Samstag, 31. August 2019

On the rainy-sunday wall mural

Even before the move I was daydreaming of painting a mural after seeing amazing murals online. But in a rented flat painting the walls would only mean I would have to destroy it later, besides it would involve stripping wallpaper which then would require me to redo wallpaper when moving out and in total it was just too much hassle.

But now we have our own place. And many white walls. So while buying all sorts of tools and necessities in the hardware store I also got colours for my mural. And on a rainy day I decided to sneak myself out of the obligations of not having fully sorted out our removal stuff and instead paint the mural.

Step 1: removing the textured wallpaper. This step took longest, in part because I was scared of flooding into the edge of the parquet, where cardboard seems to have been used to dampen the sound of steps or to insulate the floor. After two evenings painstakingly soaking and scraping off the two layers of wallpaper, I finally ended up with a clean smooth wall.
Step 2: the sky. I had a small 1l container of white paint, a large 20l container of white, and 250ml each of blue, turquoise, green and black. The colours were fine but I needed much more black later. However first off for the sky I mixed some blue and some black into the 1l until I had the darker colour desired, painted the top of the sky and then added some white to the 1l container and dragged the still blue paint into it to achieve a subtle gradient.
Step 3: Then, adding more and more greens and black to the 1l container, I painted in layers of trees. See the phone in my hand for reference. The basic principle for the pines is inspired by Bob Ross and guessing.
Step 4: Clean up, add furniture back where it belongs and put edging back in place.

Step 5: Have a shower :-D
Formalities:
  • Materials: ~2.5l white wall paint, separated into two containers, 250ml of blue and green (I didn't really use the turquoise) wall paint and 250ml of artists acrylic black paint (which is much more highly pigmented and I used to substiture my 250ml of black wall paint), painters tape and foil covers, water to remove wallpaper
  • Tools: Stirring stick, different sized brushes, bucket for water
  • Time: 6hrs removing wallpaper, 4hrs painting mural

On knitting a breed-specific comforter - Part I

It seems I like to rabbit on about specific sheep breeds, so if I wait to the end of this project the post will be absolutely huge. That's why I decided to split it into two parts... and as I've already finished crafting the first part I thought I might as well start writing it up.

From various projects I had natural coloured skeins of yarn and I felt the need for a huge comforter blanket. So I sorted them by hue and got knitting. As I love rare breeds and as many of these skeins were from or for other projects, it's at the least a breed-specific blanket which contains several rare breeds (though four skeins are Merino which is not a rare breed).

Natural colour rainbow! Also look at the amazing bag my friend Sara gifted me.


Image shows just more than half the full width, unblocked


The pattern is pretty much randomly made up. I started out with a gauge sample in seed-stitch on my 4.5mm long-cable circular needle and then knit the width I want the final blanket to have (the bed it should cover is 160cm wide, so I want the blanket to be 180cm wide to cover the bed and all duvets. After a while I got bored with the seed-stitch, so I then started thinking about adding cables. As a result, I have the following stitch devision
  1.  16 stitches seedstitch border
  2. 54 stitches wide cable panel
  3. 9 stitches seedestitch panel
  4. 1 knit, 1 purl, 8 stitches narrow horseshoe panel, 1 purl, 1 knit
  5. 9 stitches seedestitch panel
  6. 28 stitches central cable pattern
  7. same as 5.
  8. same as 4.
  9. same as 3.
  10. same as 2.
  11. same as 1.

Merino sheep, image taken from Wikipedia




Weißes Bergschaf, image taken from the Schafzuchtverband Niedersachsen (Association of sheep breeders in Niedersachsen).

  • Merino is a breed of sheep very commonly used for wool products. It yields a lot (... or absurd amounts, if you loose your sheep) of fine grade wool, especially if the sheep is white. Commercial Merino wool ist often chemically treated to make it superwash (i.e. washmachine-proof) and to remove vegetable matter. I do not like the feel of the super-slick superwash Merino, to me it has lost the characteristics of wool. So instead I here use organically grown wool from Southern Germany, 300m/100g
  • Weißes Bergschaf (white mountain sheep, sorry I could not find an English breed description) is a very hardy mountain sheep breed that is bred for the Alps. It has warm and water-resistant wool that spins up very strong, quite dense and somewhat toothy. As it's quite dense I have actually knit up 180m/100g yarn with the the same needle as the 300m Merino without much gauge trouble. The wool I knit up is sourced from the Kollektion der Vielfalt (Collection of variety), an association dedicated to the ongoing survival of rare breeds.

  • Coburger Fuchsschaf (Coburg fox sheep) yields a slightly reddish beige wool because this breed has a standard non-white colouration. Actually, the adult animals are alle beige with lightbrown/ginger head and legs, while the lambs can be deep red-brown. They are one of the colours of sheep which I find the most intriguing. The wool of Coburger Fuchsschafs can be spun quite airily, making it even less dense than Merino. The wool used in this comforter also is from Kollektion der Vielfalt (300m/100g).
    Coburger Fuchsschaf, image taken from Wikipedia
    I'll do the formalities on the final post to keep the blather down. So that's the end, I'll keep you posted.

Montag, 12. August 2019

On my miniature mudlarking museum

... I love that alliteration!

London is a very special town for a wide range of reasons, but one of them is it's age and it's location on the river Thames. London first grew massively in Roman times and every civilization then and since has thrown their rubbish into the river. This is not unusual, the unusual part is that the Thames is tidal within the city area (i.e. the water levels rise and fall with the tides) and the bed of the Thames naturally is covered in silt that is likely to bury anything thrown into the river. However the tides keep moving the silt, so now you have oxygen-poor surroundings that softly wrap around anything you throw in and that keep getting re-layered - uncovering other items every time.

This amazing feature means that an item dropped into the Thames may emerge the next day or maybe two millenia later. This includes things like slaugherhouse-bones and broken bottles, but it also includes things like roman coins or medieval belt buckles. In general, if you look a the Thames foreshore at low tide, it seems there are now more human-caused solid items buried in the silt than stones.

It's the promis of treasure or maybe just free coal that started the tradition of mudlarking. Mudlarks used the low tides to walk across the foreshore and pick up anything they could use or sell.
Mudlarks in Victorian England, image taken from Wikipedia
The tradition has lasted on and up until 2016 you could spontaneously go and mudlark as long as you adhered to a set of very reasonable rules (here only very loosely phrased, don't take my word but look them up)
  1. don't go to spots that are of historic relevance (there's a list of banned areas), 
  2. don't take anything of historic or monetary value - if you're not sure go to the Museum of London and let them decide, 
  3. don't dig or use metal detectors, 
  4. don't get yourself drowned
However Mudlarking has become so popular that you now need a permit from the Thames Mudlark Society and the restrictions on areas and showing the Museum of London have become stricter too. As mentioned before: please check up rules on official sites before going out for a lark.

When I lived in the UK (pre 2016) I went mudlarking several times. I never really was interested in finding anything valuable, I was interested in finding things that were interesting. This was made vastly easier by having two befriended archeologists that I would go mudlarking with and regularly hand fists full of shards and fragments and ask what they were and how they knew. I was much more interested in figuring out how an animal had been slaughtered from a tiny bone shard than finding an intact vessel. So the things I brought back usually had value to me, but no historical or financial value at all.

For years these lived in a little box, but I wanted them (and many other things) out and visible, so I have now started working on a little museum.

Using a black box frame similar to this one from Ikea I covered the back in fabric and started sorting my finds. I figured that non-fragile items with stable surfaces like pipe-stems, teeth, bone, glass and ceramics could be hot-glued on, while fragile items like ancient leather, or items with a fragile surface like corroded iron needed to be stitched to the cloth.



With some playing around I reached an arrangement that I was happy with and attached all items. Sadly my bottle neck is a little to deep for the box frame, so it doesn't close entirely, but it closes well enough to hang so that's fine with me.

Now describing the items and their stories can literally fill books (such as London in Fragments, which I highly recommend), so I'll try to be brief in my descriptions - maybe a more detail guided tour at some other point.
  1. Top left: group of four teeth. These teeth are herbivore teeth, the larger two presumably cow, the smaller two sheep or goat. Due to the place I picked these up at, the previous owners of these teeth may well have been slaughtered and sold at the Borough Market, a food market in central London dating back to the twelfth century. Based on that, these teeth may well have been thrown into the river any time between the twelfth and the nineteenth century
  2. Top middle: three ceramic shards. These are quite different, two being handpainted blue and one being terracotta-red with attached slag. I don't know any context to the terracotta-red one at all but was very much intrigued by the slag. Maybe it had been in a building fire. The blue hand-painted ones (especially the dark one) looks like Delftware and would probably be from the 17th to 18th century
  3. Top right: group of pipe stems and fragment of a head. Pipe stems are often one of the first things you develope an eye for when mudlarking. Initially you don't see them at all, but once you've started to see them you see them everywhere. There must be millions of the things in the Thames. I have found intact heads, but I have gifted them to other people... as mentioned before I didn't keep anything remotely valuable. Pipe stems are from the 17th to 19th century and though the stems themselves can be dated, it's easiest to date a pipe from it's bowl.
  4. Bottom left: leather shoe sole: this is the front half of a leather shoe sole that was nailed in rows. It could date from late middle ages to after the first world war, but I like to fancy it was part of the hob-nailed boot of a soldier from the first world war. Hell knows, I didn't really bother to try and date this
  5. Bottom left: red clay handle. Of a pot or something
  6. Bottom left-ish: translucent red glass. 'Gold Ruby' glass was lost to the ages between Roman-times and the 17th century. In the middle ages red glass was common, but always opaque, and even now translucent red is somewhat tricky. It's rediscovery was made in the 17th century near to Potsdam, about 10km from my current home, so that makes it double special. This shard is probably 19th century Victorian, because then 'Gold Ruby' glass was very fashionable in the UK.
  7. Middle: iron fragments. These are very difficult to date, so I focussed on their use. The longest fragment is quite finely made, rectangular in cross section and twisted decoratively. It may habe been used as the handle of a metal cooking pot. There are also two nails with large hand-forged heads. The lower of the two is quite straight with a sharp bend, which makes it probable that it was used to rivet something together, probably the planks of a ship. The upper nail is oddly bent and looks as though it may have been pulled out of it's original position before being dumped (while the riveted one may have been part of a sunk vessel). Finally there is a key which might be quite new but it's fancy nevertheless
  8. Bottom middle: brown ceramic shard. Unremarkable except that it has a wide range of tooling marks from being a hand-turned vessel
  9. Bottom right: green glass bottle neck. Quite uneven, obviously hand-blown. I haven't put much effort into dating it
Phew, enough talking, if I continue then I have written for longer than it has taken me to make this.

This is the beginning of my museum

Formalities
  • Materials: box-frame, Glue, Fabric, items, hot-glue, thread
  • Tools: hot glue gun, needle
  • Time: About 1h (plus another hour writing this)



Sonntag, 11. August 2019

On a spontaneous rope shelf

As mentioned in a previous post, we have just moved. So what does a self-disrespecting crafter do when overwhelmed with the surroundings? Displacement activities in form of making things.

In brief: We needed a shelf. We had a board and some rope.

Rope shelves seem to be an interior design fashion buzzing around for the last three years or more (... available from Etsy to Amazon and tutorials all over the internet), but they are also quite common in Reenactment. I understand why - lightweight, easy in-tent storage - however I do not know of any archeological basis to their use. Yet on the other hand: I'd probably include them in my dream tent too... along with my probably not-quite-correct camp-bed.

Anyhow, the shelf was really easy to make: saw board in half, drill four holes in each (I used 14mm drill bits and placed the hole 3cm from each edge), sand down rough bits, cut rope in half, pull through holes and knot at even lengths. Hang on hook. Balance out a bit. Done.

Formalities
  •  Materials: 120cm x 25cm board, approx 5m hemp rope, string (to tie ends of rope to stop it from fraying)
  • Tools: angle, pencil, hand saw, drill with 14mm drill bit, sand paper
  • Time: approx 1.5h

Donnerstag, 8. August 2019

On knitting a rare-breed tam


A tam is a beret-like hat shape based on the scottish military hat shape called Tam o'shanter. This is not a hat-shape that I necessarily have to wear, but I had scraps of wool and the process of knitting one intrigued me. I guess I've been inspired by knitting blogs and the gorgeous patterns posted on ravelry, a website widely used in the knitting community as a pattern and project and even yarn-management page.

But before talking about the item I actually want to talk about the wool with a small side-story. I spent a good part of my childhood in a quite large village in rural Germany - on the edge of the Swabian Jura. When I moved there, the village still had several active farms that had a wide spread of animals and crops, but by now most of the animals have gone and the crop-bearing land is managed by very few farms. Most of the active farms have shut down. The Swabian Jura is not the best crop-bearing land; this central mountain range consists of lime stone which means that the water drains quickly and fields are always covered in stones. So instead there is a long-standing tradition of forestry and wandering shepherds on the Swabian Jura. When I was a child it was a highlight of the year when the one or two occasions came along when, without any warning, the shepherds would herd their sheep directly past our house - nibbling at the edge of our lawn and pooing everywhere (imagine my childish delight!). Everything was quiet, suddenly there were sheep everywhere and then 20 minutes later just as suddenly as they had appeared they left, leaving just a sprinkling of poo behind to remind us that they had been there.

Since then I've had a soft spot for locally-rooted shepherds and wool. Hence the rare-breeds wool for this tam.

So back to the topic.

I had some scraps of wool off two specific breeds
  • the Jezersko-Solčava, which I know as "Brillenschaf" (translates to spectacles-sheep)
Jezersko-Solčava, image from Wikipedia
  • the "Schwarzes Bergschaf" (sorry, I could only find a German breed-description, there does not yet seem to be a Wikipedia article for this breed). Boring as German names go, this name translates to 'black mountain sheep'. 
Image taken from the breeders association, this is the original source.
Both are rustic, hardy sheep that are native to the high rocky grounds of the Alps. I sourced the wool from a website that is focussed on ensuring the ongoing survival of rare local breeds called Kollektion der Vielfalt and I highly recommend their wool. Though it is sometimes delivered smelling somewhat musty and the breeds they source can have quite hardy wool, I love what they are doing and their wool is amazing for outer garments - no pilling here! Also, it is the only place in the wide internet that I have found "Brillenschaf"-wool anywhere close to affordable. And I really have hunted...

The scraps I used specifically were natural dark-brown Schwarzes Bergschaf (200m/100g) and plant-dyed green Brillenschaf (sadly they don't have the exact colour any more, but it was similar to this - just green; 180m/100g). They were scraps from a jumper-project that I might show off at some point.

Before this blog post gets too much longer, briefly about the pattern and then about the item: Pattern was inspired by the two free patterns Greenvoe fair isle tam and Squirrels in the Forest tam. Though I used 3mm needles, the gauge was much too big and I couldn't get it smaller because the gauge was determined by the maximal curvature of the wool, so I did 7 repeats instead of 8. Also, I ran out of dark brown close to the middle, so the middle is all green. Also, once I finished it was still much too big, so I felted it quite strongly in the washing machine. Then I didn't like the cuff, so I folded it in and sewed it down like a beret. Finally, this is what I ended up with


 



That's ok. I'm happy enough with that. Once the weather cools down I might even wear it!

Formalities:
  • Materials: approx. 100g of wool in total, types listed above
  • Tools: 3mm round needle, washing machine and felt balls to felt it
  • Time: I have no foggiest clue, I mainly knitted this while commuting on the underground