bast bangles

Immersed?

Obsessed?

Engaged, engrossed, enchanted?

Certainly smitten.

And how not?

When a gal is in thrall to, enthralled by¹and continually in the company of three skeins of milkweed yarn and a pair of fringeless² warps—

— loom, yarn and ideas are going to be front and center no matter what else is going on.³

To be sure such a week is a little crazy-making, for when not weaving (or drawing or whatever else had to be done), I was taking photos of work in progress as though I’d never seen such things before.

Now you might think (indeed, I might think), I’d have long ago grown used to weft-faced delight and that twisted-bast sparkle—even a bit blasé. But no. Each iteration invokes a fresh frisson of delight. OMG. Beryl— look! This light is amaaaaaaazing!!!!! And now—wow— the weft almost matches my toes. Can you believe it? Can you believe I painted my toes at all? Can you believe I get to do this?

It might actually be unnerving (perhaps even embarrassing), if I didn’t love it so much.

The thing began simply enough. I was perusing my textile library⁴ (as one does), in search of something (I know not what)—when an eight inch band of warp face milkweed leaped into my hand from the book where it had been patiently place-holding for I know not how long. (Ages, probably).

Perhaps it was tired of feeling dismissed as a forgotten experiment. Maybe it was irritated by my inability to return to whatever enticing topic had held my attention once upon a time. Perchance some other bookmark had “done” its colors and suggested a refreshing dip in last week’s indigo pot. (There are a a lot of dye books in the library so this last is not unlikely). Whatever the reason I’ll never know anything for sure other than that this bookmark wanted to be a bracelet.

Now this was a surprise in itself as I’m not generally a great one for accessories.⁵ But the way that bangle bonded with the indigo was nothing short of inspiring —so what could I do but embrace its new form?

A new form for the band anyway, if not for me. Because the moment I put it on, all blue and glowing, I was reminded of the four-selvedge cuffs I wove back in 2018 when Rebecca Mezoff and I first released the Fringeless class. I’ve sold most of them long since and rarely wear the one I still have, but fresh possibilities (and technical challenges), still came pouring in. There are just so many things a person might try with a narrow-but-not-too-long strip of tapestry—bent into a circle or not. And so many ways the materials can be part of the answers.

Might the weft-faced structure do justice to the gleam of the yarn? Could little circles or squares give a nod to the stones one might find in more traditional jewelry—a bit of apatite perhaps, or even lapis?⁶ Would I wear such a thing anyway? Does that matter?

Only one way to find out.

Naturally, life being life and full of non-tapestry activities, Beryl grew a teensy bit frustrated with my single minded focus on exploring these questions while trying to fit everything else in as well.

She takes her mission as patient weaving companion very seriously (truly, she’s incredibly patient), but she also knows when enough is enough—not only on her own behalf : I cannot hang out here for another second, but also on mine. Indeed, I’m pretty sure I give her all kinds of subtle cues (smell not least), when I’ve focused too long on one thing.

And thank goodness for that, for after staring at a warp for untold hours, who can resist a walk where tall grass blows, garbanzos grow ⁷—

—and a gal can slurp with a view?

1. thrall (n) late Old English þræl "bondman, serf, slave; person obliged to serve someone else;" from or cognate with a Scandinavian source akin to Old Norse þræll "slave, servant," figuratively "wretch, scoundrel." This is perhaps from Proto-Germanic *thrakhilaz, literally "runner" (hence "attendant"), from root *threh- "to run" (source also of Old High German dregil "servant," properly "runner;" Old English þrægan, Gothic þragjan "to run")…

The meaning "condition of servitude, thralldom" is from early 14c. As a verb, c. 1200, thrallen, "deprive (someone, a people) of freedom, put in bondage," from the noun or Old Norse, also "put under the power of some spell or influence, enthrall." As an adjective, "in a condition of slavery," late Old English, from the noun.

enthrall (v). also enthral "to hold in mental or moral bondage," 1570s, from en- (1) "make, put in" + thrall (n.). Literal sense (1610s) is rare in English. Related: Enthralled; enthralling. The Middle English verb was simply thrall, for which see the noun.

I think both these definitions work well for me, for sometimes I do, indeed, feel more like I’m under the power of the materials than vice versa. At the best of times we’re working together (and actually that is what the week ultimately felt like), but often as not I have no idea whatsoever who is in charge.

2. Here are links to two technical things that make these simple-seeming bands such a pleasure to make and wear:

1. Fringeless : the class that Rebecca and I teach through her online tapestry school, is about our technique for creating four selvedge tapestries of any shape — with a lovely big shed the entire time.

2. Tucking The Tails: a graphic guide to how I in the ends as I go to make a two-sided tapestry/band/bangle/bracelet.

3. It was a huge relief to have my 50-ish year old furnace pronounced healthy and well by these guys. In other years they (the furnace-fixers) have tried to sell me to a newer, smaller and maybe more efficient one, but it seems that we’re coming back to the notion that the simplicity of my ancient behemoth is a fine thing for there is very little that can really go wrong. Also I’ve a very expensive home maintenance thing coming up (new roof I hope/think), and that seems like more than enough for one year!

4. I say “library” but in all honesty it’s just a few overstuffed shelves of beloved books on tapestry, natural dyeing, knitting, embroidery, drawing and comics, all of which share space with a swathe of Mid Century Middlebrow novels. I’m not a collector by nature and have thinned what I have any number of times —though am pretty attached to what is left.

5. I stopped wearing earrings back in 2005 when I started learning to play the cello and the dangly earrings I then favored clanged against the strings as I bent over the instrument (trying, ultimately unsuccessfully, to figure out how to manage bow and strings and intonation all at once). And though I’ve tried various forms of ornament over the years, jewelry never felt right again— even long after I’d moved on to an instrument that comes nowhere near my earlobes. I guess glasses are enough!

6. Not that I need or want indigo milkweed to glow like anything other than indigo milkweed. It’s more that I like the idea of indigo milkweed getting the respect, admiration and honor given to precious stones. And sometimes likening one thing to another helps us make that leap.

7. This walk is in a wondrous county park adjacent to these garbanzo fields. We did not meander into those fields (lots of No Trespassing signs and I wouldn’t want to squish the drying beans anyway), but I do love to see these cute little pods of deliciousness drying in the sun.