I did not originally plan to weave in Iceland. I had thought more about spinning and knitting, but on the very first day here at 8pm, bleary eyed, tired from travelling, and already falling asleep, I went up to the weaving studio, just a short flight of stairs, and almost immediately felt my plans being thrown out the window (into the Blanda and washed away, out to sea). The looms were wooden and honey coloured, gorgeous ancient beasts that were waiting for us to awaken them. Large windows framed each side of the room, letting in the endless daylight, where you can watch the river flow on one side, and the town and mountains covered in lupins on the other.
The next day, while visiting the lab, I asked Shan if they’d be interested in sharing a warp, and we both agreed that it would be a small side project, one that wouldn’t distract us from our original plans. We found two cones of 4/2 cotton thread on the free shelf, one white, one blue, and with the guidance of Ragga, decided on a monk’s belt pattern from the textile’s centers database, after riffling through the sample books that populated the shelves of the studio. Next, after careful consideration, our loom was chosen, on the left of the studio, where the looms for beginner weavers are, we chose the center one, with a perfect view on the river. Our warp was wound quickly and efficiently, before hitting our first roadblock in the form of the rattle. A solution involving duck tape ended up getting us through to the next step, but not before a lot of trials and tribulations.
From there on out, it was more or less smooth sailing, mostly just time consuming and monotonous, till we got to the tie-up. The looms are countermarche, different from the jack looms that we learnt on. Thankfully, Sarah was available to help and honestly just direct us on what to do, otherwise we’d never have been able to weave. After that, Shan took the first turn weaving, while I tried out the tapestry loom, a vertical loom that already had a gorgeous linen warp on it that we could use and pay for by the meter. I’d never seen a loom like it, Ragga had mentioned it was probably an old Norwegian, with two heddles, and two peddles, simply doing tabby. It smelt of beeswax, probably what was used on the wood, and when I cut off my piece, and started finishing my ends, my hands also smelt of it. I didn’t go into the weaving with a specific plan, just played with wool, interlacing, and leaving warp thread open. It consumed me, and I spent a week working on and off, spinning the fleece I had bought for my original plan, but already coming to the realization that weaving would be what I was focusing on.
Shan finished on a Sunday, and I started on the floor loom the next day, frantically weaving our last full week away. I got into a good rhythm, two picks of tabby, one pick of the overshot pattern, and before I knew it, I was almost at the lease sticks, just enough for a couple people to try the floor loom out. We cut the warp off Thursday afternoon, the day before install. It always feels like unwrapping a gift when you unroll the fabric from the front beam and get to see the whole piece at once, instead of rolled up. Divided it up into separate pieces, and then we were done weaving. It felt like the beginning of the end of our time, sensing that the countdown to the last day was dwindling, and that we were saying goodbye to the looms.
Once I came out of the haze of weaving, I realized that both the shuttles I had used throughout my weaving had names written on the inside. M & an Icelandic name starting with a G , that I’m really uncertain of. They’d kept me company the whole time, going back and forth, over and under each thread, and were probably horrified at some of my selvedges. They’d probably sat at this exact bench sometime in the last century and learnt to weave cloth.
