Wow, hello! There are a lot of new faces here, so welcome to my mini Ted Talks!

I’m a massive nerd when it comes to weaving, yarn, and history, and I’m here to babble about all of it. I came to Substack because I wanted a space for longer-form content that isn’t through a camera or crammed into 5 seconds on Instagram. My goal is simple: be open about the work I do, help people learn about weaving, and maybe inspire a few of you along the way.

I try to post about once a month, but only when I actually have something worth sharing. You all have enough people fighting for your attention already.

Fair warning: I’m not the most elegant weaver. A little rough around the edges, but weaving is what cracked open the world of art for me. I’m constantly inspired by the history, the materials, and the techniques, and I couldn’t be more grateful for finding this craft as early in my life as I did. In a world obsessed with speed and instant gratification, weaving is that reminder to slow down and smell the roses. I think we could all use a little more of that.

So welcome to watching me weave and figure it out. Glad you’re here.

Quick Note on Burnout and Weaving

I know, I know, I beat the burnout point pretty hard in my last post, but one quick little note.

I held perhaps a bit of shame in my lack of timeliness on these scarves. I am a very driven person, I want to always do as much as I can, but this also means I am horrible at taking a break. Getting back to that rhythm of weaving and designing without immediately becoming tired is hard.

I had thought, “What is wrong with me? The scarves are literally planned, yarn bought, just weave.”

If you find yourself in that same stuck place, I cannot recommend Jane at Snapdragon Life enough. She is that warm, encouraging, maternal creative presence we all need sometimes. (Honestly, I wish I had a bit more of this energy within myself.) She has that kind of voice that quietly rebuilds your confidence. I’ll link her video below, if you need it.

Monk’s Belt Design

Alright! To the person who took the New Reader Survey and said you were looking for discussion on design and color choice — this one is for you!

Honestly? Monk’s Belt has never really appealed to me. I could appreciate beautiful examples of it, but nothing had ever made me think “Yes, I want to spend my time here.” Until a client picked Monk’s Belt as a base pattern for a scarf.

While Monk’s Belt was the final decision, the pattern below was actually a close second from the Handweavers Pattern Book — I’ll share it here in case it sparks some inspiration for anyone else.

When the commission came through, I knew I wanted to do two things: get a few scarves out of the warp, and challenge myself to design a version that actually excited me. My biggest hurdle with Monk's Belt is the constant repetitive motif. When the same element repeats without much variation, I start to feel visually overwhelmed. Therefore, I look for ways to filter in transitions which can help break up the piece and help your eye travel through the pattern. That can happen through color changes, pattern sequencing, or negative space, and for this project, all three ended up playing a role.

Colorblindness and Picking Colors

This project came with a layer of challenge I didn't know how to solve for at first: my client is colorblind. Light grey reads as pink for them; some blues shift into purple. Finding colors they were drawn to, that worked well together, and that didn't land in "only black and grey" territory required a lot of thought and back-and-forth.

In the end I kept a fairly neutral base: White and Cream Brown Sheep Nature Spun Fingering Weight, with the white as the primary weft and light and dark grey woven in as accents. The pattern weft color (shown below) came from a local natural dyer, Ethan Pyle at Refracted Lights Fiber Arts. I used their Rivendale DK line.

The punchline? My client forgot which colors they had picked by the time the scarf was finished… but they still loved it, and it coordinates beautifully with their wardrobe. All that careful planning, and they still don't experience it the same way it was chosen. However, the scarves and colors were still appreciated and matched well with their wardrobe.

Design and Execution

To keep Monk’s Belt from overpowering the scarf, I planned for transitions throughout. I created two main motifs — one for the ends and one for the middle. The ends are the most decorative and detailed, while the middle motif acts as a pop of color. Plain weave serves as negative space between the two, helping draw the eye to each area respectively.

My biggest planning tool is Designer, and honestly I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wish I could produce those beautiful hand-drawn sketches I see other weavers share, but digital planning is just faster and more flexible for how my brain works. Being able to iterate colors and structures quickly is everything. The faster you can test an idea, the faster you learn from it. What you’re seeing below was my 8th–10th iteration.

Once I had a strong design direction, I moved everything into my weaving program to work out the details.

In hindsight, there are two things I learned.

1. I wish I had pushed the spacing within the Monk's Belt motif further. The pattern gradually opens toward the center of the scarf, but once woven, the effect felt subtler than I had hoped. I had been cautious about floats becoming too long and catching, but looking at the finished piece, the wool is tight enough that I think I could have pushed a lot closer to the edge of Float Land than I allowed myself to. Lesson noted for next time.

2. Those neat little background bars? Not sure I love how they translated. The scarves where I left them out felt a lot less busy and cleaner.

Weaving and Pricing Your Work

Weaving the Monk’s Belt sections is genuinely demanding compared to the plain weave at the center. It’s lots of counting, attention to color transitions, and deliberate starts and ends. The contrast between that focused work and the smooth, almost meditative plain weave is pretty stark.

Across the scarves I wove from this warp, I ended up modifying the later ones to have fewer color transitions, especially in the background weft to help increase speed. It's a good reminder that small decisions quietly add up at the loom in ways that aren't always obvious until you start comparing. And while "comparison robs you of joy" rings true in many creative contexts, when it comes to pricing your work it becomes essential. Understanding exactly where your time goes is how you learn to value it honestly.

What I always want people to carry with them from a handwoven piece like this is simple: this was made by hand. Woven in a pattern rarely seen at an industrial scale, with a lot of care and intention behind every pick. Even where I pulled back on the complexity, these scarves remain something unique and a reminder of the human element in craft.

More Project Details

For sizing I targeted 10” by 72”, and found this resource from Handwoven really helpful if you’re ever wrestling with scarf dimensions: Ask Madelyn: How Long Should a Scarf Be?

• Size: 10” x 72”

• Warp: Approx. 200 ends

• Sett: 16 EPI

• PPI: 14 and 10

  • I started off at 14 EPI and found those scarves to be quite stiff. I transitioned to a lighter beating at 10 EPI with the plain weave and it had a lot more movement to it.

I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for reading.

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My winter was busy. We started moving the kitchen back in after 8 months of full renovation, and my 100-year-old house needed all the essentials. New pipes, electrical, insulation, lighting, you know, the really glamorous stuff. I may not have new cabinets and trim up, but I have a fridge with an ice maker now! (Watch out world, I’m fancy.) Doing the work ourselves meant living in a lot of chaos and mess, but it has absolutely been worth it. We still have a long way to go, but the kitchen is functional again and we finally have ventilation! That is its own small victory.

This isn’t to say weaving fell completely by the wayside. I wove scarves, rugs, and tablet belts, and even completed my first three-plied yarn, something I had been wanting to try for a long time. I also spent a good chunk of the winter deep in the planning and designing phase for future projects, and preparing for a Sheep to Weave class I am co-teaching, which I am so excited about.

If you’re new here, welcome! I try to make sure every post offers something meaningful about fiber and weaving, because I know your time is valuable.

Corespun Rugs

Most of my weaving projects are detailed and time-consuming, leaving me with an aching back, a pulsing head. So, when I was gifted some corespun yarn, my brain immediately started finding ways to overcomplicate it. “What if I placed another yarn in between some rows to add little valleys or small pieces of yarn with the corespun to make a little pattern? What pattern would it be? What if I dyed the corespun?” Overcomplication led to nothing being completed, and eventually I had to just force myself to sit down and weave. No grand plan. No elaborate structure. Just get it done.

And honestly? It was exactly what I needed during burnout. The simplicity of it was a real release.

I wove at 5 EPI in plain weave using leftover Brassard Cotton and Cotlin I had on hand. One of the corespuns came from GetBentz Farm, intentionally spun from their Icelandic Sheep’s winter coats. Winter fleece tends to have a higher micron count, which means increased durability. This yarn was beautifully spun, not overspun in the slightest. It came out at about 2 PPI and produces a wonderfully thick, soft rug that is genuinely lovely to stand on.

The other rug used corespun from Round Barn. Their older corespun yarn had a reputation for being overspun, which caused some curling at the corners, but this batch came in at about 3 PPI and worked up nicely. For both rugs I used 100 yards and I finished with a weft-faced hem using some grey yarn I had on hand. I’m really happy with how they turned out. I’m looking forward to watching how they wear over the years.

Biodegradable — Plastic vs. Natural Fibers

It’s no secret that I work primarily with natural fibers. I love their diversity, the way they feel, and the way they perform. I love knowing exactly where they come from, I love watching fiber emerge from the ground, or being made by happy sheep, bouncy rabbits, or industrious little worms. There is something deeply satisfying about that connection.

And many of us who gravitate toward natural fibers also feel good about choosing them for environmental reasons. They biodegrade! Easy win, right?

Well, maybe not quite so simple.

A 2026 study examined textile fiber pollution by analyzing a 150-year sediment core from Rudyard Lake in Staffordshire, UK, a lake historically downstream of cotton and silk mills. Using forensic fiber analysis, researchers recovered 67 individual fibers dating back to approximately 1876 and found that cotton and wool dominated throughout their samples. After 1979, fiber accumulation rates increased sharply, driven primarily by a surge in cotton alongside the first appearances of polyester, nylon, and acrylic.

The study’s most significant finding challenges the widely held assumption that natural fibers biodegrade reliably in the environment. Because natural textile fibers are heavily chemically processed during manufacturing (dyed, treated, finished) their biodegradability is far less straightforward than we tend to assume. The lab studies used to support “biodegradable” marketing claims also don’t reflect real environmental conditions. The authors argue that promoting natural fibers as green alternatives to plastic, without fully understanding their environmental persistence, risks repeating the same mistakes we’ve made with other plastic substitutes.

I’m not saying we should throw out the baby with the bathwater and abandon thoughtful fiber choices altogether. I’m sharing this because I think being open to new information is part of caring genuinely about this craft and the world it touches. Sustainability in fiber and textile production is incredibly nuanced. There is rarely a clean, universal answer, and I think that’s worth sitting with rather than glossing over.

The authors put it well:

“Natural textile fibers have considerable potential to extend technofossil assessments of human impacts on the environment... We therefore call for an urgent response from researchers to thoroughly assess the environmental prevalence, persistence, and impacts of all textile fiber types. This is necessary to ensure ‘green’ claims about material choices within the fashion and textiles industry and associated policy are appropriately informed.”1

I’ll be following this research closely. The more we know, the better choices we can make and I think that’s something worth getting excited about. I am really curious to see how the fiber community reacts to this and how we handle it. I don’t know it all, but all I can do is continue to learn and to be open to new ideas. Afterall, we’re just human and we need to afford ourselves a little grace.

This study caught me off guard, it really does go against a lot of what gets discussed in the fiber community, but the supporting evidence is hard to ignore. I’d love to know your thoughts on it. (Am I totally missing something?)

And I keep coming back to this: how do we as fiber artists make meaningful choices when the science isn’t as clear cut as we’d like? I don’t want to spiral into ‘well everything is bad so nothing matters’ territory, but I also don’t want to pretend the nuance isn’t there. How do you navigate that?

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This is exactly what Jamie Hurlburt alludes to about in the appendix of “The Best Weaving Advice (Nobody Listens to)”: there are certain topics in weaving that will “start a bar fight” the moment you bring them up. Rigid heddles vs floor looms. Temple use. Fiber choices. Dare I ask, which direction do you load your loom?

(If you’re not a weaver, these must seem really silly. As a weaver, they are silly and yet I still feel like I’m writing a political hit piece.)

It seems the moment someone shares their perspective, battle lines are drawn and nuance goes out the window.

The Appendix is perhaps my favorite part of the book with a title of: Worst Weaving Advice Everybody Listens To. It became my favorite part not only because of the advice within it, but because of what it reveals about how we approach differing opinions in the craft. I think back to many conversations held among weavers and can see how we’ve trained ourselves to see advice different from our own as inherently wrong. But that’s rarely how weaving (Or many matters in life) actually works.

I think we crave easy advice and simple rules that can be easily shared online, retweeted, put on poster boards that evoke emotion rather than sifting through the history and nuances of the conversation. Our keyboards have exposed our lack of developed, constructive discourse. We often jump to assumptions and conclusions rather than approaching advice with the curious, context-seeking nature it requires. (I am human, and therefore I can even fail at this time to time.)

This connects to something I wrote about recently: how we’ve exported and forgotten our knowledge of materials and textile processes. We’ve lost so much understanding of fibers and weaving that we can barely recognize quality or understand why certain approaches matter. When that knowledge disappears, we’re left grasping for simple rules instead of developing informed judgment.

So let’s dive into a few of the “Worst Weaving Advice Everybody Listens To” and talk about why context matters.

“You Can Do It On a Rigid Heddle”

Jamie’s take:

“They remind me of people who got really excited about Instant Pots or Air Fryers and insisted you could use them for everything….and while you can make Thanksgiving dinner in an Instant Pot, that doesn’t mean they’re the ideal tools for the job.” pg. 114

There’s absolutely a point here. There is a time for flexibility as a weaver and a time when having the right tool is going to increase your speed and accuracy. The process of automation and speed will always expose your weak points and where you can improve. Weaving tools of all kinds exist for a reason and have been developed certain ways for a reason. It’s critical we’re able to look at the techniques, tools, and application and understand where to use them.

I think it’s fair to say that while rigid heddles are a good vehicle for this conversation, it applies to a lot of other tools. Spinning wheels, hand carders vs drum carders, different types of looms, shuttles are a few examples. While these tools can be used interchangeably, it’s critical to know when it’s time to change and upgrade a tool in favor of saving time and improved quality of cloth.

My position: tool choice matters, BUT rigid heddles have their place. It’s important we look at what we’re doing 90% of the time. Over time, I have dramatically improved my tools and processes for speed and replication. Know when to cave and know when it’s a one-off project.

“Always Use a Temple”

In most part, I agree with Jamie that temples are not always needed. However, there are times when I’ve run into a case of “I need a temple now.” My Countermarch loom has been a dramatic accelerant of this. Her demands as a loom compared to my Jack loom have been quite night and day. Compounded with materials, it’s a clear “It depends” on my temple use.

Amy Blair does a great job of explaining this in her article on Temples in Weft Autumn 2025. As she points out, Damask weavers using satin have leaned on this tool and at times where the weft pull in is creating resistance on your reed, a temple can help. On a project with wool pillows, the temple saved me about an 1” or so tolerance which I needed for sewing the pillow. (Maybe the lesson there is weave in more tolerance…)

“Don’t Be a Yarn Snob”

This brings us back to Jonathan’s superwash wool demonstration. As Jamie writes:

“…preferring natural fibers in weaving is not about snobbery. It’s not about status, and it’s not about showing off how much money you have to spend on crafting. It’s functional.” pg. 130

Jonathan’s reel was purely educational. He showed how the materials react differently. (By the way, he has a great series going to which I look forward to his updates on the differences in wool and superwash.) Jamie also rightfully calls out the different finishing effects between wool and superwash and how that can impact a finished project.

This information can be used to a fiber artist’s advantage. We shouldn’t be so focused on dying on the hill of “which fiber is better” when the real question is “what does this fiber do best for my use case?”

We, as fiber artist, knitters, weavers, spinners, etc. should be aware of the materials we are using and why. I think we owe it to the fiber in our hands to help it be the best ‘project’ it can be. Whenever I spin yarn, I always want to have a project in mind because I want to ensure it’s appropriate. I would never push a Cashmere Merino lace weight yarn take the beating of rug-like use.

(Then once we reach this understanding, then we can approach the: If possible, allow the material to be worthy of the time you’ve devoted to the project.)

Final Thoughts:

Whether you agree, disagree, or fall somewhere in between, I think one thing is very clear: there are reasons to either accept or reject weaving advice when looking at your application. I’m happy to see weavers discuss topics in a manner as to build our knowledge rather than scattering it in unhelpful discourse.

The best advice of the book, “Be Curious”. Don’t let your mindset or rules stop you from exploring and learning.

So, if your exploring gift ideas for your fellow weavers, take look at this book and enjoy! (Also available for digital download).

Last Little Note:

As Christmas approaches, I found my social feeds slammed with advertisements for the Holidays. I found it unsettling and I found myself asking, “When did Christmas become so focused on buying? I just want to have breakfast with my father and have coffee with my Mom.”

I read this quote from another Stack I thought other might enjoy:

“We shouldn’t have to trade the joy of the season for the chaos of consumerism. somehow gift-giving has turned into a full-time job and the pressure to buy more, spend more, show more is exhausting.”

Here’s Hannah not another capitalist christmas part 1: handmade​

May your Christmas weaving be fast and accurate!

The question nagged at me because it pointed to something bigger: this frustration I’ve been harboring about how weavers are undervalued. It’s a skill we’ve exported and forgotten to invest in, moving production to lower-cost regions while losing the everyday knowledge of materials and processes. We take for granted that these fabrics and the workforce behind them can just produce what we need without thinking much further. People have lost the knowledge of materials, and in that, weavers are undervalued along with the skills that go with weaving.

I wanted to demonstrate this exactly through a woven piece. I wanted to show something very unassuming at first glance, something that, once somebody interacts with it, reveals there’s so much more there than originally assumed.

Enter the collaboration with fellow artist Jimmy Cob, who created this wild lamp structure that I was to fill in. From its different angles, it reminds of these massive sails on boats. The shape is honestly a bit of a nightmare when you start thinking about making woven fabric fit into it, especially when considering composition. A lot of the fabrics from the last article were aimed at that goal, yet nothing seemed quite right. But the longer I looked at this lamp, the more I realized I could make the lamp into the loom itself.

I didn’t really need yarn to fill it all in. By combining a few mediums, I could literally embody this idea of weaving always being there but overlooked.

As you can see, we cut additional holes in the lamps structure and wove the warp through them to create the base structure. Then I wove paper as the weft to fill in the lampshade. When the lamp is off, you just see paper woven into the lamp. It looks plain, honestly a bit underwhelming. But the minute the lamp turns on, the backlit paper reveals woven-based designs that were invisible before.

The lamp became the perfect metaphor: something that appears simple until you interact with it and suddenly see the complexity, skill, and intention that was there all along. Just like with weaving itself - the minute people learn more about what you can do, how much is involved, they get interested.

This is still in the beginning stages, but it’s taken quite a few iterations and trials to narrow in some of these details. I feel quite happy with it so far. I hope you all are as interested in it as I am.

Other Life Updates

The weaving studio is finally set up! It’s such a relief to have a dedicated space for working where my loom isn’t flowing into the living room anymore. I’m really hoping this setup will allow me to expand into a drawloom in the near future.

And because no weaver’s Halloween is complete without fiber-related costumes, I went as a box of yarn this year. Sometimes you just have to embrace who you are!

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What if I told you these puppies powered thousands of years of weaving, yet we seem to have nearly forgotten about them today. In general, our society has become so divorced from the world of textile production has led to a severe lack of understanding of the skills, processes, and appreciation for textile arts. While it might be frustrating others might not know what they are looking at and why it’s special, it leaves an opportunity for us to share these skills as if it’s new!

What is a Drawloom?

A drawloom refers to a loom with a pattern attachment device, this makes it consisting of ground and pattern harnesses. When we refer to the ground harnesses, these are the shafts anybody would see on a loom, these are the harnesses making the plain, twill, satin patterns we’re used to seeing on my most looms. The pattern harness are additional harnesses that weavers pull to activate, allowing us to reverse the pattern in the warp by pulling a pattern shaft, thus creating a fabric called Damask.

Damask:

A Self-patterned weave with one warp and one weft in which the pattern is formed by a contrast of binding systems. In its classic form it is reversible, and the contrast is produced by the use of the warp and weft faces in the same weave… 1

Doesn’t make sense? No worries, photos help.

Pretty simple! (Ha…) If you’re really interested in more detail, please watch Amy Blair’s, “Drawloom Mechanics 101: Damask”. She explains the mechanics in more detail than I would even want to attempt.

Drawloom Mechanics 101: Damask

The Part Where I Geek Out About History…

These looms fueled and inspired thousands of years of weaving. The earliest evidence of ‘pattern’ techniques dates back over 2,000 years to the Han Dynasty and through various regions along the silk road, though the drawloom reached its most advanced form by the Tang Dynasty in the 7th century CE.2 34 These complex fabrics that built fortunes and dressed royalty were a powerhouse long before the Jacquard loom arrived in 1801. These fabrics were complex, highly sought after, symbols of wealth. If we were to look into these silk weaving workshops from 1612 in Amsterdam, a description like this could emerge:

“…35 pieces of kaffa of various qualities and colours, different types of wound and unwound silk, 10 looms, warping mills and a gumming frame… of 10 looms in the house: two were empty and the other eight were being used for weaving. From the prescence of a total for 27 harnesses for kaffa looms and 26 bundles of simple cord, it is clear kaffa, a figured velvet was being woven there on drawlooms.”5

You have to admit, woven items like these are stunning pieces, all made on looms before computers and Jacquard Looms. Yet, we as a society have forgotten about the methods of production. Whether you’re using a weaving sword or a Drawloom, it’s clear there are few but impactful resources on the topics. (Resources down below!)

Let’s talk cost for a second. Yes, weaving is expensive. I’m not going to sugarcoat that. A drawloom is definitely an investment. But here’s the thing: I think we’ve fallen into this trap of believing ‘I can’t weave that without an expensive computerized loom,’ and honestly? History proves it doesn’t have to be.

Drawlooms offer incredible value compared to computerized looms, giving you access to complex designs without the computer headaches, electrical demands, or tech support nightmares. (Not dismissing computer looms, they’re fantastic! But let’s acknowledge what older technology can do.)

And the more I dig into weaving history, the more I realize how much knowledge we’ve lost. John Becker’s book on looms describes complex textiles woven on what we’d consider ‘simple’ looms, yet these fabrics were highly sought after, created without any of the fancy equipment we assume is necessary today. Ann Nygard’s book even shows you how to build your own drawloom.

Christopher Buckley has a chapter on drawlooms with quite a few different drawlooms from different regions similar to the ones above.6 They are not these large, towering, looms I have been used to, but they work! I look forward to reading more about them and sharing it with you all.

What I’m really trying to say is this: the loss of weaving knowledge has made textile production seem more cost-prohibitive than it actually is. (Are we as weavers more focused on the aesthetic of our weaving areas and looms or the work itself?) There are ways to mitigate costs and alternative methods, we just need to be open to them.

Thanks for joining me for a little geek out session! I don’t think I realized how much of you all were actually reading my posts, thank you for your support. I hope I’m at least entertaining and sharing something worth your time. Just for that, photo of Kettle Moraines Farm Shetland Ewes:

Resources:

When a Single Harness Simply Isn’t Enough – Sara von Tresckow.
Dueling Rabbits - Amy Blair
Manual of Swedish Handweaving - Ulla Cyrus Zetterstrom
Damask and Opphamta with Weaving Sword or Drawloom - Lillemor Johansson with Appendix by Amy Blair and Becky Ashenden
Weaving Damask - Ann E Nygard
Pattern and Loom - John Becker - Pattern-and-Loom.pdf

While the kitchen remodel is looming near the finish line, I thought I'd share what I have been working on. I finally finished off a pillow for Wisconsin State Fair, while I didn't place, there are some pretty cool aspects to this piece. The colored yarn is handspun and the motifs closely match the motifs in the beveled glass in my century home.

Our home is a Craftsman, four square bungalow that was originally a kit home. The stained glass throughout the house, built-ins, and beveled glass are all slightly different, sourced from various manufacturers at the time. Rather than trying to replicate just one piece of glass, I noticed they nearly all relied on diamond patterns in one way or another, and thus, my design was born. I didn't want the pillow to be out of place, but rather to compliment what the house already offered and shined with. I did mess up the sewing of the pillow a little bit, but that's okay.

I was also gifted a 60" Cranbrook loom to which I am beyond blessed. The weaver is a close friend whose diminishing sight has forced him to put down the shuttle. My heart breaks when I hear stories like this. I know the joy this craft brings to me and that which it brings others, so to face the reality of our limitations and that which age brings leaves me a bit somber.

However, I do take it as an opportunity to dearly treasure what has been gifted and taught to me by these mentors. It not only reminds me of the generosity of those in the craft, but renews my stewardship of the craft alive and well.

I feel weavers are deeply connected to our looms and tools. Even when I've sold a previous loom, it was important to me that it went to a good home. These are tools that will last with care and attention. So when I was faced with this loom, I knew I couldn't say no. I knew I had to give it a good home, hopefully with me for a very long time.

The first few projects on this loom will be in dedication to these friends. They're a vibrant part of our small community and I'm so incredibly thankful to have them in our lives. These projects are rugs which they had specifically requested and gave me the yarn for. But the latter project will be a blanket in Lee's Surrender using wool from a mutual friend's sheep. This was the last project the weaver had on the loom and I find myself driven to complete this project for them.

It will be a good introduction to the loom, stepping into another weaver's unfinished work. I'd like to think it will be a peace offering to this loom, mourning the aspect of facing our own mortality, paired with knowing we can find and finish our work within our communities. To me, these handwoven pieces are never just yarns thrown together. They are crafted with materials and purpose that tell a story. When I complete that blanket, I'm not just finishing his work, I'm continuing a conversation that started long before either of us picked up a shuttle, or before the sheep were even born.

This is what I think gets lost sometimes in our fast-paced world, when we weave, we're participating in something timeless and communal. We're stewarding stories, preserving techniques, and creating an unbroken chain of makers that connects us across generations.

In this space of changes, my looms are folded away (protected from the dust of the kitchen) and I have two spaces in my house that will soon absorb my weaving life. The master bedroom will now become the master weaving studio and the basement will house the other looms. I see these spaces as room for my weaving to breathe. I am currently cramped in the living room and a corner in the basement, both haphazardly thought out.

I want there to be a lot of light in these spaces, room to work with large desk areas, cork boards, shelves that I can clamp my tools to. While the basement certainly won't be a Pinterest studio, I want it to be cozy while being wildly practical. These spaces will be intentional, dedicated room for the craft to grow.

There is so much more work ahead of me before I can think about another project on these looms, but I have quite a few ideas brewing… stay tuned!

I’d love to hear of those mentors and friends who make your community and help inspire your work…

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There are so many traditional weaving principles that get flipped on their head. Color choices that would normally be stunning? They disappear unless there's serious value contrast. All those beautiful weft floats I love? They show up from behind when backlit, so both sides need to look intentional. This challenge has been quite from to learn from.

It's really narrowed what weaving techniques I can work with and has pushed me toward exploring other materials in my weaving. While there are a lot of manufactured fabrics that diffuse light, this would take a lot of time for a weaver to source. It's not impossible at all, but at that point, I wonder, "Is it then worth it to just buy the manufactured cloth?"

While I'm still wrestling with that question, I've come to work with a material I didn't expect – paper! Not just normal printer paper, but really fibrous and soft Kozo paper – a type of Japanese Washi paper. After all, paper like this has been used to make paper yarn and clothes for generations.

I've also been exploring different structures and materials, such as adding wire for supporting freeform shapes or even weaving in a wave pattern. However, I suggest this fabric remain under tension as much as possible to hold the shape and integrity naturally lost due to open spaces in the weave.

There's nothing entirely eye-opening here – I just wanted to share what I've been working on because I'm excited to see where it's heading. I'm finally pulling out these long-stored notes of information I knew I'd use one day. It's amazing we have all this information so we can pull from other artists and learn from them

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This is process some artists might never want to share – trade secrets, perhaps. In some ways they could be, but it's also exposing the heart of the work we do: trial and error, experiment, finding out what works and what doesn't.

More to come, I already have Round 2 in process.

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Sjoukje Colenbrander has compiled an extraordinary archive of the Dutch silk weaving trade. And what struck me most wasn’t just the level of detail, but how eerily familiar so many of these patterns, economic, social, political, still feel today.

The book opens with the migration of skilled Protestant weavers from Antwerp after 1585, who brought their expertise to the north and laid the foundation for a booming silk industry. These refugee artisans helped shape a city with an unusually high concentration of skilled labor, and Amsterdam and Haarlem flourished as urban textile centers because of it.

We get a detailed look into the structure of this world: the years it took to climb the weaving career ladder, the guilds that enforced hierarchy and quality control, and the regulations that dictated workshop size, fabric type, and production rights. I loved the illustration showing historical weaving studio that would be common in the day.

Colenbrander also explores the fabrics themselves, including pattern samples woven on drawlooms—technically advanced looms that enabled stunning, intricate motifs. These weren’t just textiles; they were luxury goods and cultural capital, traded across Europe and central to the Dutch economy.

One statistic stopped me in my tracks:

“The weaving industry employed about 1/6th of the population in Amsterdam and Haarlem.”

In 1642, that meant over 21,000 people. To put that into context, that’s how tech functions in Silicon Valley today, or how entertainment dominates employment in Las Vegas. This wasn’t a sideline cottage industry, this was a major economic engine.

Yet it wasn’t without its tensions. The Dutch East India Company (VOC), headquartered in Amsterdam, often undermined local production. You’d think the VOC would support domestic industry, but the opposite was often true. As the book notes:

“The reproach to the VOC never varies: they are importing too little raw silk and far too many finished fabrics. The former was injurious to the mills, the latter was to the disadvantage of the weavers.” (p. 17)

That same concern, foreign imports undercutting local labor, still drives global trade debates today.

Another area that felt especially modern was the concern over creative ownership. Weavers and pattern designers were deeply protective of their intellectual property, fearing that designs could be stolen or replicated. While we may not be defending 17th-century damask patterns in the same way, the conversation around design theft, copyright, and artistic credit is still alive and well. Whether you're selling handwoven scarves or uploading work to Instagram, the risks are familiar.

Ultimately, this book did more than teach me about history, it reminded me that the struggles and adaptations of weavers are part of a lineage that’s still unfolding. The context may have changed, but the lessons remain deeply relatable.

What Can Today’s Fiber Artists Learn from This?

Whether you're weaving in a studio apartment or running a full workshop, the story of this silk industry holds valuable takeaways:

1. Knowledge Is Built Through Community

Amsterdam’s weaving boom wasn’t isolated. It grew through the movement of people, the exchange of ideas, and the development of shared knowledge. That hasn’t changed. Today’s weaving communities (online and off) are vital spaces for sustaining our craft. Techniques are passed hand to hand, thread by thread.

2. Value Your Labor and Name Your Worth

It took years to become a master weaver, and guilds protected skills, techniques, and standards. While we don’t have those same structures today, the lesson remains: your time and skill are valuable. Fiber work is labor-intensive, and undervaluing it only hurts the field as a whole.

3. Diversify, But Don’t Overextend

The 1600s weaving economy thrived on its ability to pivot, adding new patterns, adapting looms, adjusting to regulations. As artists today, it's tempting to do everything—sell, teach, post, produce endlessly. But sustainability often means pacing ourselves, finding a niche, and avoiding burnout.

Final Thoughts

When Weaving Flourished is not an easy read. It’s dense, scholarly, and deeply focused on the economic and regulatory backbone of the silk industry. But for the weaver, artist, or textile enthusiast hungry for context and historical depth, it’s more than worth the effort.

Hope you guys enjoyed, Keep Calm and Weave On!

I'd been putting immense pressure on myself to be perfect. Somewhere along the way, I'd internalized this belief that if I was going to share my weaving with the world, it had to be flawless. I had to be flawless. This perfectionism, piled on top of my already-full project load, had me completely frazzled.

It's fair to say I'll always want to do my best… and I'll probably always be my harshest critic. But there comes a point where this pursuit has seriously diminishing returns. I was pushing myself to that edge without even realizing it. My natural ability to plan ahead and see the map was gone. I could only see what was in front of me and it was suffocating.

The wake-up call came during a fiber retreat with friends. I showed up already feeling late (at least in my own mind) only to discover I'd forgotten a bag at home. Looking back, that bag wasn't even important, but in the moment? I felt so disappointed in myself. The "should haves" started flooding in— I should have checked, should have slowed down, should have been more organized, should have, should have, should have.

But these women? They took me in and quickly disarmed all that unproductive nonsense. It was if they could see that cloud over me, smiled and laughed, and shooed it away as if it was meaningless piece of lint. Within an hour of being there, I knew I was at this retreat for a reason for they offered grace when I had none for myself.

The weekend reminded me just how isolating weaving can be. It's something I forget until I'm around others, that solitude has become my normal. But these brief moments of connection were incredibly refreshing. Watching and listening to others work slowly pulled back my blinders, giving me intimate glimpses into their projects and lives. We shared stories, bounced ideas around, enjoyed hearty laughs, and savored long stretches of peaceful creation together.

Weaving and art relies on off community for inspiration, growth, and knowledge. While creating in a vacuum for short periods of time can be productive, it’s not a place to foster dynamic environments that we need to improve our skills or craft. Just as our lives are tied to the world in which we pool inspiration from, this is just as much as our work needs to be tied to it too. This includes us.

For my fellow weavers and fiber artist (or really, any fellow introverts out there), consider this your regular reminder: reconnect with your community. Step out of that comfortable box of isolation now and then. We rarely realize how much we need it until it happens.

And perhaps most importantly—give yourself the grace you'd so easily offer a friend. Perfection isn't the goal. Connection and creativity is.

How do you break that isolation period?

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And yes, I'm totally dropping this "Loom for thought" in hopes to add a bit of nuanced and constructive conversations about the true potential of natural fibers. And no, I'm not an expert - just a passionate learner excited to share what I'm discovering. While we might not use the applications listed below, it’s important to recognize what powerful building blocks our “Yarn” offers. (After all, computer programming has roots in Jacquard looms!)

Take wool, for instance. It's not just a warm sweater material – it's a complex fiber with incredible properties. From different animal sources like bunnies to sheep with varying characteristics of breathability, durability, warmth, and softness, these fibers are just a small testament to nature's incredible engineering. But beyond performance, wool is proving to be an environmental asset. Shaniko Wool Company1, has shown how thoughtful herding practices can transform grasslands into powerful carbon sinks. Proper land management with sheep can actually help sequester carbon, turning what many perceive as a simple agricultural product into a crucial tool for improving land quality. These aren't just fibers– they're environmental powerhouses with great performance.

(One day, I’ll probably write a blog post diving into the nuances of farming practices and fiber production. If we care about food sustainability and practices, why shouldn’t we scrutinize natural fiber in the same way?)

Scientist who recognize what these fibers are and what they can offer. It might not be directly from sheep and silk worm themselves, but scientists are discovering that natural fibers are far from primitive – they're cutting-edge building blocks for everything from medical innovations to sustainable technologies. What we once saw as simple textiles are actually intricate, multifunctional marvels that could transform healthcare, environmental conservation, and industrial design. One exciting development in this space is the emergence of bioengineered alternatives—materials designed to mimic natural fibers while addressing sustainability challenges.

If you’re as intrigued as I am, I’ve included resources below so you can explore these innovations with me.

Brewing Yarn - Bioengineered Fibers

We are familiar with brewing beer. What about brewing yarn? A few years ago I had read scientists were working on artificially producing protein based fibers, however, being in

development and not ready for commercial scales, I sighed and figured it would be a long way off before I’d see anything meaningful on it. However, imagine my surprise finding them popping up in my newsfeed!

Spiber2 is a Japanese company that has developed a proprietary fermentation process that transforms plant-derived materials into protein fibers. Manufactured in Thailand, these fibers are now being used by approximately 40 brands.

A quick summary of how their process works, Spiber identified the DNA of protein-based fibers and used this information to create artificial versions. Their "Brewed Protein" polymers are produced by engineered microbes, extracted, purified, and then processed into fibers, resin, and film. The process can mimic wool and silk, making it suitable for knitting and woven applications.

Brands like North Face and Botto Guiseppe, a popular Italian mill, have joined with Spiber to create fashion lines and to develop yarn. The North Face has even joined in with a capsule collection entitled “BREWED PROTEIN™ Collection In Harmony with Sam Falls”.3 According to sources, these fibers feel just like the real thing. I would imagine, they should function in the same manners too. Guiseppe partnership, “resulted in the development of yarn blends containing 20%–50% Brewed Protein fiber combined with cashmere, as well as 100% Brewed Protein worsted yarn…”4 for shirts and suits.

Perhaps what is most interesting about this fiber is their claim of environmental benefits:

• Compared to cashmere, it has 70% lower human health impact, 82% lower ecosystem impact, and 32% lower resource depletion impact.

• Compared to merino wool, it has 25% lower human health impact and 14% lower ecosystem impact—but a 95% higher resource depletion impact..5

While I don’t expect to see their yarn in a Local Yarn Shop any time soon, it’s very interesting to read about a company from a consumer perspective that is finding ways to manufacture natural fiber yarns when Micro-plastics and petroleum-based textiles have become a large discussion in fashion and environmental concerns. There are other companies that manufacture spider silk for cosmetic and composite material applications, however Spiber seems to remain unique in their direct exposure to the market and consumer products with brand announcements.

Silk is so cool, we all know it!

Shout out to for a fantastic article on “The Future of Silk” with Silk Silklab (Tufts University) are absolutely blowing my mind with the incredible innovations they're developing using silk protein. I highly suggest you read their article, but here is my TLDR:

"Silk is not a fashion statement. It's a set of microscopic Lego blocks that he and his colleagues are pulling apart and reassembling into an array of unexpected products." - Fiorenzo Omenetto, Silklab director.

Silklabs innovations include:

• Vaccine patches that dissolve painlessly and can be mailed directly to you

• Medical gloves that change color when contaminated

• Food preservation coatings that keep produce fresh without plastic waste

• Potential skin care products that could replace synthetic petrochemical ingredients

• Biodegradable surgical implants that heal with your body

Today's skincare ingredients often come from petrochemical companies. While not necessarily harmful, their production involves toxic chemicals like cyanide and heavy metals. Many of these synthetic compounds enter our food and water systems, and their biodegradability remains uncertain.

From potentially revolutionizing healthcare to reducing food waste, silk is proving to be so much more than just a pretty fabric. Nature continues to amaze us with the solutions it is hiding in what seems to be something simple. This article really highlights the applications of our fiber doesn’t just apply clothes, but to revolutionary technologies that could improve quality of life and increase sustainability.

Conclusion

I realize most what was shared above may never come to apply to our lives, but there is pride and hope in seeing natural fibers and their contributions taking a world stage after decades of watching the popularity of natural fibers decline. While fiber enthusiasts may engage with these materials in seemingly simple ways, our appreciation for sheep, bunnies, and plants has ultimately paved the way for these scientific breakthroughs.

We should take pride in what the scientific community is learning from natural fibers. As I often say—sarcastically, of course—“What could possibly be interesting about yarn?” Because let’s face it, too many people underestimate the importance of fiber and textiles.

In the meantime, Spring is approaching, and I am watching for my White Mulberry Tree to begin it’s leaf production for my own silkworms and their silk. My bunnies will be happy to have outdoor time again. While I don’t use wool pellets in my garden, I have been throwing my scrap wool yarn into my compost.

Fibers aren’t just tradition—they’re the future.

Other notable resources to mention:

• Organic cotton, naturally colored cotton, Growing projects: Vreseis (Fox Fibre) VRESEIS LIMITED

• Information on fibers, fiber industry reports, fiber certifications, Textile Exchange also publishes and share a lot of information: Knowledge Center - Textile Exchange

• List of Raw Material Certifications on Fiber: An overview of all relevant certifications in the textile industry - PERFORMANCE DAYS functional fabric fair

Footnotes

I’ve come to realize that complexity isn’t always a mark of mastery. Sometimes, it serves as an escape—a way to avoid the painstaking practice of foundational skills. It’s easy to get lost in grand ideas, but true craft lies in executing the simplest tasks with precision and intention.

A few weeks ago, an acquaintance approached me—he is easily at the center of the party. Often wearing masterfully crafted hats and rings of all shapes and sizes, he doesn't care what society has outlined. He jumped right in as he voiced his frustration: “They’re all either woven elsewhere or the yarn comes from elsewhere. I want something that is a ‘cheeky’ mauve, all USA made. USA yarn, dyed, and woven. Can you make that?”

His request sparked visions of grand, intricate designs. Yet, as I mapped out these ideas, I confronted a familiar truth: bringing them to life would require an unreasonable amount of time for my current set of tools, especially on a 47 x 60” throw. This is the cost of complexity—the clash between my aspirations and my practical limitations.

Practice and embracing conflict…

In annoying moments like these, I’m reminded that I don’t need more sophisticated tools to convey the meaning behind my work. I need to find creative ways to achieve my vision within the constraints I have. It’s about embracing where I am now and exploring the full potential of the tools in front of me, rather than rushing to the next upgrade.

After all, there are so many items we praise the precise nature of craft, the perfection some markers pursue and achieve. So, why should I be so eager to move onto the next without practicing with what I currently have? This about balancing drive with attention to detail, preparation, and methodical steps.

I think the other extent of this belief to expand our tools focuses on consuming items and tools that we don’t particularly need or will use. If we haven’t perfected or practiced enough on the loom and tools in front of us, how can we expect to immediately jump into the skill for the tool ahead of us? It can set a trap that this tool will make us better artist when we barely invested the time into the skills for our current tools.

I see this a lot in our communities, we buy tools believing we will use them. Rather, they sit staring at us, like creatures in the dark with shining eyes peering out at us, they invoke a sense of guilt in us for not using them – at least for me they do. It’s also why I feel so weird about buying yarn for the sake of building a yarn stash or just because “It’s pretty”. Yes, there is so much pretty yarn that I want to have, but I worry it will sit, and I will never use it. If it cannot be used, then am I doing the yarn justice by regulating its life to a shelf?

I particularly worry these complex ideas, and various tools give me a sense of ‘false’ advancement. This false advancement isn’t just about tools; it’s about identity. It’s easy to feel like a more accomplished artist because of the complexity of my ideas or the sophistication of my equipment. But deep down, I know that mastery isn’t about appearances. It’s about showing up and doing the work—even when it feels repetitive or mundane. It’s about the quiet discipline of practicing the basics until they become second nature.

So, with this in mind, I found this time my limitation on complexity didn’t frustrate me like I found it usually would. Instead, I found myself quite comfortable in the conflict and thought how I could represent such a unique individual within the scope of my skills and tools.

Cheeky Mauve became my exercise in restraint and intention – it surely will not be my last. I had to simplify my design ideas without compromising on meaning or impact. It was about doing more with less. I used a double weave twill pattern where half had a variation on the twill, creating two distinct textures within one cohesive piece. It was simple but layered with subtle complexities that revealed themselves slowly, rewarding patience and curiosity. Even the yarn adds to its quirky nature, it has a yarn variance and vegetation that really add to the design with its tactile and visual complexity. In the end, the blanket has very traditional elements, but reveals its secrets the longer you look at it.

By embracing simplicity, I found myself more present in the process. I paid closer attention to the evenness of my beat, the tension of the warp, the interplay of colors as they intertwined. Every step became a practice in mindfulness, in focusing on what was right in front of me instead of chasing after the next grand idea.

In fact, one of the hardest aspects of the project was the time in finding a USA sourced yarn that met the color requirements I was looking for. Ewetopia’s Sustainawool line rose to occasion! I loved the heathered look of the yarns and how they related to another. I’m happy I visited their location, for I don’t think their online photos do the color justice.

This project challenged me to rethink how I measure progress—not by the grandeur of the design, but by the growth in my skills and the depth of my engagement.

Are you chasing complexity for the thrill of advancement, or are you fully exploring the tools you already have? What would happen if you embraced simplicity and practiced with intention? I’d love to hear other thoughts and experiences. Perhaps even suggestions or your own challenges.

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Apps and their algorithms pull me in, drowning me in an endless current of content. By the time I resurface, the sun has set, and my most precious resource—time—is gone. It’s a cold and brutal realization, I feel disgusted and drained. I know better. I have real passions, real work that brings me joy. And yet, the cycle repeats.

I read that 53% of my generation struggles with doomscrolling, and I’m surprised it isn’t higher. I hear from so many people who come home exhausted, make dinner, and scroll—only to feel worse. Doomscrolling was even one of Oxford’s words of the year in 2020. This isn’t just a bad habit; it’s a designed experience, engineered to keep us engaged.

In college, I had a professor who studied technology’s grip on human attention. He introduced us to The Hymn of Acxiom by Vienna Teng, a hauntingly beautiful song that eerily captures the algorithm’s grasp. I highly suggest you give it a listen.

Let our formulas find your soul.

We'll divine your artesian source (in your mind),

Marshal feed and force (our machines will)

To design you a perfect love

Or (better still) a perfect lust.

O how glorious, glorious: a brand new need is born.

Despite knowing all this, even artists—people deeply engaged in physical, hands-on work—aren’t immune. Weavers, fiber artists, and makers post videos of our process where we are focused and present. The camera merely exposes our craft that is heavily involved with radically beautiful physical aspects of our world. And yet, we still get caught in the scroll. We don’t live under a rock—just under a loom. And looms don’t shield us from Silicon Valley.

The creativity and skill within our community inspires me daily. I even do a little happy dance when one of you follows me back. (Okay, a big one—my fiancé has to hear about it.) Social media connects us in wonderful ways, but every healthy relationship needs boundaries. So why did we let social media slip by without any?

They sang the mighty song of cat videos and we gave them unfettered access to our brains. These platforms will always have a plan for our time, our money, our attention. But as artists, we have to fiercely protect our focus. Rick Rubin, in The Creative Act, talks about the obstacles that hinder creativity—feeling unworthy, needing the “right” tools, being overwhelmed by ideas, or getting lost in distraction and procrastination. He reminds us:

“Create an environment

Where you’re free to express

What you’re afraid to express.”

This can mean different things to others. For me, that means taking deliberate steps to reclaim my focus.

My TV sits unplugged in the basement, I have no smartwatches. I stick to paper whenever possible because screens mean internet—and distraction. To stay focused, I’ve set time limits on my social media apps. If I can’t find music within two minutes, I put on noise-canceling headphones and work in silence. No podcasts (unless they’re audio-only with no YouTube ads), no background movies or shows—anything with a screen is designed to steal attention. For days when I don’t want headphones, I keep a simple speaker nearby instead.

It’s why I am shifting to sharing more through blogging rather than Instagram. In hopes to help others break away from death scrolling and offer something more intentional.

It's not just essential to our ability to focus long enough to create our work, but to sustainably practice and engage with life for inspiration and ideas. As weavers and artists, we should craft our environment for focus with the same care we bring to our work. Every choice counts, no matter how small.

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Lately, I’ve been wanting to step back from social media. Death scrolling feels more draining and mind numbing than inspiring, and if I’m honest, it doesn’t leave much room for creativity or joy. So, why should my main way of sharing what I love rely on a format that doesn’t even feel good?

This blog offers a chance to shake things up, a little break away from the noise and give space to have real conversations without worrying about the extra media fluff. This blog will be a bi-weekly to monthly post about weaving, fiber, and a bit of life.

I started weaving in 2021, so I won’t pretend to know it all. But weaving has become my first use of the arts as a means of self-expression. After growing up in a turbulent household, stepping into fiber arts has felt like stepping in “Wonderland”—each new discovery offering boundless promise and adventure. This passion has driven me to many corners of fiber arts; raising silkworms, angoras, shearing sheep, learning to spin, restoring a Zakuri, and growing linen and cotton – all connecting me to a vibrant community of fiber enthusiast who have become dear friends.

I hope this blog becomes another thread in that connection of internet and fiber. Thank you for being here and for your time. Let’s see where it takes us.

If you do want to follow me on Instagram, knock yourself out! SaminFiberland Instagram

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