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When someone says they’re weaving at 8 epi, that is the sett. That means they have 8 warp strands in one inch. I define sett a bit more in my last blog post on this topic.
Weaving is a gridded structure. The images we make have to fit onto the grid formed by the warp and weft.
Because the structure so easily forms squares, making other shapes is more challenging in tapestry weaving. But of course we do want to weave something besides squares!
Susan Iverson was in Fort Collins this week to do a couple lectures in conjunction with the show FABRICation which is traveling from Virginia Commonwealth University. VCU is the school where Susan was a professor in the School of Arts, Craft and Material Studies department until her recent retirement.
Susan's practice of tapestry weaving has many similarities to my own. We both weave on floor looms. We both value abstraction and weaving tapestry that relates to the gridded nature of the medium. And there is a deep sensibility from her around materials.
In the last post I talked about the important relationship between warp and weft sizes when weaving tapestry. These questions are intimately connected to sett.
Sett is most easily understood as the number of warp threads in a unit of measure. In the USA we use inches, in Europe you probably use centimeters. (Don't get me started on why the stubborn United States never switched to metric. Yes, Europe and Canada, your way is better.)
So think about your loom. If you hold a ruler up to your warp and count the number of warp ends that occur in one inch, you will know your sett. Like this.
In tapestry weaving, the relationship between warp and weft is an important one. How to reach a happy consensus between these two elements of your piece is not immediately obvious.
These questions might sound familiar:
What warp should I use? How do I even decide with all those numbers?
Why is my warp showing?
Why does this weft yarn look so bad woven when it is so pretty in the skein?
Why is my fabric so loose?
The warp has a big job. Warp is the ground of your piece. It is the tightly-held strings upon which your image is built. The warp is completely covered in traditional tapestry weaving, yet it is the necessary core of the structure.
James Koehler was my mentor. I was his student and apprentice for about six years before he died unexpectedly on March 4th, 2011.
I like to remember James on the anniversary of his death each year. And this year I think he would be pleased that I was able to celebrate his life with a mutual friend and someone who has been a mentor to me since he passed. Sarah Swett is an artist full of the joy and mystery of creation. And she takes that love of life and fiber right into her work and her writing.
Sarah wrote the forward to James' book, Woven Color. Though the imagery in their tapestry work is very different, there are many similarities in their approach to weaving. As Sarah says in her forward, they both experienced early adulthoods spent in isolation. James was a monk and Sarah worked alone in the Idaho wilderness as a forest ranger and caretaker... "experiences which forged lives of self-discipline, honed inner resources, and influenced, in one way or another, our subsequent work. Physically and metaphorically, we both weave in our ends."
You blink your eyes and it is February again. Anyone else feel this way?
Last year I posted the #thetapestryheart project on my blog. To be honest, hearts have never been my thing, but I enjoyed that weave-along a lot. So, since it is already February, I thought we'd do it again.
. . . .
I never was a real heart girl. On Valentine's Day when I was a kid, I used to wear black. I think it was the mark of a lonely, shy kid. Today I'm a happily in-love adult and I am perfectly willing to weave pink hearts... This year I sat down during the State of the Union address determined to bring more love into the world. No black Valentine's projects. I doodled this little heart-inspired shape and started weaving.
