fibulae, part 3

Great progress here: the fibulae are all fired and processed….

1. The gray, unfired clay was finally dry. 2. After firing, the clay is a hard white ceramic. 3 If you paint dry unglazed clay, the pigment will instantly soak into the clay. But if you soak the clay in water first, then brush on paint, the pigment can be wiped off, leaving color only in the cracks and folds. 4. This time, I added more paint, to darken the clay. 5. When rubbing a brass-bristle brush over the painted ceramic, some of the brass molecules will transfer to the clay, leaving a metallic finish. 6. This gray metallic look allows the fibulae to blend in with the tweed wool, so they aren’t quite so visually prominent.

I discovered this effect some years back when trying to clean wax off one of my ceramic tiles. As you can see (below) the fibulae can now blend in visually.

So all my fibulae are ready…..

…and I’ve got plenty of long needles, heddles, crochet hooks, etc to arm them with….

It’s time to attach!

(above) Here’s the jacket with various fibulae sewn and pinned. (below) Here are the details. Each detail photo has a small inset showing where each one is place on the jacket.

(above) Using the warp threads of a backstrap loom to close up the jacket seam.

(above) Based on an illustration by Ivan Billiken, this one has a distaff, spindle, stylized spinning wheel and a tuft of wool sewn in.

(above)After warping this tiny ceramic loom, I added two shafts from an actual loom heddle.

(above) bursting out from this torn seam, her malacomorph snail shell is hidden inside.

(above) Her Singer sewing machine has a real sewing machine needle

(above) I left this one lighter than the others, so it blends into the shirt, not the jacket.

(below) Since this piece references such obscure history (‘fibula’ and ‘malacomorph’ are not generally well-known) I’m thinking of adding a handkerchief in the pocket, to serve as an explanatory device. I could print the information on the cloth…maybe add a photo?

OK then. Artistic progress is happening. Meanwhile, my art from the one-woman show in Tulsa is now returning home, and my new work is being rejected by all venues….>sigh<…just have to remember: being a successful artist means succeeding in creating art.

Stay safe. Stay sane. Eat more cookies.

Diane

Teasels

First, the plant:

Since all the pine trees in my family neighborhood had tiny little needles, I couldn’t fathom how anyone would be able to make pine needle baskets. It was one of my first lessons in understanding that there are varieties of almost everything.

So when I read about teasels being used in medieval cloth manufacturing, I just knew that they used nice big ones to make teasel ‘hands’ (below). Anyone with more botanical interest should click here http://www.hortonvillage.co.uk/teazle-farming/4594558324

Now, it’s easier to understand this image (below) Note the rack of extra teasels on the left side. These men are napping, one of the last steps in producing the cloth. After shearing, washing, carding, spinning, weaving, and fulling, (with dyeing occurring at one or more stages between) teasels are used to raise the nap of the wool - to make it feel softer and fluffier.

On the website https://blog.adkinshistory.com/teasles/ authors Roy & Leslie Adkins quote from an 1839 Saturday Magazine article: ‘In teazling by hand, a number of the prickly heads of the plant are arranged in a small wooden frame; these frames have then somewhat the appearance of curry-combs, and are used by two men, who scrub the face of the cloth.’

The woolen cloth had too be kept damp, so the teasels wouldn’t rip it to shreds - just enough to raise the nap. Later, this process was mechanized, with teasels arranged in gigs:

(again, from the Adkins) The teasels are brought to the factory in bundles, and are prepared for use by a man and a boy. The boy cuts off part of the stalks with a pair of scissors, and the man fixes the teazles into oblong iron frames, which frames are afterwards to be fitted to the surfaces of the cylinders.’

It seems that teasels were used until the 1950’s, (give or take a decade here or there) when they were replaced with wires. Some purveyors of very fine wool insist that they still use teasels.

By the way…

You’re probably familiar with cozy images of spinners and weavers, but fulling was a ghastly job. It meant stomping on the wool with bare feet in a big barrel full of aged urine.

This site - https://threadingthroughtime.wordpress.com/2014/09/09/whitening-fabric-before-the-advent-of-bleach-meet-the-fullers/ explains ” Fulling or tucking or walking is a step which involves the cleansing of cloth to eliminate oils, dirt, and other impurities. The worker who did the job was a fuller, tucker, or walker. If your last name is Fuller, Tucker or Walker somewhere in your past is an ancestor who did this work to keep him/herself and the family – along with the family name – alive. (Read on and be thankful you missed it.)

In Roman times, fulling was conducted by slaves standing ankle deep in tubs of stale human urine (i.e., urine that was collected and left to sit a while) and cloth. Urine was so important to the fulling business that urine was taxed. Urine, known as ‘wash‘, was a source of ammonium salts and assisted in cleansing and whitening the cloth.

This website https://www.republicofamsterdamradio.com/episodes/historyofthenetherlands/episode-9-weaving-our-way-through-flanders-a-wooly-good-episode has a video showing a man fulling cloth. And this didn’t die out in the Middles Ages. (Below) is a really bad photo from Ireland in the early 1900s, showing men fulling in half-barrels.

The ceramic fibulae just came out of the kiln today! All fired and ready to finish. I’ve also ordered 2 new wire brushes - a bronze and a copper. Can’t wait to see how the copper brush affects the ceramic surface..

Stay warm and safe. We will get through this!

Diane