Holding Pattern

You are ^^ here

I haven't done much in the past month: combination of Pennsic burnout, work fried-ness, getting sick, and overwhelming list of Other Stuff to Address.  (Not least of which is going to three events in three weekends; yeargh.)   I've finished some mending, I've gotten a little further with the $*@& padstitching for the kirtle in progress, I've luceted some points for my consort's linen suit (which I'm not terribly happy with and I think I will fingerloop the next batch; but they'll keep his pants up), and in about two hours I'll be going to Fort Tryon Park and, in partnership with another lady, teaching fingerloop braiding to an unknown but potentially vast number of civilians.   

Much of the recent energy expenditure has been on prep work for leading a pilgrimage to see All The Medieval Embroideries Ever.  I hope to have much to report upon my return, though I expect that (as with most museum special exhibitions) cameras won't be allowed, so don't get your hopes too high.  They better have a bitchin' exhibition catalogue, that's all I have to say.

I did have some lovely conversation last weekend with the doyen of early modern men's clothing, which has helped me understand a bunch of things that were whirling in my tiny skull, and when I finally clear the decks to make my consort's next suit I think it'll be ever so much better as a result.  

Next weekend shall be a long schlep but of much rejoicing; our dear friend and colleague will be holding a panel for Expert guild ranking in couching & laidwork.  If you think of this a dissertation defense, you would not be wholly wrong; so we are rallying around to provide support and also snacks.  

I'm looking forward to October.  Nothing on the calendar (...yet...), work should be calmed down; I have high hopes of actually getting some projects seriously advanced.

Post-Pennsic Roundup; or, A Holiday in Cambodia

Disclaimer: we did not have elephants

This year's Pennsic was not as vacation-ish as most are for me.  We were blessed (?) with unusually high heat & humidity, to the tune of heat indices over 105 many days, alternating with monsoon downpours.  I'm not at my best (to put it mildly) in hot, sticky weather, and even less so when one has to be continually on the bounce to prevent the camp from floating away on a muddy river of fail.  And, most years there'll be a couple days like that here or there, which is OK and one can cope, but a steady progression of them is taxing.

Another issue--as noted previously, I had cut out a linen kirtle before leaving and I was bound and determined to get it finished in time to wear it for my Elizabethan Working Clothes class.  Now, if I'd been at home with no job to go to, this probably could have happened; but onsite, while managing a camp of 70 people, in a climate that completely nerfed my concentration...yeah. No.  So for the whole first week I was additionally stressed about a) not working on my dress in that moment, b) how slow I was going when I was working on my dress, or both.  Finally during the middle weekend, I let it go and admitted I wasn't going to get it finished, and I was able to actually start having some fun.  So, lesson learned: I will not take any project to war that I "need" to finish on a deadline.  It's vacation, dammit.

My A&S display, complete with very decorative

Baroness Chief of Staff. 

Thus, the down-sides.  On more positive notes, I taught two classes and I think both went well (even though about five times as many people showed up than I was prepared for); I showed The Big Damn Banner and the Flat Cap of Success at the A&S display, and I think I came off tolerably well; I fit the muslin pourpoint pattern to my client; and I paneled the Big Damn Banner at the Athena's Thimble meeting, where my guildmates honored me with a ranking of period competency in appliqué.  Another lesson learned: few people will do more than glance at a flat cap on its own, but if you display it on top of a skull, at least you'll get a second look and a giggle.

So that all happened; now I need to prioritize projects for the next couple of months.  I think it comes out something like this:

1. Make up the linen version of the pourpoint commission; which breaks down
1. make up just the lining, and do another fitting.  Adjust as necessary.
2. Take a pattern of that version.
3. Finish it, padding and all, and see how it fits; record all details for when we do the Real One.
2. Finish the @*$! kirtle.
3. Make up the partlet I cut out at the last minute and didn't do anything with.
4. Complete all the lacing holes, and make lacing cords for, my consort's black linen suit.

I'm putting a tentative target date on these tasks of end of September; I think that's not too ambitious, particularly since only the pourpoint should be thinky work.  Though, if it continues being horribly hot, I may have to swap in making braies, hose, and a coif for Himself, so he can wear his Bocksten tunics to events in September with greater comfort.  I'm not trying to plan ahead any further than that at the moment, for the sake of my sanity. Though I'm really kinda hot-and-bothered to make a couple of drawn-thread napkins for our feast gear.

Oh. And. I, um, may have also committed to help create a small schola in Manhattan for sometime next spring.  Which mostly involves calling a lot of places to beg for space that won't cost the earth.  We'll see what happens.

Of Banners and Re-Prioritizations

Saturday, we had us a wee local event that we've run for the past couple of years.  (Well, I say "we"; mostly Beth, but I halp!)  The idea is to have a sewing-themed event at just the right period before Pennsic, so people can get help with their projects and/or learn new stuff with enough lead time to implement.  This year was more than usually chaotic, as everyone is covered in bees, but the immediate[1] matter[2] for me was to put together a class on history and styles of banners (with emphasis on what's useful / relevant in an SCA context).  As previously implied, I struggled with focus on this one, as I kept coming across interesting references that I wanted to track down; which in most cases to describe it as "falling down a rabbit hole" dramatically understates the nature of the transaction.

One of the many cool banners
lost by Charles the Bold in 1472.
It's a tiny tiny standard, really,
though I don't know why it doesn't
have his usual motto ("Je lay
emprins") on it.

Ahem.  Anyways.  I produced a thing, and the feedback I got is that it's pretty good, and that I should teach it at Pennsic too.  I'm too late to get it in the hard copy course catalog, but a lot of people are using the online one in preference anyways, so...?  And we've decided, jobs willing, that we're definitely going to go for both weeks, so I could schedule this for the first week and not go completely batshit.   In all honesty, just as with the Elizabethan working clothes class, I feel as if I'm not doing anything super-genius, just collating and processing and contextualizing a whole bunch of data that's already out there, and couldn't anyone do this?  But on the other hand, it doesn't seem like Mister Anyone is, and the core idea is to make good information accessible to as many people as possible.  Maybe my business card should read "I Troll Through Garbage References On Pinterest So You Don't Have To". 

So, there's that job jobbed; but with only five weeks to go it's time to have a long hard think about my previously-expressed priority list.  I need to pare it down more than somewhat, particularly since some new elements are in play.  Without further ado, then, the revised edition, cast in the lingo of my workplace's Project Management Office:

ESSENTIAL

• Kits for tablet-woven edge class
• Handout for Elizabethan working clothes class
• For my dashing consort:
• 1-2 more shirts 
• 1 grub-able T-tunic
• 1 working (i.e., not form-fitted) Elizabethan doublet
• Hem the five sheet walls for the camp
• Hem the last two Queen's Favors and hand them the $*@& off
• Redo the lining on the Big Damn Banner, so I can a) display it and b) send it back to the owner who has been remarkably kind about the whole thing

IMPORTANT

• Muslin of a pourpoint for the commission I have alluded to
• For my dashing consort:
• Finish the wee flat cap
• Ensmallen the 2 prs. Venetians that are too big
• It's possible that I should frob one of them to sit at his hips, not at his waist, so he can wear it with just a jerkin.  It isn't Historically Accurate, but it'll be a lot more comfy for him if it's a stupid hot year.
• Put lacing holes in all prs. Venetians
• Many many lacing cords

NICE TO HAVE

• For me:
• 2-3 extra lacing cords (finger-looped or lucet)
• Tablet-woven headband with fake braids 
• Embiggen eyelets on some of my older gowns
• an apron or two
• A 16th-century working-class petticoat & smock
• For S.:
• Falling collar that can be pinned to shirts
• More shirts
• (He should have more clothes but I want to see how all the other stuff works out before planning the next round.)
• Canvas-work butt-cushions for our X-chairs
• SOME DAMN BANNERS.

I think I can do all of the Essential, maybe a couple of the Important, and I am pretty sure it drops off precipitately after that.

[1] I also ended up with five sheet walls for the Baronial encampment to hem, but never mind.
[2] And I registered two badges for myself!  I'm kinda smug about that, because it means I don't have to sketch hawks displayed on everything I want to heraldically pee on.  Dear Past Me: I hate you (even if your aesthetic taste is pretty good).

Elizabethan Working Clothes: Drinking From The Firehose

Gerald is also overwhelmed by the source material

I have spent the past week, in between other drama and tasks, accruing even more data (and Chrome tabs), and attempting to capture the portion that will be most helpful to self & audience in a Google Doc*.  At this stage, said doc is a mad combination of explicatory text and bulleted lists, but that's par for this part of the course; I will write out discussion points as I think of them, and the bullet lists are topics to cover when I have them figured out, ahem.   I also bought a bunch of cheapo muslin from Joann's yesterday (since I was out in the burbs anyways) since I figure there will probably be a lot of draping going on, and with a reasonable percentage chance of making a pig's ear of some of it, I don't want to be stopped dead in the middle of a roll for lack of materials.

This is all decent progress, but I'm feeling itchy; I want to stop thinking and start doing.  Conversely, I'm feeling unusual trepidation about starting, because I don't think I have all my ducks in a row yet.  Having been woken up at an ungodly hour for a Sunday anyways (thanks, shrieking children on the street at 6:30am) I took the opportunity offered by some quiet rainy morning time with coffee to graph out my thoughts.  And these are our concerns, Dude:

1. What changes do I need to make to a doublet so that it still looks like the garment we see represented in imagery, but has enough freedom of movement that a man can work a farm in it**?   I don't think that just making it bigger all around is the right answer.
1. Related issue: I'm still not sure how breeches will stay up at most guys' natural waist if they aren't attached to something.  
2. I'll need to line up one of my friends to fit me for my own dress.  I could base it more-or-less off my Florentine gown, but it's a different enough design that I'm going to need help for the last mile, and my peeps are covered in even more bees than I am right now.
3. Do I have the right fabric to use as showcase garments?  Do I have anything even semi-right?  How much should I compromise?  This isn't for professional use, this is to help people who don't know this stuff make OK choices--but shouldn't they have the opportunity to see what the gold standard is?  Should I kill myself (and wallet) trying to get super-period fabrics, like linen canvas and madder-dyed wool, or make do with what my audience is more likely to have access to?
4. How much detail should I include in the class?  I don't want people to drown in it, or be driven off by too much information, but I want it to be a solid and comprehensive platform for them to start from. Where do I draw the line?

Some of these have immediate solutions.  For #1, I'm going overcome my I Don't Want To Be A Bother and ask my expert tailor friends; and I'll also throw on Tudor Monastery Farm (which is a little early for this, but never mind) and see what I can observe.  For #2, I'll cut out a generous muslin bodice draft using the dimensions of my gown and find someone to pin it on me.  For #3, I'll turn out the stash today (stupid rainy day, we were going to go to the botanical garden and look at lilacs) and gather a pile of anything that's Plausible™, and compare it to the source material I have.  And for #4, I will have to come to terms with the fact that I may not get it right for the first iteration.  

Another possible angle is to take it slow with the main garments and work on the smaller and/or better-known technology.  Vide, planned outfits--

For him: shirt (use current one), separate falling collar that can be pinned or basted in, doublet, breeches, stockings (use one of current pair), jerkin possibly, hat

For me: smock***, bodies & petticoat, kirtle probably, stockings, coif, apron

I could work on my smock, coif, and apron; and his falling collar and hat (IT IS CUT OUT FOR FUCK'S SAKE! JUST DO IT!).  It all needs doing and none of it should require outside help.  (I also need to make a metric buttload of points for all his outfits, and I should figure out what my tech is going to be for this oh god aglets & get cracking on them.)

Welp, there's some action items.  On with the motley!

* My modus operandi for documentation is: 1) get all the text down in a Google Doc, for maximum flexibility; 2) import into Word or, better yet, Pages for image addition and manipulation; and then preserve that as the ur-copy and export to PDF which I upload back to Google so I can print it from anywhere.

** This is also a problem I want to attack for the 14th century--what changes do I need to make to a Gothic fitted dress so that it's easy to move in but still holds my bQQbies up?  My blue silk is almost there...but it's cut to the same pattern as my red wool, which fits very differently, and I do not know why.  But I really want a plain dress for kitchen or other scut-work.

*** I haven't made up my mind whether to do a low-cut smock & add a partlet, or a high-collared one and eschew it.  So that's another decision that I should stop putting off.

More Odds & Ends

there's that job jobbed

The first thing I did with the aforementioned free will was to finish, believe it or not, another daisy.  There's a comedic backstory to this (which, to anyone who knows our atelier, is 100% par for the course), but long story short, the Actual Laurel Cloak™ hasn't been done yet (the candidate was robed with a substitute cape-let [that we stayed up all night making {and was still pretty stylin', I must say}]).  It will still happen, and it will still have lots of people's embroidered daisies on it, and mine had been hanging about since August, so I finally got off my arse and finished it.  ONE. MORE. CHECKBOX!

I'd done about 1/3 of the petals in the previous push (see previous post for context re: what I was trying to accomplish), which took me maybe 6 hours in total..whereas it took me somewhat less than that to do the entire rest of the motif, so I think we may safely say that Learning Has Occurred.  There's clearly a lot of room for improvement, technique-wise; when I look at the stitches closely, I am bothered by their unevenness, and I'd like the shading to be more graceful; but I feel it's not bad for a first attempt.  I certainly do understand now why they recommend you actually color in the design with colored pencils before stitching, though.

Once the petals were done, I just did the stem in stem stitch (duh), and the center as well.  Mostly because I was kind of on a roll with it, but also I wanted to experiment with using it as a filling stitch.  I'm not sure about the two colors of yellow--I had a vague thought it would give a kind of textured effect, which I don't think it did exactly, but it's a little more visually interesting than plain yellow all the way in?  Maybe?  Or maybe the spiraling pattern of the stitch would've been enough.  It's not bad, I just don't know if it would have been better.

I'm in a wait state on the possible commission, so I backgrounded that process and spent some cycles on what classes to teach at Pennsic.  I figured to do the hands-on tablet weaving class (mem: buy C-clamps), but I wasn't sure what else; I've taught the class on  linings (or not) in Gothic fitted dresses for the past three years running and maybe I should give it a break, and the pouch class is all well and good but it doesn't have a lot of practical application for most people.  It occurred to me that it might be useful to put something together on working-class Elizabethan clothes for Pennsic (I have a possible title: "No, I'm Not Putting The Tent Up In A Farthingale"), since that's a topic I'm currently struggling with.  It means I have to spend the next couple months making working-class Elizabethan clothes, for myself as well as my dashing consort.  I questioned whether this would be useful in a world where we have resources like The Modern Maker and The Tudor Tailor and Stuart Peachey's series and Drea Leed's site, but the feedback from my Facebook Greek Chorus was overwhelmingly positive.  I do feel a little bit hinky teaching other people's stuff (even with complete transparency and citation), but it was pointed out to me that a lot of fellow-travelers a) don't know or have access to these sources, and b) don't have time or capacity to trawl through it all to get actionable information, so a well-done distillation (especially including the results of field testing) would be valuable to that population.  So, all righty then.

Snippets and Orts

Orts are the little bits of thread you snip
off of a seam or a project that are
too short to do anything with.  There.
You learned something today.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, between holidays, 2 birthdays, and various social engagements that I'd pushed out to when I thought I would have a brain again (howls of derisive laughter, Bruce).  I haven't embarked on any new projects, other than in some early-morning fever dreams, but there are a few loose threads that can be tied off, or dangling chad that can be trimmed, if you will.

1) The professional photos from The 19th Century Wedding Project became available!  I have ordered prints (which just arrived, woo) but, more to the point, here is a formal shot to share with yunz.  Admittedly, when I look at it I keep seeing all the things I want to fix/do better; but I am doing my best to not let those voices shriek too terribly loudly.

Mission Accomplished!  (photo by
Serena Star Photography)

2) The hands-on tablet woven edge class came off tolerably well, I think.  At least, all of the students departed having achieved at least a couple inches worth of decent edge; that seems a reasonable qualification for success, certainly for a first effort.  I got some good feedback on some improvements which should be easy enough to incorporate.  Also, I will definitely have to acquire some C-clamps for everyone if I mean to do this again, sigh.  (It's not about the acquiring so much, but the storing & toting.)

3) I have finished most of the aforementioned Giftmas handicraftery, except one which is making me crazy, and I just can't puzzle it out, and it's almost fucking March and I feel rotten about this.  I just hate the idea of sending an IOU.  blearghghgh.  

4) I've crossed a few items off my perennial mending/fixup list, including finally cutting the half-lining out of my stippled wool dress.

5) I have gotten a couple more inches done on my second winter-sock-for-under-boots. It should be done in time for spring.

Looking ahead, the next Point of Interest is Mudthaw, on April 2nd.  My intended garments are in order (now); but I need to fix my dashing consort's Venetian hose, which currently need large safety pins in order for him to not show his (admittedly shapely and charming) rumpus to the associated gentlefolk.  (I have a whole other post gelling in the back of my mind regarding the weirdness of pants.)  I would also like to use that event as an excuse/driver to finally get 'round to making myself a banner with my arms on it, as there's going to be an heraldic display competition, but I don't know if I have time to do justice to the project...particularly since I don't know a blessed thing about silk painting, let alone having the supplies for it.

When The Class's Birth Is Breech

Limited number of these.

My usual slow ("measured", yes.) pace of class creation has been rendered even more sluggish on this go-round, due to work consuming all of my brain's computrons; a thing that is death to any kind of creative work.  I have, however, been slowly getting thoughts written down, a little here and a little there, as my mental energy allows.   (I should probably get used to this scenario.  I will have some stress off when I hire a henchperson and don't have to do two demanding jobs, yes, but there will always be something going on at work that will eat my brain; I doubt very much that I will ever, with any degree of regularity, come bouncing home from work ready to put in 2-3 hours of heavy writing.  Expectation Adjustment Time!)

This is the first class I have created that's hands-on, as opposed to a general disquisition.  Which is not in itself a problem for me, as I have been writing technical documentation and how-tos for most of my adult working life; but I did have to go and pick a topic that is hard to illustrate just using words, and it became clear I wouldn't have the time/resources to include graphics or photos for step-by-step help.  My aim is that the directions will just serve as an aide-mémoire for the students, who will have gotten to actually practice the technique during the class.  Depending on how well that works, I may have to see about adding some illustrations for the Second Edition.

So, the actual creation--

The first thing I had to do was to let go of getting each paragraph/sentence mostly crafted on the first pass.  That's a methodology that only works if you are full of both time and energy.  I worked on permitting myself to unload scraps of general thought, roughly grouped together, which I could then take one digestible section at a time to polish and craft properly an evening or two later.  This proceeded reasonably well; such that, this past weekend, when I had a happy confluence of dedicated time and a stock of energy, I was able to really buckle down and get the lion's share of the writing done and shaped.  By bedtime Sunday night, I had all the background, historical context, extant examples, materials discussion, and bibliography; I just needed to finish the step-by-step instructions and embed the images I am using with their text captions.  

Gentlemen, behold!  A kit!

I also planned out the kits, and then made them up.  Each kit contains:

• Square of green wool, representing the fashion fabric
• Strip of mustard linen, representing the facing along the buttonholes
• Two tablets, made out of playing cards, punched with four holes each
• Eight strands of lavender DMC floss (well, technically sixteen; each "thread" through a tablet hole is actually two strands)
• Needle, threaded with more of the lavender DMC
• Two pieces of cord or shoelace to attach the ends of the warp to reasonably immovable objects
• ...each in a Ziploc(r) bag.

I had to cut the various fabrics to size, and then I basted the "facing" to the "fashion fabric".  I also pre-threaded the tablets to save time in the class. 

(The colors are by no means chosen for aesthetics; they're as loud as possible so that it's easy for the students to see what's going on, particularly if they go back and look at it later. And, I chose a particularly thick fabric so they can see the potential issues of aggregate thread thickness vs. fabric thickness.)

The last thing I did Sunday was gather together the various example bits and pieces (test tablet-weaving, the pouch of Damocles, various tablet types, etc.) and put them all inna box with the kits. 

Today I'm home sick and my brain is not all that could be hoped, but I have managed to get my reference images sorted out and captioned; something which both Google Docs and Microsoft Word are utter and complete crap at.  After wasting several hours with both of those applications' ridiculous ideas of how to manipulate images around text, I gave up and opened my handout in Pages--yes, Pages, the red-headed stepchild of word processors--and did the same work in about 20 minutes.   All that's left is to put in the last half of the instructions, which I am hoping will be maybe an hour of work, and then print a proof copy.

How a Class is Born

Presented without comment.

Some months previous, I had committed to teach at a schola way down I-95--they were looking for embroidery classes, so I offered up my disquisition on the styles of embroidery and other embellishments you find on 14th-century purses (a class which was spawned by realizing that making a pouch with a single or nué motif on it was wrongity wrong wrong). The super-nice thing about this was that it didn't matter how fried I might or might not be by that point; the class was together, the handout complete, and I'd just have to run off some more copies of it on the big shiny fast color copiers at work.  

However. There were some empty spots in the schedule, we heard at 12th Night, so I, um, kinda, sorta, stuck my beak in.  

This wasn't quite as sucker-ish as I make it sound; I have wanted for some time to properly put together a tablet-woven edge class--I cobbled together a demo/class a few Pennsics ago (didn't even have my handout together), and even as half-assed as it was, it had a lot of attendance and people seemed to Want More.   And as we have seen, I produce far more reliably if I have a public (or equivalent) commitment I need to meet.  So, it's really a certain amount of gaming my own system.

My deliverables, as it were, are:

• 6 kits for students, each of which would include--
• Two pieces of fabric, to simulate the gown/pouch/whatevs
• Two or four (decide!) cards, cut out of old playing cards, with holes punched in, for the tablets
• Eight or sixteen (decide!) strands of DMC floss for the warp, cut to appropriate lengths (and bundled so as not to tangle)
• Floss and needle for the weft
• String, cord, or lace so the students can attach their warp to some reasonably immovable object*
• A handout (sufficient copies thereof) which contains:
• A brief overview of tablet-weaving
• Examples/pointers of extant tablet-woven edges
• A few words on the Herjolfsnes tablet-woven edges, which I just found out about, and which are apparently completely different, and now Imma have to try those somewhere, argh
• Detailed instructions so the students can pick up the handout four months later having forgotten the whole class, and have a decent shot at doing it themselves
• A bilbo bibliography
• Probably a stiff drink.

* Finding ways for a half-dozen people to warp up is going to be tricky, particularly since you never know what is going to be in a room at any given event.  I had originally been going to get this class together for this past Pennsic, and I spent a fair amount of skull sweat on the problem--we actually came up with the bright idea of a dog collar with multiple rings that one could buckle around the center pole of the tent, and each weaver could radiate out therefrom; but I think that idea reads better than it lives and it definitely won't be useful in a school or church or whatever it is.

So other than the "how are we setting up our looms" question, the kits will be pretty straightforward.  I have infinite scrap fabric, oh yes I do, and rather a lot of cotton floss, and a bunch of needles I never use, and there's a pack of cards I never use around here somewhere. Most of the woe will be trying to get the handout together; this is a non-trivial brain task, and work isn't leaving me a lot of brain right now.  But at least I know it all--I just have to get it onto pages and organized.