Eye for Detail

 

My mother started me and then my brother on jigsaw puzzles when we were very young.  There were frequently puzzles on the coffee table as I grew up, and she continued making puzzles herself all of her adult life.  I tend to make them and then not for a while until I find I need a break.  Winter frequently sees me wanting such a break, wanting bright colours while so much outside is white or shades of.

Recently I had a student express some frustration.  She had come to the guild room in December during the guild room sale, and wanted to try weaving.  We happened to have a leftover warp from the last weaving class, right before the pandemic, so she was invited to give it a try.  The loom was all set up so we concentrated on just the weaving itself - shuttle throwing, treadling, etc.

"What should I be looking at?" she asked several times.  I told her to watch the shuttle because that was what was moving.

But later I thought about what it is I look at when I am actually sitting at the loom and weaving.  And the answer was everything but also?  Nothing.  

Today I thought about that some, trying to work out what I should answer the next time someone asks the question and I realized that what I do is based on my having spent the proverbial 10,000+ hours mindfully learning my craft.  I have studiously thrown and caught (or missed) the shuttle quite literally thousands of times.  My hands know better than my brain what they need to do at this point.

I have learned how to dress the loom so that there are few issues.  (Not perfect, still make mistakes.)  But even if there *are* issues, I know how to adjust to work around them.  I have learned how to wind bobbins that co-operate.  I've found shuttles that fit my hands and a method of holding them that is ergonomic and efficient.  

I feel the tension of the warp but also?  The drag of the weft as it reels off the bobbin when I throw the shuttle.  I am confident in my physical skills and being able to gauge how tight the warp needs to be for good results, and how heavy the bobbins can be before they cause too much stress to the selvedges.  I know where the sweet spot is and if I weave beyond it, what might happen.  Like the warp thread I broke yesterday because I was too lazy to advance the fell for the last few picks.  And the shuttle ran into a warp thread and broke it.  Sigh.

So what DO I watch when I'm weaving?  Everything.   Nothing.  I rely on my peripheral vision to make sure my selvedges are weaving in nicely.  I feel the flick of the shuttle as it passes to the other side and without looking, can catch it in such a way that as soon as the shed is changed, it can go back again.

I look at the previous picks to see if there are any inconsistencies.  And sometimes I will unweave to correct a loop that has formed in the weft.  Or perhaps the shuttle dove under a warp end and there is a float that needs to be fixed.

I feel how full the bobbin is when I brake the speed of the bobbin and prevent excess weft from reeling off and winding around the axis the bobbin rotates on.  But I also visually check to see how much might be left, from time to time.

My hand feels where the beater is to beat the weft into place.  I rarely look at the beater otherwise.  Just a glance as I look at one selvedge and then the other.

When the warp needs to be advanced, I feel for the brake release with my foot and without looking, reach for the handle to roll the beam forward.

For me weaving is a working meditation.  I will sit down at the loom, put my boombox on and my headphones (that help filter out the sharp clack of the solenoids and preserve the rest of my hearing) and music, mostly from my youth (which spans quite a broad time frame, tbh) plays as background to my weaving.  Quite frequently the music is the perfect speed and I weave in time to the song playing.

I try to limit my weaving to 45 minutes, but it is taking me 50 or so to weave a towel (depending how many times I need to backtrack and fix a loop). so I tend to complete the towel before stopping for a rest.  And frequently I'll be half done the towel before I tune into the fact that I've been weaving for 20+ minutes.  And wonder where the time went.  And then I see how much I've woven and I know exactly where the time went!

But mostly, I rely on my eye for detail.  To look for things that are inconsistent.  Then when I spot them, deal with them.  Whether that's a float, a loop, or a broken thread.  I'm not actually looking at any one thing, just absorbing it all.  Watching for the inconsistency to stand out, to catch my eyes as they flick here and there, up and down, side to side.

Everything.  And nothing.  Kind of like life, really.