned when I looked it up (Mom would be so proud!) is that if you divide a line unequally into two sections, the ratio of the smaller section to the larger section should be the same as the ratio of the larger section to the whole. That’s the Golden Proportion (or Golden Section, or Golden Ratio). The same with a rectangle and any other shape or space. Our brains like the balance of that proportion.

Then there are design elements — line, shape, pattern, texture, color – and design principles — focal point, contrast, repetition, balance, movement, order.

These didn’t figure in my college courses, so at first glance, they seem sort of esoteric. (Did I use that word right?!) I mean, what exactly do designers mean by unity? Balance? Rhythm? Do I need to go to the deep end of the design pool?

Planning in the works

Yes, I do.

In the weaving process, the hardest part for me sometimes is the designing. Why is that? Decision-making mostly, along with lack of confidence. I go back and forth about colors and placement, stripe sequences and where to put borders. It can take the better part of an afternoon to pull together a towel warp. If I can make these design principles a part of my planning, maybe the process will go more smoothly.

If I place a border on a towel using the Golden Ratio, I can trust that it will look good.

If I blend colors from one shade to another using a Fibonacci series — each number the sum of the two previous numbers (0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and so on) – the transition will balance. In weaving, that could be the number of threads or the size of the stripe. Knowing how the system works should make designing less of a guessing game.

So now whenever I come across a design term that is a little vague to me, I will think of Mom and look it up. It will be worth it.




Blue and Red Towels off the loom

I’ve often done things the hard way, mostly because of impatience.

In high school, most students took Literature before they took Creative Writing. Except me. I insisted on taking Creative Writing first, then had to go back and take Literature the next year anyway. Would’ve done better in the proper order.

As a college freshman, I thought Prehistoric Archeology looking interesting, but Anthropology 101 was a prerequisite. When they removed the prerequisite, I jumped right to the course I thought I wanted without any real understanding of what prehistoric archeology was. There’s a reason for prerequisites.

Prerequisites in weaving are necessary too. While it’s fun to jump right in and weave something wonderful, eventually you have to know how to design your own project and dress the loom by yourself. Understanding how the threads interact and how drafts work helps determine which weave will work best for your project.

I admire weavers who study a weave structure and know how it works. I mean really know how it works. Through examination and practice (the prerequisites), they build an instinct about the weave. They can look at a sample of that weave and know right off the bat how it was threaded, how it was treadled.

There’s a weaver in our study group who weaves M’s & O’s and ripsmatta. Paula knows M’s & O’s and ripsmatta. Mary Jane can look at a block weave and before too long figure out exactly how many blocks were used and how they were threaded. Jenny is delving into tapestry and has created some amazing little treasures as she adds to her already-expansive weaving skills.

I want to be like them when I grow up.

Opphämta on the Loom

There are so many weave structures that I skipped through in my weaving journey. One or two projects does not give a very firm foundation. On my way to twill and damask, I skimmed over brocade, lace, crackle, summer and winter, pile weaves, trying only a few token samples before moving on. So earlier this year, I decided that yes, I can go back and work on those weaving prerequisites. It’s never too late to make resolutions and review the wealth of ways threads intersect.

In between my usual projects this year, there’ll be lots of reading and lots of sampling. The goal is to expand skills that have become maybe a little too routine, a little too predictable. What better way to freshen perspective than to go back and catch those weaving prerequisites?

Weaver, Know Thyself


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One of my former weaving teachers, Madelyn Van der Hoogt, used to say there are two kinds of weavers: color/texture weavers and structure/pattern weavers.

The color/texture people are drawn to – well, color and texture. Their projects bump and bubble with shades and hues, delighting the eyes with a virtual flower garden on the loom.

The structure/pattern weavers gravitate towards those intricate interlacements that take the yarn in elaborate diamonds and laces. How do you get the strict grid on the loom to softly curve in the design?

Like all generalizations, these show opposite ends of the weaving spectrum. Most of us fall somewhere in between the extremes, but may drift toward one end or the other. At one point in a guild meeting, we were discussing this and a friend told me “Oh you’re definitely structure/pattern!”

Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of myself as being so far to that end. But as I scrolled through my weaving pictures, it’s obvious. While I do dabble in color blending and like a bit of texture in my towels, those fancy diamonds and stars show up over and over again.

The lemon napkins with a green twill border.

Lemon and Jade Cotton Napkins

A similar pattern shows up in some red and blue towels.

Cotton and Linen Kitchen Towel in Royal and Natural

Red Cotton Towel woven "as drawn in."








There are the double weave placemats with repeating blocks and ovals.

Marsala and Cream Doubleweave Placemats

And then there are the small table cloths sporting diamonds, stars, and blocks overall.

Weaver, know thyself.

Right now I have a towel warp on the small loom and my mind wanders while I’m throwing the shuttle.  What can I put on the drawloom that will be more than an exercise in sampling? How can I adapt the elaborate fancy twills from the 18th century Snavely manuscript into something delightful for the 21st century? Is there room in our clear-the-clutter culture for decorative textiles?

So my mind wanders. I think a point twill on the 12-shaft loom is beginning to take shape.

“Plays Well With Others”


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dsc_1061a111At a recent guild meeting we watched a portion of Laura Bryant’s DVD “A Fiber Artist’s Guide to Color.” She discusses how to arrange colors so that they don’t “fight” against each other. That reminded me of elementary school report card behavior comments:

  • Follows directions
  • Completes assignments
  • Expresses ideas clearly
  • Does neat thorough work
  • Plays well with others

Do the colors I pick for any given project follow my mental directions in the warp and weft? Do they express my ideas of what that fabric should look like? Do they “play well with others”?


Laura took the audience through several exercises demonstrating how our perception of colors is affected by all the other colors around them. Putting a purple patch over a white background or a blue background affects how that purple looks. Our eyes will “see” it as different when it is actually the same.

Watching her exercises, I recalled a “problem child” cone of yarn I have that doesn’t play well with others. It’s called “Bluebird” and by itself, is a delightful purple which leans toward blue. But just try to blend it with other purples or even with reds and it becomes either a bully by standing out like a neon light or is itself bullied into a non-descript gray.

I can blame some of this on my camera or my lighting, but this cone of yarn is often the culprit when I can’t get a towel to photograph well. It’s a case of the background color either highlighting the accent or pulling all the color out of it. What I need to figure out is the happy medium.

I do a lot of color-blending in my warp and it’s fun to see which cones work together and which ones I have to save for another project. That’s what makes each project unique, each towel “expressing ideas clearly” and “playing well with others.”


Don’t forget the holiday specials going on in my Etsy shop. I am offering 10% off on any orders over $75. Just enter the code HOLIDAY18 at check-out. And if you order on today, November 26, your treasure will ship for free.

Happy Thanksgiving!


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DSCF1027Here we are at our annual day of giving thanks. As soon as November hits, the stores put up the red and green, but I appreciate a day to reflect on all that I am thankful for.

I’m thankful for colors—blues, greens, corals, rubies, golds, browns—oh the richness and variety of browns in the world!

I’m thankful for textures—smooth, silky, fuzzy, bumpy, ridged, sharp, soft.

I’m thankful for handwork—weaving, spinning, knitting, tatting, crocheting, sewing.

But more than all of these, I’m thankful for faith, for family, for friends.

And I’m thankful for all of you who read through my occasional musings on fiber art and who have supported my creative jaunts.

To share my appreciation, I am offering 10% off on any orders over $75 from my Etsy shop. Just enter the code HOLIDAY18 at check-out. And if you order on Cyber Monday, November 26, your treasures will ship for free. Perhaps you’ll find just the right gift for you or your special someone.

Thank you – and Happy Thanksgiving!

Choosing Sides



Blue towel front and backI stand at the ironing board, ready to press over the hem on the towel. I look more closely, flip the fabric over, flip it back. I pause, indecisive; which side is the “right” side?

Many weaves look distinctly different on one side from the other. Summer and Winter is a perfect example. One side is predominantly light and the other predominantly dark; that’s where it gets its name. Twills can have the same effect depending on the float lengths and colors of the warp and weft.

I weave a lot of twills and when the fabric is on the loom, I get used to the face on top. When the warp advances around the cloth beam to where I can see Natural towel front and backthe other side, it’s can be a delightful surprise. Sometimes I can’t decide which side I like better. Do I want the accent motif to stand out on a uniform background, or is the background itself the star of the show?

As the weaver, it’s really up to me to choose which is the “right” side. Some weaves are pretty much the same on either side. Plain weave is – well, plain. Lace weaves will be opposite but still lace weaves—a weft float on the front will be a warp float on the back. It just depends on what you are looking for.

There comes a moment, though, when I have to decide—which is the front side and which is the back side. Hems have to go somewhere.Red towel front and back

I pick up the iron, press, and pin. Decision made. At least until I sit down to sew the hem and have second thoughts.

Barn Raising

Framed Barn PictureYou’ve heard the saying: “You can take the girl out of (insert your favorite place), but you can’t take the (insert your place again) out of the girl.” Cute and catchy. It explains all sorts of idiosyncrasies we aren’t even aware of, and some we wish we could outgrow, but no, they are part of our make-up.

For me, it’s my rural, upper Midwest upbringing. The way I pronounce certain words (much to my husband’s amusement); my love of cheese curds, brats, and beer; my preference for cool weather and all things “Norman Rockwell”-esque. You can take the girl out of Wisconsin…

I shared in Learning Experiences about this damask barn I was working on that would reflect both my Dad’s dairy farming and my Mom’s quilting. The challenge was getting the woven piece to show the same proportions as the graphed picture.

Five samples later, I took it off the loom, but then had to decide how to frame it. Another month went by before I found an answer in a box of my mother’s old pictures—a frame made by my grandfather. Its dark brown, rustic finish works, although I wish I had used a similar colored thread in the weaving. But then I didn’t know about the frame when I was weaving. Maybe next time.

It felt good and right to hang the barn above my loom, to step back and remember. I’m hoping they would approve.