Cloth and Piracy

What? How could these two disparate topics be connected? Well, in the early 1700s, there was a pirate called ‘Calico Jack” Rackam. A lesser known and not very successful pirate, Calico Jack and his crew plied their trade in the Caribbean. In 1719, during one of the many wars between France and England, they accepted a pardon from Britain. Privateering was really piracy under another name, but on the right side of the law. However, this war ended in February of 1720. Rackam and his crew, which now numbered two women among them, went back to their old ways. With the ship ‘William’, they started capturing ships again and were soon declared ‘Pirates”.

The two women, by the way, were Anne Bonney and Mary Read. Anne Bonney left her husband to sail with Calico Jack. Mary Read, also on board, had disguised herself as a man to join the crew.

They were captured and in November tried and convicted. Anne Bonney and Mary Read were spared from hanging due to pregnancy. Mary Read and her unborn child died in prison but Anne Bonney and her child (probably fathered by Calico Jack) were released and disappeared.

Now, where did Jack get his unusual nickname? Well, in 1700 the import of calico into England and the Colonies was forbidden. (See previous post). One of the theories is that Jack got his name from smuggling the popular cloth.

Who would have guessed that cloth could be so interesting and have such a checkered (ha, ha) history.

Imported India Fabrics – circa 1796

We forget I think, in these days of synthetics, that to the affluent in the US coastal cities, there were many fabric choices. Of course all were natural fabrics. And I say coastal cities since in the farming communities and certainly on the frontier families were dependent upon homespun for their clothing. Homespun that was usually home dyed as well. In Williamsburg these dyes would have been imported: the fustics, indigo (homegrown as well as imported from the Phillippines), and cochineal. But further from the coast, the thrifty housewife would have used many dyes collected from the garden and forest around her, as per previous posts.

Many of the imported fabrics are unfamiliar to us now. A search for definitions does not always turn up anything. Here are some of the fabrics imported into the new USA in the 1790s.

Nankeen – A yellow fabric made from a yellowish cotton. Later on, the cotton was the ordinary white and the fabric was dyed to achieve the yellow color.

Shalloon – A lightweight twill of wool or worsted usually used for the lining of coats e.g. The coats of the British Army.

Ticklenburg – a coarse mixed linen fabric (mixed with tow once assumes), to be sold in the West Indies. I suspect this cloth was destined for slave clothing.

Calimancoes – A variety of worsted.

Sprigged Mecklenburgs – a variety of cotton that looks like dotted swiss.

Calico, of course. Even the name is a corruption of Calicut, the town where this particular type of fabric was purchased. In India, the process for making printed cloth with wooden blocks and dye was developed in the 11th century. By changing the mordants, one dye would produce two colors0, usually red and black. By the 12th century, these printed fabrics were already exports to the Middle East.

In 1783, a process was developed in England for using copper printing. More on that in the next post.

The Question of Black Dye

I don’t care for black and never use it when I am dyeing. It is a color that requires care in use. It simply takes over. Overdyeing usually results in a mottled black so using black dye means strictly controlling it.

But of course black was used, in fact it was required. Black was already the color of mourning by Colonial times, even if the rules decreeing social behavior weren’t as strict as they became later on in the Victorian era.

Depending upon the mordants, some of the natural dyes produce charcoal. Staghorn Sumac, for example, which dyes fiber a soft brown, (and does not need to be mordanted since it is full of tannin) will dye charcoal if the fiber is mordanted with iron water.

Black walnut and black walnut do not dye black either, despite the names. Black willow bark (which will not dye cotton – in fact, many natural dyes do not do well on cotton) produces a light brown to a rose tan upon wool when mordanted with alum. Black walnut, which is full of tannin and does not require additional mordanting, produces a rich brown.

So where does one find black? The dye of choice came from logwood, a tree that is native to Mexico and Central America. The British successfully propagated the species to Jamaica and the West Indies as well. Logwood was sold by apothacaries and in general stores, usually as logs since customers feared adulteration. However, a Pennsylvania newspaper advertised in 1798 that chipped logwood ( produced by Philadelphia prison inmantes ) could be had at reasonable rates.

Only the reddish heartwood was used. The chipped wood was dampened and then gathered in a sack and immersed in the dye kettle. After boiling for twenty minutes, the sack was removed and the fabric was submerged into the dyebath. Logwood could be used on silk, wool and yes, cotton, with the hues varying ( as usual) depending upon the mordant. Logwood could be used to dye textiles navy blue and was a much cheaper alternative to indigo, although not as colorfast.

Black was a compund color and other dyes such as fustic were used to produce black. It too was not wonderfully colorfast. However, anyone who has ever worn black jeans and watched them fade can attest to the poor colorfastness of current black synthetic dyes as well.

Logwood was important for dyeing right up to the beginning of World War II.

Red Cabbage and Pokeberries

Both red cabbage and pokeberries produce beautiful red shades. The problem is, as it is so often, colorfastness. Items dyed with pokeberries quickly fade in light. I read in a contemporary book, Harvesting Color, however, that mordanting pokeberries with vinegar makes the dye colorfast. A modern dyer experimented with pokeberries until she found a method that works. I have yet to try this but plan to this fall.

The recipe included in this book is:

Ratio of 25:1 for pokeberries to fabric. Presoak fabric in vinegar. Mash berries until they have all been crushed. Fill pot with enough water to cover the berries and still alow yarn to move freely. Add 1/2 C vinegar for every 1 gal water. The PH has to be 3.5; pretty acid. Heat the dye pot on medium but do not boil, and let steep for about an hour. Strain. Prewet yarn, preferably in an acid bath (1/4 C vinegar in the water bath). Add the prewetted yarns to te dye pot and let them soak about 2 hours or overnight. Hang the yarn without rinsing for at least 20 minutes and up to half a day and then rinse excess color.

Red cabbage is cut up.  If you prefer a more blue color, add salt. Otherwise the color will be pink. Fibers must first be soaked in a tannin bath (acorns!) and then mordanted with alum.

Soak the fiber you will be dyeing in water for an hour or overnight. Fill the dye pot with enough water to cover the fabric and brint the water to a simmer. Put the cut up cabbage into the pot, bring the heat up to a simmer, and simmer for at least 20 minutes or until the cabbage leaves lose their color and become a light pale pink. Strain out the cabbage. Bring the dye back to a simmer and add the presoaked fiber. Simmer for about 1/2 an hour.

The dye is now a purple lavender. If you prefer pink, stir in the vinegar or lemon juice now. Salt will change the dye to dark blue. Soak the fiber until it reaches the desired shade.Rinse and hang to dry.

Natural dye colors tend to be more muted than the synthetics but many are also much less toxic and make use of easily obtainable materials.

Natural Dyes – onionskins

Before the invention of the synthetic dyes, people had to use natural dyes. As I’ve indicated in previous posts, that was not always positive. A poor growing season could mean a weak dye (besides the loss of the crop which was always an issue). There was no way to control the dye and achieve the exact same result every time.

Dyes like cochineal were expensive. And Madder, a dye plant a dyer could grow in the garden, can take 4 – 5 years to reach useability.

Another problem was colorfastness. Turmeric, for example, is a wonderful yellow dye. But, without mordanting, it fades to a muted yellow. In the post colonial period, when iron and copper pots were in use, the dyes were mordanted almost without consciousness. (Of course, food was cooked in copper and iron pots too. Yummy!)

Here is a way to use onionskins.

First, make an iron mordant by soaking rusty iron nails (stainless steel won’t work) in white vinegar. In 1 to 2 weeks, the vinegar will turn a rusty orange. Put in a stainless steel pot with enough water to cover and add fiber or fabric (cotton). Simmer gently for ten minutes and wash thoroughly to remove iron particles. Now you are ready to dye.

Wet the fiber and soak for at least an hour. Place onionskins (4 oz) either brown or red, in a pot and bring to a boil. Simmer for about 15 minutes until the skins are clear. Scoop out the onionskins and add fiber. Soak until desired color is reached. Red skins will give a bright yellow or yellowish green, and brown will give a rusty orange/gold.

Rinse thoroughly and hang to dry. Although mostly colorfast, you will notice it fades more rapidly than the synthetic dyes. However, it is not toxic at all.

More natural mordants and dyes to come.

 

Hancock Shaker Village

Because the first Shaker community was established in New York (they called it Niskayuna – a piece of it now lies under Albany Airport), there are several museum villages within easy driving distance of New York.  The only village still active is Sabbathday Lake near New Gloucester, Maine which still has four living members. Hancock Village is in Pittsfield, MA, a few miles over the New York State Border and is set up as a museum. Although I found it a little difficult to get too, mainly because the GPS had problems with the address, it is well worth a day trip.

This village was clearly wealthier than Sabbathday Lake. (Maine).  If one researches the Shakers and a picture of a round barn comes up, that is Hancock Village. The round barn is unique.

round barn

 

The large structure, painted dark red as all the work buildings were, is especially interesting. The Shakers harnessed a stream to provide water power for a machine shop on one side and laundry on the other.

Machine Shop and laundry

Water power mechanized a variety of machines and helped wash clothing in the 18th century. They also invented a process to create wrinkle free clothing; zinc chloride was steamed into the fabric. Another early invention by the Shakers.

The Museum is laregely solar powered and the Shakers were ahead of the rest of the world in that too, although instead of panels they relied on passive solar.

The Museum Village also has a nice cafe – we had a great lunch there – and a good shop.

 

Dyeing, Batik and Otherwise

The two books I use most to achieve dyed effects or to dye several shades of the same color are Dyeing to Quilt by Joyce Mori and Cynthia Myerberg and Hand-Dyed Fabric Made Easy by Adrienne Buffington. Both of these teach you how to begin the dyeing process with the procion dyes. I especially enjoy dyeing six or eight tints of the same color for a quilt or dyeing white on white fabric. The white pattern doesn’t pick up the dye so you might have a deep orange piece with a white tracery shot through it.

Of course I had to keep moving on. I went into Batik, which is very fun. I use soy wax to make the designs. Traditionally paraffin and/or beeswax are used but I find soy, although it doesn’t easily give that wonderful crackle, is just so much easier to wash out of the fabric. Soy melts easily too. I have had good success painting on designs and using cookie cutters.

Silk scarf, overdyed in blue, pink and green

Cookie cutters are not the traditional tools, however. Tjants (pronounced chants) are long stylus pens with an opening that allow the hot wax to flow onto the fabric in a straight line. I admit I am not very good with these. Some of the people I’ve taught are much better. The traditional tool I love, though,  is the tjaps (pronounced chops). These are copper designs used for stamping the hot wax onto the fabric. Here is my favorite, dragonflies.

 

 

 

 

 

Copper dragonfly tjap.

I obtain all my supplies from Dharma Trading in California. Just a heads up – the tjaps are hard to come by. They do have shipments from time to time but you must order immediately.

Traveling to earn a living

Will Rees, the main character in my mystery “A Simple Murder”, is a traveling weaver, called factors. Like many professions then, weaving required an apprenticeship of about seven years. About nine spinners were required to keep a weaver in business. And looms were big, heavy and expensive.

Larger towns, like Williamsburg, had a resident professional weaver and cloth from overseas did come into the ports. Smaller towns might have a weaver who also farmed. The further away these towns were located, the less imported cloth the women had access to. This imported fabric was expensive too.

On the frontier, in the 1790’s this was on the western side of the Alleghenies, local weavers were necessary. One of the leading lights in the Whiskey Rebellion was William Findlay, a weaver. He became a legislator from the Pittsburgh area.

Besides the traveling weavers, other professions took to the roads. Some men made brooms. This was a craft the Shakers took on as well; they sold their wares which included brooms, whips, boxes and other items, from wagons. Tinkers, who not only sold pots and pans but mended them as well, were also a familiar sight.

In these agrarian times, the goal was to make enough money to buy a farm. Usually, once a man had a good farm, he settled, at least for most of the year.

Some of the accounts from the women married to such men speak poignantly of the loneliness and isolation.

More about dyes in Peru

I got to dyeing in a roundabout way. I am a lifelong quilter and I began dyeing my own fabrics to use in my quilts. From there, I expanded into dyeing: dyeing yards to use in weaving, batik dyeing and finally a curiosity about dyes themselves.

Except for Lima, which sits at sea level, Peru is a high country, sprawling across the Andes. Macchu Picchu, which is probably the most famous place in Peru, is above 8000 feet. But it is nothing compared to Cusco, which is about 11,000 feet. The land is arid and the ancient peoples including the Incans were brilliant at utilizing the scant water to irrigate their crops. Potatoes come from Peru and this country has several thousand varieties, although not all are edible.

Peru is a goldmine for anyone interested in dyeing. In previous blogs, I’ve talked about the cochineal beetle, which is native to Peru. Properly mordanted, the blood of these beetles creates a vivid red.Prickly Pear

 

Darker burgundy comes from another berry, green from the chilka leaf and shades of brown, black and white from the hair of the alpaca and the llama. ( The vicuna also provides wool of an extremely fine quality but this animal has never been domesticated. The Incans spent much time selectively breeding alpacas to obtain an extremely fine fleece but once their Empire ended that breeding program ended. In some of the museums in Peru examples of these old textiles can be viewed. )

Llama wool dyed with natural dyes

The weavers also use indigo for blue. Indigo is not native so it is more expensive.

 

 

 

 

 

Weaving on a backstrap loomIt is truly amazing to watch the weavers using the backstrap loom.

Looms, backstrap and otherwise

The European loom is a complicated and elegant piece of equipment, so perfectly designed that few modifications have been made to the essential design. The job of a loom is to keep the warp threads taut. And the threads must always have a cross.

With that said, there are a few different kinds of looms. A Jack loom has a rising shed, that is, sets of threads are lifted so the shuttle can pass underneath them. The ‘jack’ mechanism lifts the shed. The treadles, or what my husband calls the gas pedals, lift the sheds. Connecting different sheds to different treadles is one piece of making a pattern.

A counterbalance loom is usually limited to four shafts ( a jack loom can have more and of course the more sheds the more complicated a pattern). The sheds are raised and lowered equally to allow the shuttle to pass between them.

The countermarche loom includes features of both a jack and a counterbalance loom. This type of loom allows the shafts to operate independently, as on a jack, and the shed to open easily and symetrically as on a counterbalance. But the countermarche requires more time to tie up.

Other variations include rigid heddle, treadles operated by hand instead of foot, but they all utilize a mechanism for separating the threads for the shuttle.

The backstrap loom, hoever, uses the weaver herself to hold the warp taut. A strap goes around her back and a stick is used to separate the sheds or the threads which are separated into two bundles by the cross. A backstrap weaver memorizes her patterns and uses her hands to lift the individual threads for the bobbin. (The shuttle mentioned above contains the bobbin.) The heddles are not metal but string. Although this is considered a primitive form of loom, it still contains most of the pieces of the floor looms (heddles, bobbin, warp and weft, and of course the all important cross) it is still complicated. Since the patterns are memorized, weaving on one of these looms demands a great deal from the weaver.

Am I the only one who wonders how something like this was invented?