I've spent this weekend teaching weaving to six wonderfully enthusiastic people - and I can tell you that while everyone enjoyed it (as I was told so) - I think nobody had more fun that I did.

Tablet weaving is one of my favourite teaching topics. It's simultaneously easy and brain-bending. There's simple rules to follow, and within those rules, you are completely free to do as you wish. Mistakes are easy to make, but they are also easy to spot, and after a while you make less and less of them. And for teaching purposes, with the system that I have developed for weaving both "normal" patterns and twill patterns, it's even not relevant whether someone has been doing tablet weaving before or not.

So everyone gets the basic explanations, then we get to work making a warp, and then weaving starts. Which, about inevitably, results in a room full of very quiet, very concentrated people, exploring the structures and possibilities of tablet-woven bands, conjuring up patterns. It actually was so quiet that I could hear a pin drop. (Yes, I actually tried. It was only just audible, but that was because the floor in the room was relatively soft, so the pin made very, very little noise.)

In my course description, I purposely did not promise that we'd get into twill, as this can be hard to gauge. While a weekend course is usually enough to at least touch the basics (the plain background, and the principle of how to weave a motif in that), I can't guarantee that more will be covered, as this very much depends on the individual group. In some groups, the weavers want more time to explore diagonals patterns, for instance, and that, of course, is a wonderful thing as well.

This weekend, however, everybody was keen on getting some twill shenanigans done, and so we did. I can tell you that for me as the teacher, seeing that first line in everyone's band move first there, then here - that is the most exciting simple line that I know. Also, it means that I get to tell one of my favourite teaching stories: The one about the little renegade tablet that wants to start a revolution.

That is another thing teaching in this style has taught me - if you work paperless, without drafts, stories and mnemonic aids are wonderful tools to help explain things, and to help remember them. I don't know how pattern instructions were passed on in medieval societies, but I could well imagine a teacher tell a story to the pupils to help them remember what needs to be done at a given place in a pattern. It would probably not have been the story about a little tablet being a revolutionary and turning everything around (which is something that would not have latched onto basic cultural knowledge and background as it does with today's people), but it might have been something else fulfilling the same purpose. Songs and stories make wonderful tools for keeping things in minds, and I thoroughly enjoy teaching with stories. And daring little revolutionary tablets that prepare their revolution in the underground, quietly, looking like every other tablet for a while... until, suddenly...

You might remember that I went to Belgium in January, to teach tablet weaving at the beautiful Merveille de Méry? This summer, there will be another workshop there. It's a relatively modern form of embroidery, but since Tambour embroidery has tickled my interest for a few years now, I'm a little sad that it's on a date where I will not be able to join in. (Since the reason for that is that I'll be in Dublin on the WorldCon on that weekend, behind my table in the dealer's hall, my sadness is not too bad, though.)

However, that should not keep you from considering a weekend's worth of lessons in Tambour embroidery (unless, of course, you consider coming to Dublin as well). So here's the info about the workshop, together with the contact information for booking:

Whatever you do on that weekend in August - I hope you will have fun!

A while ago, I marked out two weekends for giving workshops... and then it took me a while to decide on what topics to offer. In the end, I had decided on making one of the weekends a two-day tablet-weaving workshop. And that's where it got complicated.

For table-weaving, you need to tension your warp. Obvious, right? Well, for several people to have a nice setup where they can work with a nicely tensioned warp in appropriate length at an appropriate height, this very quickly means you need a system for the setup. Especially as every warp should be accessible without crawling on the floor to pass under other people's warps, or hopping over them (which would be an admirable feat, by the way). After all, the weavers might want to get up and stretch once in a while, or have something to drink, or go to the toilet, or whatever.

(Fun fact: I might actually do a bit of crawling underneath things in such a workshop, even though it would not be necessary - but it would mean a longer way to walk. So.)

In consequence, this means I need a room that is large enough to accommodate my setup of several tables and chairs, which will then accommodate up to a dozen weavers. And finding a room that is close enough to my home base, affordable, and available on the weekend in question - well, that has turned out to be a challenge greater than expected.

But finally, I have found a room for the tablet-weaving course. So there will be a weaving weekend in Erlangen on August 31 and September 1, teaching a deep understanding of tablet-weaving and a system that will allow you to freestyle patterns. No pattern draft necessary. (If you're interested, there is an Early Bird discount of 25 € with the code DerFrueheVogel - valid until May 31.)

With that course and weekend all settled, the two others were easier: I will be offering a filet netting workshop on June 22, and a "freestyle workshop" on June 23. The freestyle workshop is 3 to 4 people, we will chat beforehand on what you are interested in, and then everyone gets to work on their own project or issues - and can sneak peeks into the other participants' projects as well.

So if you're interested... check out the workshop links, and maybe I'll see you in a month or three!

I'm on the hunt - on the hunt for suitable rooms for giving workshops, for all those lovely topics where my home is not large enough - such as tablet-weaving with more than two people.
Since tablet-weaving workshops have been requested again and again, and I'm also really psyched about giving them (as teaching tablet-weaving is utter fun, for me), I need a room for that... with enough good light and enough space to place tables and chairs for a convenient setup, and preferably not too far away from home.
By chance I discovered that Erlangen's urban administration actually offers a "room search", where you can search for rooms for all kinds of events and all kinds of group sizes. That actually helped me a lot to discover the possibilities - and now I'm waiting for answers.
If I can find a room, there will be a tablet-weaving workshop on the weekend August 31/September 1, similar to the one I gave in Belgium in January: Understanding how tablet-weaving works, so you can weave patterns without needing a pattern draft. Which, if you ask me, is the coolest and most exciting (and fun!) way to do tablet-weaving!

I'm back, and now there's the usual things that need to be done after an event which included the shop going for a little travel: Putting everything back into place, for one thing, and re-filling stuff, plus re-ordering, in some cases.

I had a wonderful, wonderful weekend, with a group of lovely people. There was chocolate, and tea, and coffee; there was a large table full of books to browse; there was a nice, light, large room to sit in and chat and work on projects brought along; and then there was the workshop room, where I spent most of the time.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="960"] Our group - as you can see, it was a mixed bunch, doing Living History of a good number of different times! (I was one of the people opting for modern clothing - it's easier for me to put on and take off layers as I need to when I'm hopping around the room teaching.)


I had a lot of fun teaching a variety of courses - though, as sometimes happens, one of the courses went a little bit different than I had planned for. Apparently, my method of explaining how to sprang does work for some people - and for others, it does not work at all, and causes more confusion than clarity, which is not a good thing. (The workshop taking place on Saturday afternoon may have had something to do with it, too - with all the talking, book-reading, sewing and cutting, plus the other workshops taking place before, and the night probably not being too long for most people, learning something new is a tad more difficult than when you're all fresh and rested.)

There also were a few bouts of frustration about threads not going quite where they were supposed to be - and that is one of the category 2 problems, the ones involving motor skills and only being solved by practice.

In spite of all the pitfalls, we got it all figured out by the end, and all of the participating ladies had a nice bit of sprang to show for their efforts when we ended the workshop, with some of them even making holes where they wanted them to be. So the next time I'll give a sprang workshop, I will change things a bit, in hopes it will be clearer and easier for everybody.

"While we teach, we learn", said old Seneca the Younger - and he's still right about that...

Everything here looks like it always looks just before I am leaving for some event: There's clothes and other overnight stuff on the bed, stacked up and waiting to be put into my "personal belongings" bag; there's stacks of boxes with the shop wares, ready to be transferred to the car, sitting next to the door; and there's stacks (or heaps, depending on their nature) of things necessary for the different workshops or other special requirements.

My workshop scripts are printed out and sitting at their respective places, my "office box" which contains paperworky stuff (such as the newsletter infosheet, and receipt forms, and the card reader) is with the other shop goods to be transferred, and all that is left to pack is the computer (as in this case, I will be taking it along) and, of course, my trusty thermos mug.

That one is still on the kitchen counter, waiting to be filled with some delicious fresh hot coffee just before I hop into the (then fully loaded) car, to make me happy while I am on the road...

So it's prep business like usual, and I'm already looking forward to the afternoon, when I will meet up with the whole group at the Historisches Nähtreffen... and then get started spinning tonight.

As I'll be spending the weekend working, I will take my break afterwards - and see you back here on the blog on Wednesday. Until then, I hope you'll have as much fun as I am seeing in my own future!

So... I've covered the explanations, and the hunt for words - that is one of the challenges when teaching, and it relates to the mind part of the task, the understanding only.

The things I am teaching, though, are crafts. Which means that there is not only theory (understanding how things work, and how the process should look at every stage of the work and why, and how to check if it is correct) but also practice. Which, in turn, means fine motor skills - getting your hands to do exactly what they need to do to turn those tablets, spin that spindle, control these fibres, tighten the thread, hold and swap those loops.

Motor skills of that kind are not as easy to confer to someone else. Once you've found the right words and gotten that concept across, it's there (and hopefully there to stay), but you can show someone a movement, a motion, a way of holding the body or parts of it, and it might just be so uncomfortable or new or hard to do that it is not really happening for that student. Even worse, there might be issues that prevent someone from successfully doing something - a finger that once was broken, latent tendonitis in a hand, arthritic joints, limited range of motion in a shoulder. The human body is astonishingly strong and resilient in some ways, and astonishingly ill-designed and prone to failure in others.

Even when there are no illnesses or accidents or other things that have left their traces, some folks will get there quicker, and some will need more time to learn that motion. It has to do with what one is used to doing - having mastered other, similar movements for something else before will be helpful, and having never done anything of the sort of motion needed will make itself felt. So some students, naturally, will be faster and some will be slower.

And also naturally, the slower ones will tend to be frustrated, and look at the others who are quicker and start to doubt themselves and think they will never get it. This, for me, is the hardest thing to deal with when teaching crafts - because I would so love to help them be just as fast as the fastest student in the class, and spare them the frustration. I would love to transfer them my own muscle memory, my own experience of how to grip, how to loosen, how something feels when you have to let go just a little more, or hold on a tiny bit harder. Of how the fibre should feel when it is running through your distaff hand, how that stack of tablets resists a bit and then you loosen your grip in one way and turn a little more and there it is.

But this, alas, is not possible. Everyone has to find these little treasures of practical knowledge for themselves. Experience cannot be transferred directly. There is no quick fix for the muscles not getting it as fast as the brain did.

It's frustrating when you know exactly what you want to do, and your body just refuses to do it. It's also frustrating when other people do just the same task with an apparent effortlessness that makes you doubt yourself. Believe me - I know that feeling very well. Not from textile crafts (where I have been doing so many things over the years that I usually get the new motion very quickly). I know it all too well from bouldering, where I regularly have fits of frustration over not being able to do a problem that others just dance up - or so it seems to me. I am still not very strong, so some moves are right out (pull my body up with one arm? Oh forget it!), and I'm still not very tall, so sometimes my angles are different and it makes things very different indeed, and sometimes my hands are too small for a specific grip on a hold. But sometimes, all these things cannot serve as an excuse, or an explanation why something is harder for me. Sometimes I only lack the strength, or the muscle knowledge of how a motion is done, or both - and consequently, I  fall off. Again and again and again, while other people (including other women, and sometimes other women who are a similar height) just... you know... float up.

There's only one solution to this problem: Keep trying. Keep practicing. Even if it is hard, even if it is frustrating, every time of trying and failing means one more time exploring possibilities, making new connections between muscles and neurons, learning something. Eventually, it will click, and the motor part of the brain will realise that oh, this is how the movement should feel, and this is how the muscles here and there and there have to work together, and suddenly it works, not all the time at first, but the seed is laid and with some more practice, it will grow.

There's no shortcut here - but if you have a hard time getting your muscles to do just what they are supposed to do, you can at least have this consolation: The next time you try to learn motor skills similar to the one you are struggling with now, it will be easier, and even easier the next time, and at one point you will be floating along, effortlessly. Don't give up. Keep practising. Be gentle with yourself - you will get there.