Back in May, I posted about a rare picture showing a woman plying, and there was a bunch of comments (thank you! It's always nice to have some feedback, and some discussion), and now I've finally gotten around to try it.

I dug out two spindles, one quite full and one with just a little yarn on it, and a third empty one, and gave it a go.

Here's the picture again:

[caption id="attachment_5309" align="alignnone" width="411"] Bibliothèque Nationale de la France, Manuscript Latin 7330, liber astrologiae Georgii Zapari Zothori Fenduli, c 1301-1400. Fol. 30r, if I’ve interpreted things correctly. Permalink to the page in the digital BNF.


Because the picture looked a bit like there might be one strand of yarn running around her neck, and the other straight, I tried that first, thinking it might be easier that way to control tension. Well. It didn't work at all for me; it was hard to impossible to control the two spindles and winding off the yarn from them.

Consequently, I tried it straight from the two spindles - and oh, yes, that is much easier for me. Rolling off yarn from the two spindles in the left hand went surprisingly well and evenly, even though there was much less on one of the spindles. What I did was pull a length of yarn out with the right hand, then set the spindle into motion, moving my right hand up and down the length of doubled yarn while the spindle turned, to let the twist distribute evenly. Once enough twist was in the two plies, I wound the finished bit onto the spindle, then repeated by winding (pulling) the next length.

I'm not the Queen of Plying, and it's neither a job I particularly like, nor one I'm very good at, no matter the tool and method. This way to ply, though, felt like it could offer more control that I've had with other methods, not least because it is possible to control both spindles in the left hand individually. Opening or closing the fingers in question some more can fine-tune the tension on one of the yarns, and it's even possible to give one of them some extra turning motion to even out things, or to help when yarn gets "stuck" unwinding, as it sometimes does.

So... back to the picture. While most of the commenters and me suspected that there might be one thread running behind her back, Satekai very rightly observed the woman's also wearing a cloak (which is magically staying in place, but never mind that for the moment), and the "yarn" going across her shoulder might just as well be the outline of her cloak on the shoulder. Which is an interpretation that I'd now totally second, after a) my try and b) judging from two other comments: Joy Wandrey saying she has had good success, and was able to control tension quite well plying off two spindles (I assume that was direct as well, as there's no mention of anything being led around anything else) and Jane's comment about having problems when plying off two spindles, one held in front and one behind.

This is definitely something that I'll try again. It would be wonderful to have a quick, easy, and reliable plying method, and one that is documented for the Middle Ages to boot!

 

The two woad balls are drying slowly, and their outside is turning darker - blackish blue, or so I think.



Woad leaves, I also learned, have a rather characteristic smell... which is quite green, and quite interesting.

Another thing that is currently drying: The first batch of spindle whorls. It's time to make some more hand-formed ones, so I'll be doing that spread out over the next few days.



Which also means that if you have documentation about a (hand-formed) spindle whorl that you'd like to see in my shop, tell me about it! I'll then attempt to make a few approximations, and if they survive firing (which, sadly, can never be guaranteed) you can buy them...

While there are plenty of medieval images showing spinning with spindle and distaff, usually with the spinner shown in a position with the spindle hand/arm almost fully or fully extended, there's very little pictorial evidence for plying.

I've come across one image recently, though - this one:

[caption id="attachment_5309" align="alignnone" width="390"] Bibliothèque Nationale de la France, Manuscript Latin 7330, liber astrologiae Georgii Zapari Zothori Fenduli, c 1301-1400. Fol. 30r, if I've interpreted things correctly. Permalink to the page in the digital BNF.


That lady is not using a distaff, but instead she's holding two filled spindles in her left hand, and plies the threads together with the spindle hanging below her right hand.

Now that's definitely a rare picture, and a method I do have to try! Anyone here ever tried plying this way already? Or do you know more pictures like this? (Or, while I'm already blegging, images of spinners not in the classical one-arm-fully-extended position?)

There's a lot of wonderful colleagues in my field (and it's a small field, so you get to know most of them after a while). One of them is Eva Andersson Strand, who has been doing textile archaeology for a very, very long time now. She's also one of the people who feel strongly about the importance of practical work in textile research and reconstruction, and that tools and their use are a wonderful way for us to learn about the past processes in making textiles.

I've had a good number of discussions about spinning with her, which were always vastly interesting - even though we're not completely in agreement in regard to a few things. But I feel that discussions like these are one of the ways that we, together, as a field of science, can progress.

And by now you're probably wondering why I am writing this - well, Eva and her work are featured in a long and very nice article in Science News (for which I was also interviewed, about one of our favourite discussion topics - the influence of the craftsperson vs. the tool in spinning). The article is a well-deserved praise of her research efforts, on a variety of textile tools and techniques, and worth a read - I hope you'll enjoy it!

The new spindle whorls have arrived, and they are lovely!

While I make the hand-formed whorls myself, I have a professional potter who throws the whorls for me, after "inspirational pictures" of finds of spindle whorls that I send him. I always order a large batch (as that makes things more efficient), and it is a special pleasure to write there, as he lives close to the place I was born... so I am, in some way, buying "native soil".

This time around, I had done some more research and found that light-coloured whorls seem to also have been rather common. So I did ask for a second, light colour clay for the whorls - and I got a third colour thrown in for good measure.

I also asked for some lighter-weight ones. Fun fact: The current production of wheel-thrown whorls happened to peak in the same weight slots as my last production of hand-formed ones, which is in the 20-22 g slot.

So now I am fully stocked again with whorls! I even have them all weighed and sorted already. When I started selling spindle whorls, I kept them in one large box, and I picked out one when somebody ordered. But since some orders are for a specific weight, I've found that it is much easier for me to weigh them all once and keep them into some kind of sorting box, organised into 2 g slots. That way, if someone asks for a 21 g whorl, I only have to look at the 20-22 g whorls to find the right one (and yes, I will put them onto the scales again and see if I can't find one that is somewhere between 20.7 and 21.3 g... just because I can).

If you feel like you need one, the shop is updated, and I'm all happy to sell these new colours and new old shapes!

After showing you the dead whorls yesterday, it's probably time to also show you the survivors - so here's part of the yield, hanging out in a basket and feeling decorative:

By now, the whorls have all been weighed and are sorted in boxes - they range from below 8 g to almost 70 g in weight. The heavy ones are modeled after prehistoric whorl finds - and yes, it is astonishingly hard to match a given size and shape, as you can see here:

I find it really hard to make some shapes, among them the longish ones and the ones with a sort of T-profile. Roundish or double-conical is much easier for me, and I'm wondering if someone else would have a different experience, or if there's some special technique to making these other shapes easily. You can see in the picture that I didn't really match the original shape of whorl no. 14 - even though I tried really hard!

In some cases, with some shapes, I am quite happy with how close I got, though. Like with this one:

As a final note, it might amuse you that I managed to get only a few whorls within the weight range I was mostly aiming for - while I happened to (again) hit spot-on a few other ranges with a lot of whorls. If this continues, I might have to make a sale for these weight ranges!

The spindle whorl firing is done - so now I have plenty of hand-formed spindle whorls again. This time around, there are some decorated ones, and quite a few of these are formed after actual examples from prehistoric finds. Though, of course, I cannot guarantee that their shapes and weights are close to the originals - especially their weight will probably be quite different even if the size and shape matches, as different materials and different amounts of water and temper make a huge difference in the density - and thus the weight at similar size.

This is one of the many reasons why making whorls and pit-firing them never gets un-exciting. It may be boring (forming whorl after whorl after whorl can be really mind-numbing), but there is always a good amount of insecurity left. Especially regarding firing.

Will they all get enough heat? How many of them will be completely black, or completely light? And most importantly:
How many of them will come out undamaged?

As the pit-firing procedure is only sort of controlled, some whorls in the batch usually come out more or less of damaged. The most common cause is probably a small air bubble that has gotten trapped inside, followed by adverse conditions when heating up, such as getting too much heat too quickly, or too much heat only on part of the piece. Or the clay being still a little bit too moist - even though I try to make sure that the whorls have enough time to really dry out.

Obviously, all these things are more probable on the really large whorls - and this batch, one of the big ones did die a spectacular death, giving out two very loud bangs right after I started the firing. It was accompanied in its venture to explode by two smaller ones... so a total loss of three whorls for the firing batch.

While this is, obviously, a total loss, there are always some whorls that only lose a little chip off their surface. They are otherwise still okay, and they can work just like undamaged ones - but of course they are not making their way into my for-sale stash of whorls.

I call these whorls "Salamander Snacks" because, as every reader of medieval bestiaries knows, the salamander can live in the fire unharmed. So obviously, the reason for how these whorls look is that a salamander living in the fire got a little peckish and took a nibble (or in some cases, a bite) out of a whorl.

While last time around, I had quite a few salamander snacks in the batch, this time it was only a single one - but the salamander has been quite hungry, it seems, as it took a large-ish bite:

I hope it enjoyed its snack!