On Saturday, Nov. 1st, I went to the Northeast Handspinners Association‘s yearly event. (They do an Open House on odd years, and a weekend-long event on even years.) The group changes venue every year, as they comprise spinners from New England and New York state. This year it was in Vorheesville, NY, less than an hour and a half from me. I found out about it from the Golden Fleece Guild in Schoharie. I’m glad I went!

In the morning, there was a talk by noted weaver and historian Rabbit Goody, of Thistle Hill Weavers. The subject was “Spinning in Rural New York: 1790-1840 A Look at Hannah Hayden and Family.” There are around 85 letters to and from a production spinner, Hannah Hayden, and Goody spoke about what Hayden’s life was like as well as the spinning and weaving of the time.

A few brief notes on what I learned from her:

  • There were two kinds of weavers in Hannah’s time.
    • home weavers, who made serviceable items for family and home on timber frame looms. These were 4-shaft counterbalance looms — fairly easy to build and maintain, and broke down into pieces if the family moved. These were women, who had learned to weave by observation, not formal training. They did a fair amount of plain weave, balanced twill, and basic colorwork.
    • fancy weavers, who did intricate pieces on huge looms (almost two stories tall). These were men, who trained as apprentices before setting up shop on their own. They did a lot of figured weaving and carpets.
  • Fancy weavers put ads for their services in newspapers. The ads would specify what kind of yarns were needed, and how much. You either spun your own yarn, or purchased commercially produced yarns (which were fairly new; the cotton gin and spinning jenny hadn’t been around all that long). Sometimes the commercial yarns had to be “doubled”, or plied, at home, as it wasn’t sold that way. The yarn and finished item would both be weighed, so the customer would know the weaver wasn’t stealing the excess yarn.
  • I already knew about linsey-woolsey, as I weave some of it myself. It’s linen warp, wool weft. I read somewhere that it was popular because wool was easier to come by than flax at the time, but there are other theories.
  • There were no itinerant weavers in America. Temporary servant girls might help the home weaver, but the fancy looms were too hard to move around.
  • Spinners of the time mostly worked with flax, cotton, and wool. I forgot to ask if the home spinners were doing all three on the same wheel. (I know cotton does better on spindle wheels like great wheels, because of the amount of twist needed. I’ll email Rabbit Goody; if she answers, I’ll update this section.)
  • Rural houses had wall-to-wall carpeting. The carpets were made in strips, bound together, and tacked around the edges of the room. It helped preserve the floors, worked as insulation, and dirt worked its way to under it instead of needing constant sweeping like bare floors do.
  • In a lot of places in the world (Northern Europe and Ireland for sure, but probably places in the US as well), flax was “smoked” or “roasted” (put in an oven to dry it out) after picking but before further processing. I was sad to hear this as I was hoping to grow my own flax this spring, and I have no place to do that. Pity.
  • I knew that from prehistoric times to the Industrial Age, wool fabric was often sheared and napped after weaving. I wrote a little about it in my History of Weaving talk, under the header “Finishing”. In early America, these specialists were called “clothiers”. Some of them, including Hayden’s husband, dyed fabric as well.

As I remember more, I’ll add it. It was incredibly informative. Goody’s area of expertise is 1600-1850, way later than my area of interest, so it was all new information to me and fascinating.

Goody was also the one who taught my class on spinning flax on a distaff. I took my antique JOS wheel, which has a distaff. It was a cool class, but I doubt I’ll be spinning that way very much. It requires “hackling” the flax, even if you buy it pre-prepared — basically running it through a device that looks like a hairbrush with very sharp spikes instead of bristles. I don’t want to buy one. It’s possible the local reenactment museum might let me use theirs, but I didn’t enjoy it enough to do that at this point.

But I’m very glad I have the skill now, and I plan to practice with the flax I brought home from the class! I’m also not giving up on flax altogether.

Short lesson on flax fiber: it comes in two forms, long-line and tow. Long-line is very long pieces, and is spun from a distaff with your fingers wet. Tow is short pieces, spun dry. When you process flax, most of it is tow. Maybe 25-30% is long-line. Goody taught us that the long flax was used for fancier items, like table runners and tea towels. Things company would see if you weren’t wealthy, I suspect. Tow was used for all other linens — sheets, towels, undergarments, and more. It still spins fine, but not as fine.

I have some tow. I’ll spin some of it soon. I’m happy to know that I can use it and still be historically accurate. Which, of course it is — what culture would throw out 70% of the flax when they’d put in the effort to grow and process it?

It was a damn cool event. I’m glad I went.


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