Icelandic Wool: Another Double Coated Fleece

Since we're on the subject of double coated fleeces, let's talk about Icelandic sheep. I began my wool education around the time I launched Expertly Dyed, and among those wools I was learning the characteristics of was Icelandic. I wanted to remove human error from the learning process, so I started using combed top rather than a raw fleece. Here it is in top form:

Here is a closeup of the hairy, outer coat fibers. They're the dark, black fibers (note: all white Icelandic fleeces exist, mine just happened to be gray, a mix of black outercoat fibers and white undercoat fibers)

The lighter fibers, which you can see in the picture below, are the softer, undercoat fibers.:

It made a lovely 2-ply fingering weight yarn, as you can see in the following pictures:

And here is a sneak peek at my sample book (I'll do a formal post on how to make such a book in the future):

Let's talk about some terminology. There are specific terms which refer to the two coats; the tog refers to the outercoat, and the þel (thel) refers to the undercoat. In most combed top, both coats are processed together. But there are many ways you can use this fiber, and a mixed coat top is just one of the ways you can prepare this fiber.

For a mixed coat preparation, you can use this fiber to make lacy shawls, sweaters, and outer wear, like coats and jackets. The tog will help keep moisture away from the softer, downy fibers, and the þel will trap warmth. In essence, a mixed coat yarn will provide many benefits to the wearer as they do for the sheep. It is important to note that, according to the current issue of Spin-Off (Winter 2015), you should spin this type of mixed coat yarn loosely. This will help keep the hairy fibers from poking out of the yarn and causing irritation, and it will allow for more space between the softer fibers for trapping more air. The result is a durable, lightweight, very warm yarn. Lopi yarns are made from this type of prepared Icelandic fleece, and either knitted without twist or a low amount of twist. the setting process for a lopi yarn will involve a hot bath and lots of enthusiastic thwacking to cause the yarn to fluff and full (fulling, in the felting sense). This information will give me the opportunity to learn something new from the leftover Icelandic top I have in my stash.

If you want to just use the þel, you'll need to separate it on your own. Some small mills might be able to separate the þel from the tog if you send them a whole fleece. If you do it by hand, you can identify the hairy fibers by their length, then pull the longer, tog, fibers from the shorter, þel, fibers. Keep both! The þel spins up beautifully, and can be used like most soft yarns. Unlike typical fine fleeces, Icelandic þel fibers won't be as dense nor as full of lanolin, to wit, the þel is more open and ready to spin.

Use the tog for outer wear, rugs, tapestries, grocery sacks, and the like. Combine this coat with the outercoat of other breeds so you can make a larger project more easily. Spin it worsted to make an ultra durable yarn.

Though my Gotland isn't full of the tog fibers, I'm still going to keep those fibers for a future project. It has an incredibly long shelf-life, like 50-100 years before it starts becoming brittle. I'm very excited to move forward with my Gotland project, even though I don't feel like separating and opening up the locks at the moment. I'm nearly done combing open my Polwarth locks, but I want to spin something before I continue with my Gotland. :)

Have you used Icelandic before? Do you have any tips/tricks to share? Post them here and/or on Facebook. 

Double Coated Fleeces: Gotland?

Back in the day, several millennia ago, sheep had a double coat. They had an outer, coarser, hairy fiber, and a softer, shorter, undercoat. The outer coat had micron counts in the 40+ range, and the inner coat had micron counts in the 15-25 micron range. And they shed naturally. Likely through selective breeding, sheep came to possess an all-over woolly coat which needed to be sheared. Archaeologists have discovered that this undercoat was significantly softer than the later woolly versions.

When wool became an important commodity for the family, we see a dramatic change in their attitude towards sheep...and one result is a sheep coat with a more consistent micron count. An unfortunate side effect of a woolly sheep is a coarser lowest micron count for the whole fleece. For example, if a sheep has an 18 micron undercoat and a 30 micron outer coat and is bred for a uniform fleece, the overall micron count might only get as fine as 23 microns. This is an oversimplification of a complex breeding process, but the result allows for a family to quickly shear and process wool for their needs, as well as allowing for intensification for surplus. Which brings me to the idea of 'primitive sheep.' These sheep still exhibit the double coat which sheds naturally, and breeds include Icelandic, Soay, and Shetland.

A fan of Expertly Dyed, Annbritt, came to visit her son in Korea. With her, she brought a full two pounds of Swedish Gotland wool for me to have! I began removing the coarser outer coat hairs from the softer undercoat. Here is the softer lock:

And the hairy outer coat (you can really see how wiry it is!):

Today, I flipped open my Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook to read about Gotland, and was a little surprised. Gotland sheep is a twentieth century breed, though it has roots in primitive sheep breeds like the Goth and Gute. But it isn't marked here as a double coated sheep. My Gotland has a very distinct hairy coat. More investigation was needed!

I had trouble finding information about the Goth, but the Gute is listed in the F&F book as a double coated sheep, as well as two other sheep used to create the Gotland sheep: Karakul and Romanov. So, it would appear that though the Gotland breed is meant to have a uniform coat, occasionally their primitive ancestry is expressed. I believe that my Gotland was from a sheep (perhaps an older sheep?) which possessed a dual coat. It doesn't bother me since I've processed Soay and Icelandic from the raw lock, but in general, you shouldn't need to process Gotland as a dual fleece.

I've been trying to get my hands on the Stansborough Gotlands, raised in New Zealand, but their wool is particularly sought after. One day I'll finally get some. Their wool is extremely fine, lustrous, and lightweight while still having drape, which is why it was chosen for the elven cloaks in Lord of the Rings. The Swedish Gotland I have will be exceptionally close in fineness and drape, so I'm looking forward to making a woven scarf with it once it's spun. I'm very grateful to Annbritt for bringing me this lovely wool, and I hope that other spinners give these interesting breeds a chance. Our purchases encourage small farms to continue raising rare sheep.

Warp Weighted Loom Update #3: Defining the Iron Age

In my last update, I talked about the wool that would have been available to Iron Age people in Europe. I also mentioned that textiles are very rare, and because of the rarity of archaeological samples, we don't really know for sure what type of sheep they used, only that the wool has undergone dramatic changes over time. Some information about wool has been discovered through the scientific testing of sheep skins found contemporaneously, such as the micron count of each part of the sheep (ie, prime fleece, leg wool, etc.).

I've mentioned the "Iron Age" several times now, but I haven't said what I'm calling the "Iron Age." Generally speaking, tool technology advances into subsequently sophisticated tools to make life easier and warfare more deadly. But tool technology doesn't begin everywhere in the world at the same time, and in some cases, two or more tool technologies will be used simultaneously in various parts of the world. And even one a group of people began using a new tool technology, they didn't completely give up on their previous tool technology (can you imagine how ludicrous it would have been for everyone to switch over to cellular phones in 1993 and get rid of house phones?). While most of us know a few details about the Iron Age in general (ahem, they used iron tools), it's important to know from which Iron Age I'm gleaning information.

The Iron Age I will be referring to throughout my research is in Central Europe (Germany, France, Spain, etc.), Western Europe (Britain, Scotland, and Ireland, etc.), and Northern Europe (Scandinavia). In this part of the world, the Iron Age arrived about a thousand or so years later than it began in the Near East (Egypt, Mesopotamia, and India). If we travel from east to west, the Iron Age began in Central Europe around 850BCE, in Western Europe around 800BCE, and in Northern Europe around 400 (or 300) BCE. The end dates for each aren't quite so clear cut. The indigenous populations in Central, Western, and Northern Europe did not write historical accounts, so much of what we know about them comes from outside contemporaries. The Roman invasion introduced the indigenous people to a historical tradition (and Christianity) and were they were flooded with Roman culture. Rome conquered many cultural traditions in this area of the world, but some, like the Picts in Scotland (around 100BCE), retained their autonomy from the Empire. Generally speaking, the Iron Age 'ended' in Central and Western Europe by the middle of the 5th century, approximately at the time of the fall of the Roman Empire. In Northern Europe, the Iron Age didn't 'end' until as late as the Norman Conquest of England (1066CE).

The Iron Age followed the Bronze Age, and was a critical period of cultural development across the board. Iron tools proved to be more durable and could hold a sharp edge for longer, but most significantly, iron can be forged. The technology used for making bronze items is through a casting method, where the hot metal is poured into a mold and allowed to cool. It could be honed to a sharp edge. Bronze is a softer metal than iron, so it couldn't maintain it's edge for nearly as long. If a bronze weapon chipped or broke, it must be melted and recast again. The differences in smithing techniques for bronze and iron were that iron required a very hot furnace and a specialized annealing process. During this transition period, iron was more used for decorative items than for weapons.

Since the information archaeologists have managed to piece together for any one particular area, temporally and spatially, is rather meager, it behooves me to utilize information from a generalized Iron Age period of 'western' Europe. Textile fabrics do not preserve well, and are most commonly found in environments like bogs, ice, salt (like table salt) mines, and metallic salts (salts produced as metals decay in acidic soil). Because of these specific environments, preserved textiles are contextual outliers--meaning, they are one of a kind given the time period in which they date, and anomalies given that there may only be a few textiles found in a certain geographic region. Inferences must be made about the type/appearance/etc. of textiles in surrounding areas, and the evolution of textile types/appearances/etc. in a single area.

For example, let's say part of a tunic is found in modern-day Paris, France, which dates to 125 +/-25 BCE, and is dyed with woad. We can infer that these people had an advanced understanding of natural dyeing and we can know this by studying modern societies who still use natural dyeing techniques. We can also infer that people in the same area probably knew how to dye with woad as well, especially if the plant is present in that area. For the most part, this assessment would be accepted as a highly probable statement--but that doesn't mean all groups that existed in the same area knew how to dye with woad. Unfortunately, though people buried their dead, they didn't also bury time capsules...we have to go with what we find in the ground.

I'll be using the information about a generalized 'Iron Age' to guide me on my quest to make a warp-weighted loom and use it to weave a scarf (let's shoot for realism). By pulling information from various parts of the western Iron Age world, I'll give myself a better chance of understanding the types of cloth which were made and deciding whether people were making cloth for specific purposes or for mass production. I'll go into those details in my next update, where I will talk specifically about what I've learned regarding loom weights and how to set up a warp to produce the best piece of fabric.

In these updates, I've been trying to merge two different fields of study together, that of archaeology and textile studies, and I hope I am doing them justice. If you feel like I missed something or that I got something wrong, please let me know! I am a master in neither field, but through these personal efforts, I hope to gain some level of mastery of both. In addition to grad school (which should be starting for me this summer), I'll be continuing on with this project until it's completed, no matter how long that takes. With ya'll there to read and offer support, I think I can make it through this daunting task. Thank you for reading about my journey!

I've also updated my bibliography, in case you are keeping up with me:

Current Bibliography:

Albarella, U., Johnstone, C., & Vickers, K. (2008). The development of animal husbandry from the Late Iron Age to the end of the Roman period: a case study from South-East Britain. Journal of Archaeological Science, 35(7), 1828-1848.

Andresen, S. T., & Karg, S. (2011). Retting pits for textile fibre plants at Danish prehistoric sites dated between 800 bc and ad 1050. Vegetation history and archaeobotany, 20(6), 517-526.

Degano, I., Ribechini, E., Modugno, F., & Colombini, M. P. (2009). Analytical methods for the characterization of organic dyes in artworks and in historical textiles. Applied Spectroscopy Reviews, 44(5), 363-410.

Frei, K. M., Berghe, I. V., Frei, R., Mannering, U., & Lyngstrøm, H. (2010). Removal of natural organic dyes from wool–implications for ancient textile provenance studies. Journal of archaeological science, 37(9), 2136-2145.

Good, I. (2001). Archaeological textiles: a review of current research. Annual Review of Anthropology, 209-226.

Joosten, I., van Bommel, M. R., Hofmann-de Keijzer, R., & Reschreiter, H. (2006). Micro analysis on Hallstatt textiles: colour and condition. Microchimica Acta, 155(1-2), 169-174.

Rast-Eicher, A., & Bender Jørgensen, L. (2012). Sheep wool in Bronze Age and Iron Age Europe. Journal of Archaeological Science.

Ryder, M. L. (1987). The evolution of the fleece. Scientific American, 256(1), 112-119.

Strand, E. A., Frei, K. M., Gleba, M., Mannering, U., Nosch, M. L., & Skals, I. (2010). Old Textiles—New Possibilities. European journal of archaeology, 13(2), 149-173.

Tomlinson, P. (1985). Use of vegetative remains in the identification of dyeplants from waterlogged 9th–10th century AD deposits at York. Journal of archaeological science, 12(4), 269-283.

Vanden Berghe, I., Gleba, M., & Mannering, U. (2009). Towards the identification of dyestuffs in Early Iron Age Scandinavian peat bog textiles. Journal of Archaeological Science, 36(9), 1910-1921.

Viklund, K. (2011). Flax in Sweden: the archaeobotanical, archaeological and historical evidence. Vegetation history and archaeobotany, 20(6), 509-515.

Defining 'Art Yarn': What are We Really Talking About?

The other day, I posted on Facebook that I am torn. I want to sell handspun yarn in my Etsy shop, but traditional handspun just doesn't sell well there. It sells in spurts, but mostly it sells at fiber conventions and craft shows. Now that I have my new fiber tools (hackle and blending board), I want to start selling my art yarn. And there's the conundrum. I want products to sell, not hang around in my Etsy gallery. After reading some opinions of about art yarn, I realized that 'art yarn' can mean a variety of things. I mean, I already knew that it was a catchall term for all non-traditional, novelty-style yarns. But what are we really talking about when we say 'art yarn'?

In the last probably 10 years, 'art yarn' has stormed the spinning scene. Lots of people have begun spinning because they were inspired to make those fabulous 'art yarns' they saw in magazines and at conventions. I can't blame them! How many kids watched Bob Ross paint beautiful landscapes and wanted to become an oil painter? 'Art yarn' is inspiring, artistic, a statement, and even transcends its intended purpose. 'Art yarn' has moved beyond the concept of yarn and entered a realm of 'meta-yarn.' We can identify it as a thread which can be looped around a needle and formed into a fabric, but in some sense, it isn't functionally yarn anymore (as indicated by 'art yarn' being curated by art museums, thereby restricting its functional use to being solely art).

But not all 'art yarn' is created equal. While some yarn borders on 'meta-yarn' and becomes an accession with a catalog number, box, and database entry, what about the other 'art yarns?' Well, that's fuzzy, but also clear-cut. When you first look at a hundred pictures of 'art yarn,' you see a mass of crazy uncarded fibers, utilitarian add ins (like nuts and metal springs), and yarn so thick you might consider it rope. If you look at each 'art yarn' individually and mark down their characteristics (single/plied; beaded/unbeaded, natural components/man-made components, smooth/chunky, etc.), two distinct types emerge: a yarn which has strikingly similar characteristics to traditional yarn (but isn't traditional yarn), and one which defies everything we thought we knew about yarn.

In the first category, I'm talking about yarn which has some exaggerated attribute which makes it non-traditional. For example, thick and thin yarn is an exaggeration of a handspun yarn which isn't spun perfectly even. Even the simple addition of pulled silk to create textured bumps will force a traditional yarn into the 'art yarn' realm. The 'art yarns' which fall into this category are yarns which can be used similarly to traditionally spun yarns. You can make shrugs, skirts, mitts, and more with these slightly exaggerated yarns. You can even use patterns designed for 'normal' yarns with this 'art yarn' just by making a few minor adjustments.

In the second category, no holds-barred. Practically anything goes with this type of yarn, and it's such a freeing experience. Sure, you can get extreme versions of the first category, including super thick and thin yarns and giant silk 'cocoon' slubs. Most of the yarns which fit into this category won't be suitable for 'normal' patterns, even after making adjustments. There are several books on the market which cater to these artistic creations and have patterns specifically designed for these works of art.

I propose a way to distinguish these two types of 'art yarn' without diminishing their amazing qualities as statement pieces. I'd like to call the first category 'Tame Yarn.' I'm imagining a wild beast, full of predatory instincts and majestic beauty...all squeezed down into the tiny, compact body of the House Cat. Anyone who has ever seen a cat knows that behind those eyes of complacency lie the inner desires of a ferocious feline...the desire to attack that string until it stops moving. In a sense, you have a domesticated 'art yarn' in the first category. The point of this metaphor is to describe how the first type of 'art yarn' fits within our traditional notion of handspun yarn. Going from being a family without a cat to a family with a cat is a minor adjustment. We add cat food and kitty litter to our grocery list. For some of us, it's an easy way to dip our toes in the whole animal care business. Maybe if this goes well, we'll buy a farm and twenty sheep. You get the idea.

I think the second category should be called 'Wild Yarn.' And for this, I mean the epitome of King of the Jungle, Mr. Lion himself. He's the perfect balance of strength and relaxation, rigidity and flexibility. This category of 'art yarn' can add in structural elements like wire and suddenly we can't wash this yarn. It can also add in pieces of recycled cloth and cut felt. It can be softly spun and felted together. It can be spun tightly and coiled onto another yarn. This 'art yarn' can be just about anything yarn isn't normally. It demonstrates the incredible abilities inherent in wool and showcases the ways in which it can be worked as a medium by artistic hands. It's your imagination come to life, and every idea you have can be boiled down to materials and construction. Essentially, it's the embodiment of yarn as art.

I wanted to take a quick moment to clarify something. In no way is one category inherently better than the other. They both have their merits, their uses. But each serves a different purpose, I think. The 'Tame Yarn' can be used by those who are trying to figure out how to incorporate 'art yarn' into their current corpus of skills. It can be used by those trying to break out of the mundane and add in something fun. For the 'Wild Yarn,' it speaks for itself. You use this yarn to trail blaze, to boldly go where no artist has gone before. In the end, all fiber creations can intermingle. It wouldn't be unheard of to incorporate a traditional yarn with 'Tame Yarn' tactics (a 2 ply yarn with locks plied between them), or a 'Wild Yarn' with in-line weaving.

I can't say it enough: Wool has billions of possibilities and it can never truly be ruined. No matter which category we're referring to, the yarn speaks for itself. All 'art yarn' makes a statement, whether it be subtly or bombastically.