The Independent Stitch

Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival 2013, a random report

I love the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. I love other festivals, too, but Maryland was my first wool festival (many years ago, when it was substantial but significantly smaller than it is now), and always gives me a feeling that I'm going home to a place and a community (of humans and animals) that exists fleetingly but regularly. I've almost always worked when I was at the festival, either in the Interweave Press booth, or researching and gathering materials for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, or, last year and this year, teaching.

For two reasons, this will be a brief and random report on Maryland 2013. First, I'm home just long enough to prepare to teach at a new-to-me festival, the Kentucky Sheep and Fiber Festival. (There are still a few spaces left in the two-day workshop, 3Ls and 3Cs—it's about a variety of related sheep with diverse wools both from the UK (Leicester Longwool, Border Leicester, and Bluefaced Leicester) and from New Zealand and Australia (Coopworth, Corriedale, and Cormo), and about how breeds are developed and determined, all with fiber in hand.) Second, I have very few photos from the five days because I was teaching. (I do have a few, thanks to some participants in the groups. But when I teach, I teach.) I had Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon "off," so that's pretty much when I was able to take pictures. And meet up with people I had appointments with. And buy fleeces for future workshops.

One thing I always like to do at festivals is visit the animals and see what kinds of photos I can capture. This Corriedale and an Oxford were amazingly friendly every time I stopped by (which was as often as I could).

While zooming through the Main Building (which I still think of as Building V), I spotted these Hog Island sheep (a rare breed), available in knitting-kit form:

I was especially taken with the variegated yarn for the horns. The kits are produced by Yarn by Mills. They aren't on the website yet, so if you're intrigued  you'll need to e-mail Margy Mills at yarnbymills AT yahoo.com to ask about them.

Then, of course, I had to visit George Washington's Mount Vernon Estate's Hog Island sheep, located as usual in the breed display section of the barns.

Here's another photo:

One of the ewes was being placed with a new young owner through a program that puts rare-breed sheep in the care of young shepherds, and the young woman who would be taking the ewe home showed her (with help from Lisa from Mount Vernon) in the Parade of Breeds on Sunday afternoon:

Hog Island sheep have quite the story to tell. I'll be including the breed as one of four locally sourced wools in a four-day retreat on Maryland's Eastern Shore in late October of this year.

I also bought two Jacob fleeces with different characteristics for the same retreat.

And got some photos of Jacobs. They tend to be very photogenic, as well as nice sheep!

This wee one seemed to have been hand-carried throughout the festival, as far as I could tell. I kept seeing it, always with an accompanying human.

I got in a quick visit to Clara Parkes' gathering for people involved with the Great White Bale project (I'm an armchair traveler):

It's all about the fiber.

That's the first yarn spun from the Great White Bale.

It's Merino.

I also got to see my friend Moe, who's a Shetland ram. He dressed up for the Parade of Breeds on Sunday.

I also got to sneak away for part of the shearing demo. Kevin Ford blade-sheared. . . .

And then Kristen Rosser, who is working with Emily Chamelin, showed how the job gets done with electric shears (she commented while Kevin sheared, and he commented while she did).

Emily and I managed to meet up on the fly and talk sheep, which was one of the highlights of the festival for me although I don't have photos—just a great link.

On Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, I led barn walkabouts, which are a whole lot of fun even though they involve a bunch of on-the-fly changes of approach and plans (depending on what's happening in the barns). We alternate walking through the barns and looking at specific breeds of sheep, while either I or the shepherds talk about them. . . . (Thanks to Joanne Jaeger for the next photo.)

(That's Melissa Weaver Dunning, with whom I had the great good fortune of spending a fair amount of time during this festival. She teaches at John C. Campbell Folk School, among other places.)

. . . and finding a quiet place to discuss questions that have come up or give an overview of what we'll be seeing next. (Thanks to Melissa Weaver Dunning for this next photo.)

We did the walkabouts for the first time last year, and there were a few scheduling tweaks that made them work better this year (like: not trying to do one during the Suffolk lamb auction in the same building!) and a few logistical shifts that made them a little more challenging (lots more breeds on display—like more than 40!—which meant one of the aisles was very narrow, but we managed).

When I worked the festival at the Interweave Press booth in years past, representing Spin-Off magazine, I used to go to the breed barns to take a break—there and to the sheepdog demos. I didn't have a free moment this year during any of the dog events, alas, so I missed them entirely. 

But I did find a few fleeces to bring home for teaching workshops this year.

And more.

ALL of this wool will be distributed to other people, mostly in workshops. Well, I'll get to make some swatches as part of the ongoing research. Yesterday I washed up the first two bathtubs-full.

Wow, do I love the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival!

And next week I'll be at the Kentucky Sheep and Fiber Festival, which I'm looking forward to experiencing for the first time. I hear there are still a few workshop spaces available. All of my workshops sold out at Maryland, and it would be fun if the one in Kentucky did, too! I'm bringing plenty of wool (including some of what's drying downstairs right now), so as long as there's an opening even walk-ins will work.

My, this is lovely wool. I can't wait to share it.

Okay. I need to go wash more of it.

Types (and groupings) of wools

On Apr 9, 2013, at 12:48 AM, A. N. Mouse wrote:

Subject: Types of wools from Craftsy, and Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook

Hi Deb,

I just watched your Craftsy class last night, thanks so much for doing that, it was excellent for a new spinner! I just have a question regarding a comparison between that and your Sourcebook.

In the Craftsy class, you talked about four general classes of wool and some of the major representative breeds in each class. Do you use the same general division in the Sourcebook, so that I would be able to tell which class various breeds fell into? Or, alternatively, I assume there's enough parallel information that I can bridge from the type description at Craftsy, to any classification you might use in the Sourcebook?

I find I want to spin All The Things, but at the same time I want to have some rationality about what I'm doing while I'm doing it!

Many thanks and best regards
A. N.

__

Dear A. N.:*

Thanks so much for your note, and I'm delighted that you enjoyed the Craftsy class!

You ask a very interesting question, and it doesn't have a simple answer. However, it does have a workable one.

The Craftsy class was very simplified, and its primary audience is both knitters and spinners, with a slight bias toward knitters (also crocheters, weavers, and so on). The wool-type groupings I used in the Craftsy presentation are aimed at people whose primary contact with the fiber is in touching the yarn (usually by squishing the skein!) and who want to then knit, crochet, or weave something that doesn't disappoint them (too soft or too harsh to function well in what they decide to make).

The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook has not been "distilled" to the same extent, and its groupings are different—they reflect a more comprehensive view of the sheep and their wools, and were developed in large part because I wanted to be able to consider related groups of wools together—and, most importantly, to help myself (and other people) more readily differentiate between sets of breed names and types that get confused. Fleece & Fiber covers a lot more territory, in a lot more depth, and its information is more nuanced.

The key to connecting the types of concepts in the Craftsy class and the information in Fleece & Fiber is on pages 34 and 35 of the book, where you will find "A Starter Guide to Breed-Specific Wools" (it was co-author Carol Ekarius' brilliant idea to include this in the book, and I made up the categories and put the breeds in them).

The categories there are a bit different than the ones from the online class, because when I was developing the Craftsy course I came up with the (more memorable?) catchwords to be used in a video format to describe a smaller number of types of wools, and those groupings don't relate directly to the four lists of breeds in the book. Yet the Fleece & Fiber lists on those pages should give you the rationality in approaching the wools that you're looking for.

The study of wool, like wool itself, is not static. One of the things I like so well about learning more all the time about wool is that there are so many ways to organize and understand it. I hope the systems and terms I'm coming up with continue to help others. They're rough maps, based on my travels, to help guide others' explorations.

I'll have more ideas about how to think of wool groupings to throw into consideration in the future, as my understanding evolves. Don't take any of them as the last word: they're all sketches from a particular perspective, and they can all exist simultaneously. Use what is helpful. Skip over what is not, and instead find a different angle from which to examine what you want to get a grasp on. That's what I do. It's endlessly amusing.

With all best wishes, and happy spinning!
Deb

Deborah Robson
http://independentstitch.typepad.com

* A slightly revised and expanded response. With pictures. I like pictures. And links. Links can be useful.

_____

Congratulations to Joanne Seiff on winning the copy of Ann Kingstone's Born and Bred! I made up slips of paper and folded them and put them on the living room table and my daughter walked by randomly and snatched one out. It had Joanne's message on it. Both my daughter and I said later that we really wanted to pick EVERYBODY. But we couldn't, so thanks to everyone for throwing your names into the circle of chance. It's a wonderful book.

Ann Kingstone's "Born and Bred" Yorkshire-based designs

Those of you who, like me, enjoy books on the order of Clara Parkes' The Knitter's Book of Wool and Sue Blacker's Pure Wool: A Guide to Using Single-Breed Yarns have a new collection to check out: Ann Kingstone's Born & Bred: Yorkshire Sheep, Yorkshire Style (the extra links go to Ann's other collections, also good to peruse).

I'd describe Ann's accomplishment here as succinct, sweet, and a little bit sassy—while well seasoned with elegance. She published this collection in conjunction with yarn shop baa ram ewe, from which all the yarns are said to be available. (I also found some kits. Nose around the site and see what you discover, too.)

I love the way Ann has designed for a variety of styles and situations and yarn weights, producing nine projects, all of which I find appealing enough to cast on for. I found myself wishing that I'd had the hooded jacket pattern to knit for my daughter when she was small. I knitted her a hooded jacket that she wore for several years (handknits seemed to fit for longer than commercial knits did), so we didn't miss out, but what a sweet garment that is (lower right on the cover, above).

Among other things, I greatly enjoyed the connection Ann made between a number of sheep of the area (of course!) and the designs. The sheep she talks about, and some of whose wool she uses in her patterns, include Wensleydales (both white and colored), Swaledales (those are the sheep at the top of the contents page, just below), Whitefaced Woodlands (a really old breed), and Mashams, which are a traditional crossbred (composed often of Wensleydale × Swaledale, or very similar breeds). Yorkshire is where the annual and famous Masham Sheep Fair is held (it will be September 28 and 29 this year). Both Wensleydales and Whitefaced Woodlands are rare breeds.

Because this is how I think about collections of knitting patterns, here's a summary of the patterns, with quick notes about the designs, the yarn weights, and the specific yarns Ann used:

• Wetwang, a pullover sweater (jumper) with graceful black swans around the yoke and lovely, subtle detailing - DK weight, Wensleydale Longwool yarn from the Wensleydale Longwool Sheepshop
• Roseberry, the wee one's coat - bulky weight, Rowan Purelife British Sheep Breeds Chunky Undyed in the shade "Light Masham"
• Betty, a tea cosy named after some tea shops I've been told are wonderful - bulky weight, baa ram ewe's "Rare," which is Whitefaced Woodland (yay!) combined with Hebridean (lovely stuff, too)
• Ilkley Moor, a tam - fingering weight, from baa ram ewe "Titus" (Yorkshire fibers: 50% gray Wensleydale, 20% Bluefaced Leicester, and 30% alpaca—yes, the alpaca connection is explained)
• Baht 'At, fingerless mitts - fingering weight, from baa ram ewe "Titus" (same as Ilkley Moor, above; the two designs are related in concept as well as yarn and patterning)
• Hild, a pullover hoodie - aran weight, "Jarol Pure British Wool Aran" from Masham sheep
• Wharfe, boot toppers (not just pretty but practical: keep the wellie tops from chafing legs!) - bulky weight, from baa ram ewe's "Rare" again (Whitefaced Woodland and Hebridean blend)
• Little Tyke, a color-patterned vest for small people - DK weight, Wensleydale Longwool Sheepshop yarn
• Swaledale clogs - aran weight, felted, from British Breeds "Swaledale Aran" (which may later be in stock at baa ram ewe, but I can't find it right now although I did find this)

The names of the designs come from places, a saint, a song (okay, DON'T miss that link! it's just over a minute, and goes really well after the longer clip at Baht 'At above), and more, all with Yorkshire ties. Even though the accompanying text is short, it strikes me as perfectly suited and it's personably informative.

Born & Bred is available in print and digital editions (Ravelry link for the digital version, with more photos of the designs). I am utterly charmed by it.

I haven't done giveaways much before, but Ann tells me we can do one and I opted for the digital edition. If you'd like your name thrown in the hat (probably a hand-knitted cap, actually), let me know in the comments. I'll figure out how to do a giveaway. I'll probably make my daughter do the drawing, so: (1) all names in by April 2, (2) drawing the weekend of April 6 and 7. Please remind me if I forget (see note about the days getting away from me in the post from two releases ago).

Oh, and I almost forgot. Yes, I did already cast on for one of the patterns and it's a fun knit. This one still needs finishing of the ribbing around the hand (in process) and on the thumb opening. I'd hoped to have it done in time for this post (well, I'd hoped to have a pair, but I always want to do more than is quite possible), however . . . I got most of the first one completed!

Baht 'At (check out the song, or Ann's book, for the meaning of the name):

Not entirely off-topic:

While I was finding links for this post, I discovered Moorland Pottery, which has a number of items I enjoyed looking at, some of them relating to sheepdogs, Herdwicks, other Lake District sheep (which look a whole lot like the Scots sheep, but then we're not talking representational art here), and what caught my eye first, the chickens in the wooly jumpers. . . . And yes, Yorkshire-themed items, including some that are "born and bred," which was how I ended up on the site.

Why Shetland sheep as a research focus?

This follows the previous post and pertains to the reason for my next research area, Shetland sheep and wool, and to the impetus behind the Dreaming of Shetland project (website to come at dreamingofshetland.com).

Donna Druchunas sent a link to some fantastic photographs of Shetland and of sheep on Shetland.

Deb:

GORGEOUS pictures, and interestingly they point out some of the challenge in this whole project—or at least the sheep photos do!

The only sheep shown that I'd bet is a full Shetland is that ram with the curling horns (this is not a reason not to use the photos: all of the sheep shown grow Shetland wool because they grow wool on Shetland).

But the others don't have characteristics of the Shetland breed, most obviously the fluke-shaped tail (a short tail, narrower at its tip than at its base). That black-faced one is at least part, and possibly full, Suffolk. Some of the sheep that do have tails like Northern European short-tails don't have the Shetland body type.

COOL.

Not a reason not to use images. But I'd go with lambs or pictures of sheep in the distance or that ram.

Donna:

I guess we should include a short article about this topic because people will be wondering and interested. Would you want to do that or would it be too much? I would just want it to be "a letter from Deb" off the top of your head. Don't do any research FOR this, just outline the questions that come to your mind quickly and show why the research and further work is needed? Is that something you could do in 15 minutes or so?

[Insert a short interval here.]

Deb:

Well, more like 60 minutes, and it's definitely a "letter," not a "draft," much less finished piece. And now I need to quit, because the temptation is to revise and refine. . . .

______

Why Shetlands?

As I've recovered from the intense work involved in The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, the opportunities for future inquiry arise on all sides, and there are more fascinating possibilities than can be even listed, much less adequately considered, in a lifetime. Sheep and their wools continue to capture my interest and attention—even more than before, because of what I learned in writing the "big book." So the question over the past couple of years has been where next to invest my curiosity, since it won't be put to rest!

With about 1400 sheep breeds identified globally, I won't be able to cover them all in the years available to me, however many those are. The Sourcebook included fibers that English-speaking fiber folk might reasonably get their hands on. Natural next steps would include covering more sheep breeds from continental Europe, and that's a series of topics for which I'm collecting both fiber samples and reference books. It's a big enough area, and sufficiently complicated, that it will take years to manage. I'll be working on it.

At the same time, I've been ambushed by the Shetlands. This is a good thing. Shetlands were the most difficult breed to write up for the Sourcebook. They took the most time and raised serious questions that apply to all sheep, through all time, although not in as concentrated a form as for the Shetlands.

For publication in 2011 and 2012, Spin-Off magazine had me write up pieces on Soay sheep, Lincoln sheep, and a few puzzling aspects of wool quality. Also for 2012, The Journal for Weavers, Spinners and Dyers asked if I would write an article on the history and development of British sheep breeds. Next, for 2013, PLY magazine tantalized me with the idea of researching the origins of sheep: how they became domesticated, how they traveled around the world, how people have shaped sheep to fit particular environments and how sheep have been willing partners, able to adapt and thrive on every continent except Antarctica. I knew when I said yes that none of these would be an easy assignment. I couldn't resist the questions behind them.

As I've followed these intriguing trails, the Shetlands kept cropping up on the edges, emblematic of ideas relating to thousands of years of history, and of human/animal interdependence, and of breed definition, and of unique (and diverse) textile traditions, and of local and global economics, and of what we fiber artists pick up to spin, or knit, or crochet, or weave—and whether we will have these materials to work with in the future, or not.

Shetlands are (American Livestock Breeds Conservancy) and are not (Rare Breeds Survival Trust) a rare breed. Looking closely, it becomes apparent that whether or not the breed as a whole (whatever that is defined as) is rare, some strains of it, including some of the fleece colors, are quite endangered. Shetlands cannot be easily categorized or described.

Sheep known by one or another group as Shetland sheep grow single-coated fleeces that are very fine or medium in quality; double-coated fleeces that contain several fiber types; crimpy fleeces; wavy fleeces; and everything in between. They grow this wool in multiple countries and landscapes, in flocks shaped by differing human intentions and pressures.

Shetlands connect to the earliest sheep, and they demonstrate what happens when humans influence a breed to fit alternate environments and to respond to economic pressures—in fact, they demonstrate this multiple times, in many ways.

When I was researching the Sourcebook, it was at the point that I read a well-informed account of wools describing Shetland as a "Down" wool that I determined that I needed to spend as much time as necessary coming up with a supportable definition of "Down" wools. [Added note: In the end, I don't include Shetlands within my definition of "Down" wools.]

Shetlands open many questions, for which there are almost certainly no right or definitive answers.

But I think that spending the next year (or more) of my life exploring Shetland sheep and Shetland wool in greater detail will illuminate many aspects of how rich and interesting our fiber world is—in ways that will apply to topics as small as the hats we put on our heads and as large as the global wool marketplace.

I can't wait. In fact, I haven't. I'm already deep into this project. The front page of my first notebook on the topic reads: "All wool, all good," and "What is Shetland wool about?" The study of Shetland sheep and their wool has already begun to reveal to me, and has the potential to show other people who care about these things, a lot about why it's true that "all wool" is "all good," and why we need to pay attention to both history and the future in order to maintain essential values related to being human and being responsible residents of the planet.

One bit of fleece at a time.

Dreaming of Shetland

Ah, time. There just isn't enough of it. If there were, I'd complete a lot more blog posts. I have ten started in MarsEdit, the program I use for composing, and another few dozen that I've meant to start writing but haven't even gotten as far as jotting down titles and concepts for. Often those ideas sit uncompleted because I have other work that needs to be done instead. The quiet here on the blog never results from lack of enthusiasm or a scarcity of things to share: it's an indication that the days end too quickly.

Thus the conundrum that I presented to a group of fellow fiber artists and writers when we got together in February: How to do more of the sheep and wool research that I feel called to undertake, while also earning a living? Most of the work on sheep and wool involves a lot of time for what amounts to honoraria: payments that recognize the value of what has been produced without actually providing enough to buy groceries or pay the mortgage.

The ideas these creative folk came up with surprised and floored me. I'm still recovering, and while I don't know what the efforts that were launched that evening mean yet in practical terms, the support all on its own has been so affirming that I'm challenged to just take it in. One of the ideas was presented to me with the following introduction: "We have an idea. All you need to do is say 'yes' and have a PayPal account." I had to absorb the proposal that they presented to me for a few minutes, then said, "yes," along with "thank you," and "I do have a PayPal account. It's already part of my freelance business."

Shetland

So there are two primary ideas afoot as a result of that gathering's attention to my sheepy obsessions. They both relate to an upcoming trip to the UK, which in turn has been instigated and is being facilitated by a small group of friends. The entire extended group of interested parties still hasn't resolved the visa issues involved in teaching, so this trip will be focused on research, although as the conversations have evolved other folks are stepping up and working on the paperwork part, and I may be able to teach on a future trip.

When the idea of a trip to the UK first began to be bandied about, the initial questions concerned when, and with what emphasis—which narrows down where. There are many ways to continue the research I did for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, and it would be easy to run off in all directions and end up with scattered bits that don't pull together into substantial insights. There are about 1400 breeds of sheep throughout the world and there is no way I can cover them all. I'm working, slowly, on more of the breeds from continental Europe, mostly with the help and support of people on Ravelry. That's a long-term project and one that so far has no clear boundaries. It will need to perk along in the background until its shape becomes apparent. We all knew a trip to the UK would need to be very focused in order to produce useful results. There are just too many options.

Shetland Wool Week arose as the optimal event around which to plan the trip. Over the past six months or so, I've been pushed toward intensive research on Shetlands, for a lot of reasons. Resources for deepening this research have been dropping onto the path in front of me, one after another, confirming this as a good next organizing principle. I'll have more to say about that as time goes on.

But first here are the two projects that this group of folks came up with barely more than a month ago: the ones that have left me nearly speechless since.

The e-book project: Dreaming of Shetland

A small crew of volunteers is organizing an e-book of patterns, essays, and photographs to be called Dreaming of Shetland to be sold through Ravelry to support my research. While a small crew is putting this together, a large number of people are contributing to the project. It's quite astonishing.

Yes, it will support me, but it will also support the sheep (all sheep, not just Shetlands), and I've been convinced it will also generate a lot of good energy for the people who are helping out, in ways large and small. So I have, indeed, said "yes" and "thank you." (I had a little practice with this earlier, in relation to a different offer. That helped facilitate this opportunity.)

The plan is that the e-book will be available some time in the early summer. Here are some of the materials that the group has generated so far. I really don't have much to do with this. My job is to keep chipping away at the research and writing that I have been set on doing anyway. Knowing that other people are actually interested in this research is a huge plus for me all by itself.

Here's a flyer that they made up to be distributed at festivals and workshops:

 

 

The drawing is mine; I've slowly been doing images of sheep, and had not done a Shetland. I didn't have time to do one recently, either, because of an onslaught of deadlines, but it seemed like an essential element of what was happening (plus I really enjoy doing the sketches), so I ended up "stealing" about 20 minutes a day over a couple of weeks to put this ram together. Drawing a Shetland is as complex a task as researching the breed!

I've written a "Why Shetlands?" letter that will be included in the book, and if I can grab the time I will also put it up in the form of a blog post. Because it's actually written, that should be possible.

Donna Druchunas and Anne Berk are coordinating the e-book project, with the able help of Susan Santos, Sarah Jaworowicz, and others: as I said, I'm doing my best to focus on the research itself and not get distracted by the fact that I can't believe all of this is actually happening.

Here's Sarah's preliminary cover design:

Isn't it beautiful? I'm remembering that my job here is to admire and get back to studying sheep!  The sheep shown in that lower band of images, while they live on Shetland and produce perfectly fine fiber, are not the Shetland breed. I talked about this distinction between sheep-of-Shetland and Shetland-breed-sheep in The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook on page 189. I'll be looking at the whole context, with an emphasis on the breed. There will be at least one sheep of the Shetland breed in the final cover. (Truly: I have yet to meet a breed of sheep whose wool I didn't like. The second-from-right image there is almost certainly a Suffolk, and last week I taught a day's worth of workshop on Suffolk wool, which is one of the most overlooked treasures of our fiber array.)

Here's Donna's description of the project, from her latest Sheep to Shawl newsletter:

I’m excited to be able to introduce you to a new collaborative project I am working on, Dreaming of Shetland. This will be an ebook featuring a group of incredibly talented designers who are giving of their time and talents to help fund Deborah Robson’s research about Shetland sheep and wool. Over the next few months I will be featuring this project in my newsletter and on Facebook, with updates and information about pre-orders as soon as we are ready to accept payments. I hope you are as excited about this project as I am and I look forward to telling you more soon.

There will be a related website at dreamingofshetland.com (no link because as of this writing it does not yet exist).

The notebooks: And a proposed inside view of the Shetland research project

At the gathering in February, I passed around a notebook I'd used to collect my research for the article I wrote for the first issue of PLY Magazine. The reason was to show part of what I've been up to and how I'm going about it. For that article, I had to leave the computer systems behind and work by hand—a practice that I expect to need to continue while researching the Shetlands. The computer was invaluable for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, and is also essential for the writing portions of other projects including the PLY article and certainly any summations I do of the Shetland research. However, where multiple small bits need to be comprehended and then pulled together, I found the visual and tactile approaches worked best.

Here's a page of the notes pertinent to the PLY article that I took from Juliet Clutton-Brock's A Natural History of Domesticated Mammals (1987):

It's essential to keep track of the publication dates of the research and commentary, because the state of knowledge is changing.

I also need to track dates within the material I'm reading. The timeline you see there is something I constructed to put observations in the appropriate sequence.

Here is one spread of notes from a later source, Tapio, et al., "Microsatellite-based Genetic Diversity and Population Structure of Domestic Sheep in Northern Eurasia" (2010):

The reaction to this was: "You need to share these." 

Me: "HUNH? They're just my notes."

Response: "You need to share your notes on the Shetland project while it is underway."

Not long after that, a member of the group offered to help me set up a subscription-based website on which I can post my thoughts and notes and other artifacts of the journey. We've had time to engage in preliminary conversations about this, but I haven't had time to do more than begin to consider what I might do with it.

Yes, high points of the quest will be on this blog. The subscription site will allow me to devote time to detailed coverage, which can't happen otherwise for the reasons noted at the start of this post. It will also provide interested readers with a central place to find more in-depth information about my research process, along with what I'm learning about the sheep and their wool.

In sum. . . . 

There are lots of fantastic ideas bouncing around, and what I need to do now is (1) get on top of mail and finances again, following my recent return from a teaching trip; (2) see whether I can get my taxes for 2012 done without having to file an extension (haven't had time to finish up the data—mileage, inventory, and so on); (3) proof pages for The Field Guide to Fleece; (4) continue organizing all the details (and fiber acquisition) for the remainder of the year's teaching events; and (5) keep up with the freelance editing work.

At the same time, tomorrow night I will, as usual for Tuesday nights when I'm at home in Colorado, go to a coffeeshop for three or four hours. While there, I hope to be able to read and take notes on one Shetland article (maybe two? hope springs eternal). I know which one I will turn to as soon as I get my cup of tea (perhaps Ti Kuan Yin) and bowl of vegetarian soup. That article has been printed out and has been riding around in my backpack, along with the notebook, the highlighters, and the pens, awaiting the moment when I can devote my attention to it.

I can't wait to find out what piece of the puzzle that particular article will fill in. And to make a list of further sources, another task that I have been looking for time to enjoy.

A workshop on Peruvian knitting, mostly of puntas!

Last weekend I took two textile workshops. This is remarkable. Mine is one of those lives where if I have time for a workshop, I don't have the money to do it; and if I have the money, I don't have the time or I'm in the wrong part of the world. I've been at more festivals and events than I can count or remember, but I'm most often the person behind the registration desk, the one driving the staff rental car into town to buy food for the participant who forgot to mention she was vegan and allergic to nuts, or the one teaching the class.

In 1990-something, I sat in on a half-day workshop at SOAR with Ed Franquemont, on a couple of Andean handspindle techniques. In another 1990-something, Stephenie Gaustad sat in a hallway during SOAR, when we both had a few moments, and taught me to spin cotton on a charkha (it was, I think, at Snowbird, which would make it 1996). In 1986, shortly before I moved to Colorado to work at Interweave Press, I took Celia Quinn's comprehensive spinning workshop under the sponsorship of the Boston Area Spinners and Dyers. What fine and memorable occasions. Most of my other recent learning has come through testing out the instructions that were about to be published in Spin-Off magazine or various textile books.

But last weekend Nilda Callañaupa Alvarez was teaching within easy reach of my home at a time when I wasn't out of town and when there was a bit of money in the bank that could be diverted. Wow.

Saturday was a knitting workshop. The only thing the workshop description mentioned was puntas, which I had learned to make from one of my editing projects, but I thought that Nilda would likely have different approaches to the process, and in any case I wanted to get to know her a little better: I've been following her work for years, and we'd met in passing at a number of fiber events but never had an actual conversation.

Puntas: literally "points," or in this context a type of edging, with many variations possible, used to begin the knitting on some Peruvian hats, bags, and other textiles. Think of them as cast-ons and picots that have grown up and gotten advanced university degrees.

The sum of my weekend experience: if you ever get a chance to take a class with Nilda, do.

Saturday we did learn to make puntas. All day. It was very cool. The varieties are endless, as are the techniques. Although I "got" all the ones Nilda showed us, I don't have a lot of faith that I'll remember how to make each of them without some refreshers. I heard a rumor that in the week after our workshop (the one just completed) Nilda would be at Interweave recording video of how to do some Peruvian knitting techniques. I trust the result will be a replacement for, and expansion on, the notes I didn't have time to take while I was learning, or the energy to jot down after I got home. Nilda is a superb teacher and her handouts are excellent. Still. These are tricky little processes.

Life is pretty crazy around here right now, so I won't do justice to the workshops in this blog post, or the next one. But I want to get something set down before yet another idea I want to share is gobbled by the press of deadlines and doesn't get into the blog at all.

This image shows my trial versions of the puntas we learned to make (plus an inspiring little hat that was tucked into the second bag of yarn Nilda gave me to work with: we each got one, all different).

Top right are the three-color puntas that we started with (#1), and bottom right are the five-color puntas that followed (#2). As I went along, I got better at putting the color joins where they were supposed to be. 

Top left is a deceptively simple little rickrack-like punta form (#3). These are the ones about which I woke up the next morning thinking, "I'll never remember how to do those!" (At the moment, I can still remember how to do all the others.) Bottom left is a relatively easy form of puntas that Nilda taught us at the end of the afternoon (#4). I think it was a reward for working the others.

She also talked about handling multiple colors of yarn, both tensioning and securing. These are things I know how to do, but now I have more options. Options always come in handy. The more I learn about textiles, the more there is to learn.

Now, here are puntas in use. Note the yarn above, which was about worsted-weight, very tightly twisted, two-ply handspun that Nilda provided for us. It's a lot bigger than the yarn used to knit the puntas on the pieces below. She thought it would be nice if we could easily see the stitches we were forming. We agreed.

Those are the #4-type puntas around the bottom of that hat.

Here's another type of puntas:

I'd need to look at them more carefully than the resolution of the image will allow to figure out which kind they are. Possibly a type we didn't cover.

The edges of this hat definitely display a punta variation we didn't do:

But the top of this little bag displays those sneaky little #3 puntas:

That's an interesting knitting technique on the bag, too. Nilda gave us a glimpse of how it's done, but there wasn't enough time to do more than enjoy it vicariously. We were too busy getting to know a few puntas.

Now one of the questions that arises is why does learning this stuff matter, either to me or to human civilization in general? For me, it's an opportunity to wonder at the number of things that people have devised to do with a material as simple as yarn: what we can fashion with, in this case, wool or alpaca fiber. For another, it's a chance to marvel once again at the astonishing ingenuity and endless creativity that people express through textiles. Especially the Peruvians. Throughout the history of the world, they have been the most prolific cultural group at devising amazing ways to construct and decorate textiles. Their accomplishments seem to me to be on a conceptual par with the greatest of modern inventions. All with very simple tools and materials.

Nilda and the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco (Centro de Textiles Tradicionales del Cusco) have been doing a lot to keep this body of cultural knowledge and these ways of thinking alive and vital, while providing sources of income to the weavers and knitters that are allowing them to, for example, send their children to school.

It was an honor to participate in that process in a small way.

And a friend who saw me there said, "I'm not used to seeing you this happy!"

When I'm home, I'm normally content and satisfied and interested, and also a little bit (or a lot) too busy. Simply "happy" is, therefore, apparently not something my hometown friends usually perceive. (I think I probably look pretty happy when I'm teaching; when I'm off somewhere quiet researching and spinning and knitting and weaving and writing; or when the dogs make me laugh; but for most of those times there aren't hometown witnesses.)

For the course of a weekend, though, I was able to enter a "beginner's mind" part of the textile world and discover new depths of creativity in fingers and fibers. That definitely made me happy.

Here's Nilda, checking Handwoven and Weaving Today editor Anita Osterhaug's punta progress.

There's always something new to learn.

Anita's vest is one of the products of CTTC weavers. It's handspun, naturally dyed, and handwoven. It's stunning, and it will last nearly forever. As the techniques have and will—as long as people keep learning and practicing them, even if it's just for a delightful day that ends in appreciation for the skill of the experts.

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How to easily buy CTTC textiles in North America? Cloth Roads.

Wool and chocolate: treasures to start a new year

Now here's a splendid way to start a new year.

On the right, treats from Theo Chocolate in Seattle. My daughter and I like to walk to the factory store and pick out a few delights to enjoy after we get home: one per day, split and shared. (The other members of our household don't appreciate chocolate, so we don't give them any.)

The ganache-filled confections have fairly short shelf-lives and you may have to get them on site; there was an "eat by" date on the case that was less than two weeks from when we were standing there choosing (January 9). The chocolate with the white square and stripes is a lemon ganache.

The caramels go a bit longer and can be ordered online. The one with the single swooping line is a gingersnap caramel. That one with the diagonal dusting of reddish sprinkles is a ghost chile caramel. Yum.

Theo is one of very few chocolate producers in North America that roasts its own beans (Hershey's is another; Blommer is a third—the differences in scale between these organizations and Theo is significant). Theo is also the only roaster that is organic and the first to be Fair Trade. Most chocolate manufacturers get their chocolate already processed from the beans--in bulk, ready to melt and form into finished items. (There's a lengthy and fascinating PDF here about the cocoa-to-chocolate process.)

So we came home with our small stash of chocolates—eight, to be savored, one at a time.

And I found waiting for me there a package with a skein of Blacker Yarns' St Kilda laceweight yarn. It made me think immediately of the Theo chocolates: smooth, elegant, tasty, exquisitely prepared.

Let me tell you a little about this yarn, which is a tour-de-force accomplishment that I look forward to savoring as deliberately and carefully as I will the chocolates. Unfortunately, I have no idea how you can get a skein, because I can't locate it on the Blacker Yarns site, but simply knowing it exists shows what can happen when determination, energy, skill, experience, and vision combine.

Okay, I am waxing rhapsodic. There's a reason.

St Kilda is a cluster of islands in the North Atlantic Ocean west of the Scottish Outer Hebrides. No one lives there any more, although evidence of human (and sheep) habitation goes back thousands of years. Two rare breeds of sheep have their home bases on these tiny outcroppings of land, otherwise best known for geology and populations of birds: Soay (from the island of Soay and now also on the larger island of Hirta) and Boreray (from the island of the same name). Their histories are quite different, and I can't go into that much detail or this post will never get done. The association of the breeds with the place is the reason for the yarn's name.

Neither Soay nor Boreray sheep have been bred for consistent wool. Both grow a range of fibers from very fine to remarkably coarse, both within individual fleeces and throughout the flocks.

A couple of years ago, Jane Cooper and Sue Blacker began a project to gather Boreray fleeces from throughout the U.K. and make a commercially spun yarn available, as a very limited run. The goal was to show the shepherds that their wool has value and to show fiber artisans that this breed-specific fiber can be rewarding to work with. Boreray wool doesn't fare well in mixed-wool large-scale commercial operations because of its variability in color and texture. Jane drove all over to get the fleeces—a feat in itself. Then Sue's expertise and the capacities of her mill in Cornwall took over. They produced a wonderful, robust aran-weight yarn.

My concern about the project was that the fine wools that some Boreray sheep produce would be obscured by the blending process. Fortunately, there were a number of identifiable fine-wool Boreray fleeces, and Jane and Sue were aware of this potential issue. They kept aside a selection of the finest Borerays for separate processing.

The result is brilliant. Blacker Yarns blended fine Soay (also a wool that requires sorting at a level that often isn't feasible) with the fine Boreray and spun a delicate yet sturdy yarn that is like a fine ganache: the right flavors in the right proportions, so that each enhances the other, in this case spun to the correct weight and with appropriate amounts of both singles and plying twist.

Handspinners, you can do this—if you have the patience to pull it off. Most fiber mills wouldn't even dream of making a small, specialized run like this. Vision + experience = delicious.

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Note 1: Apparently one yarn shop in Edinburgh bought the entire small batch of the St Kilda laceweight. There will be a follow-up run, using Shetland along with Soay and Boreray because there currently isn't enough of the latter wools in the right qualities to do a repeat of the first blend. I'm looking forward to seeing that, too—and grateful for the opportunity to enjoy special, short-run yarns now and then, even with the occasional disappointment of not being able to get more. Because who knows what we'll see in a future year?

Note 2: During the holidays, in fact, while I was traveling, someone wrote me through one electronic channel or other to ask if I could teach a workshop at a festival this year. With all the electronic forums out there, I can't remember which one and a lot of digging hasn't revealed the message. The weekend in question isn't an option, because I'm already booked (in fact, it looks like I'm fully booked for 2013 with a couple of commitments in 2014 already), but it would be nice if I could say so directly to the person who asked! If it was you, please get in touch again. Maybe we can consider 2014.

Note 3: I only teach at between four and six events a year. Getting the details squared away for 2013 has been an extended process because of family emergencies (and now I've come down with a post-holiday bug), but we'll soon have details up on the website at www.drobson.info. As a heads-up for this year, however, I will be teaching at the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival; the Kentucky Sheep & Fiber Festival; and the Wisconsin Sheep & Wool Festival. I'm doing the Explore 4 workshop in Friday Harbor, Washington, in March (full, with a waiting list) and it looks very likely that I'll be doing a similar event on the east coast in the fall.

Q&A: Tibetan lambskin

From time to time, I've decided to do a few Q&A posts. Sometimes people write with questions that I answer, or take a stab at answering, or for which I can at least offer resources that will help the inquirer track down more information. I don't have time to do a lot of specific research other than what I'm already doing, but I do spend a lot of time reading appropriate source material and sometimes—as in the case of this recent inquiry—I happen across useful details, which may, combined with a bit of interpretation I can supply from having seen and touched and spun and made fabric with a lot of different fibers, come close to providing an answer.

Here's the first Q&A. I've edited the questions and amplified my responses to make them read more smoothly than our original e-mail volley did. However, the interchange retains some of the progression of information that came from our discovery process. The only photos are, unfortunately, accessed through links because I don't have time to track down the owners and request permission to include images.

For those of you interested in the topic of making doll wigs, the questions came from Jessica Hamilton, who is writing a tutorial called Doll Makers Guide to Wigging Fibers. It will consist of ten complete lessons on how to wig dolls of all types, including restoration and doll-alteration projects—sounds fascinating and useful! Jessica says the first lesson will be released free to all of her Doll Project newsletter subscribers, and she sends out free doll-related projects on the first Friday of every month. Her newsletter sign-up box is here.

Now let's deal with that question, which initially stumped Jessica, my co-author Carol Ekarius, and me, but ended up revealing interesting wool-related information.

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Q: I am a doll maker interested in doll wigging and hair fibers. I picked up your Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook. . . . What a wealth of information. I am finding all the information on loose fibers I could possibly need, but I am a bit stumped when it comes to popular lambskins. Many wig makers use "Tibetan lambskins" to create wigs. I realize this is the whole skin and is out of the normal realm of spinning, but I am hoping you can help. I having a difficult time finding out what exactly a Tibetan lambskin comes from.

In your book you explain that the name doesn't always really fit the fiber. Is the Tibetan really a type of sheep? Or is it just a name for the skin? What breed or breeds is it derived from? I realize the animal is killed for food and the skins are then harvested—do you know if there are ethical and/or humane concerns about skin procurement?

I read the first sections of your book and have read pieces and parts of the animal sections—I apologize if this information is already in the book, it's a big book! If this is the case, please let me know which section(s) I might look in!

Thanks so much!

A—phase 1: Pelts

Use of fibers for dollmaking and skins for pelts aren't topics I know a great deal about, but I may be able to shed some light for you.

Certain of the English longwools are often mentioned as resources for making doll hair (Lincolns, Cotswolds, Leicester Longwools), as is, of course, mohair, but mentions I've found for use of those fibers refer to their shorn form. These are especially supple, lustrous, long materials.

Co-author Carol Ekarius chimed into this conversation with some notes about what are traditionally called pelt sheep, which are raised, as more commonly understood fur animals are, for the skin-plus-fiber combination. Slaughtering is how those materials are acquired. The advantage to using sheepskins for doll wigs is that the hair doesn't need to be rooted in a base—it is already rooted. Some sheep bred for their pelts include Karakuls and Norwegian Pelssaus.

I'm a vegetarian. I prefer to have my fibers come without the skin—and for the animal who grew those fibers to continue growing more for the next year. I don't even like talking about how Persian lamb (from Karakul sheep) is obtained; the animal is slaughtered before or shortly after birth, because the fiber only has Persian lamb's characteristic texture and curl during a very brief period in the growth cycle. As the animal matures, the fiber quickly opens and loosens and becomes longer and wavier, instead of curly. I do read about Persian lamb because it reveals a great deal about wool growth, and the lamb pelt is amazing, beautiful stuff—which I can certainly do without as a material for crafting of any sort, although I think using it when it comes from an animal that didn't survive for other reasons (for example, died of natural causes, not just the obtaining of the pelt) is a means of honoring the brief life that produced it.

A—phase 2: Tibetan—geographic catch-all or an identifiable breed?

Next comes the question of what a Tibetan lambskin might be. Often such a broad geographical term refers not to a specific breed but to any sheep of any breeed from a given area, and that was both Carol's and my first instinct in guessing what you're dealing with.

Yet when I went to Mason's World Dictionary of Livestock Breeds, Types and Varieties by Valerie Porter and I. L. Mason, the latest edition (5th, 2002), I learned that there does appear to be a distinct Tibetan breed, generally raised for meat. Meat animals are most often killed young; the lambskins would be a byproduct and not the reason for the slaughter.

Here's what Mason's offers us in the way of breed information, with a geographic link I've added:

"Tibetan: (Qinghai-Tibet plateau, China, also N Nepal, also N Sikkim and Kameng, Arunachal Pradesh, India)/m.cw.(pa)/usu. black or brown head and legs; hd; st/vars: Sanjiang, Shangu, Tengchong, Yaluzangbu; strains: Ganjia, Ganqin/orig. of Qinghai Black Tibetan/Ch. Xizang, Aang, Zangxi/syn. (Nepal) Bhanglung, Bhote, Bhotia, Bhyanglung"

Well. Because the information is so condensed, deciphering a listing in Mason's can be like working a puzzle. There are a few items in there that I'm not entirely clear on, but I can put most of that data into plain English. This is my attempt to get as much information out of the listing as I quickly can:

There is a Tibetan breed, which is found in the locations noted. It's grown primarily for meat and produces a carpet-type wool. (The abbreviation (pa) means "pack" according to the book's key, but I don't have time to figure out what that means in this context. It doesn't currently make sense to me.) These sheep usually have black or brown heads and legs (that's clear enough). Both males and females have horns (if the males did and females did not, that would be indicated with symbols). They have short tails. Varieties or subbreeds derived from this breed include the Sanjiang, Shangu, Tengchong, and Yaluzangbu. Strains, or subpopulations, include the Ganjia, Ganqin. The Tibetan is the origin of the Qinghai Black Tibetan. The Chinese names for the Tibetan breed (Pinyin romanization) are Xizang, Aang, and Zangxi. Synonyms (names for the same breed(s) in one or more countries other than their place of origin or primary identification) are, for Nepal, Bhanglung, Bhote, Bhotia, and Bhyanglung.

(Note that Mason's introduction offers up a flexible definition of "breed" and doesn't define "variety" or "strain." There are practical reasons for this, although as a result we end up with useful but fuzzy information.)

A—phase 3: A follow-up response with some details about Tibetan sheep that fiber folk will understand

I've been doing research on other sheepy topics and just happened across some relevant information in an article. The source is Kalle Maijala, "Genetic Aspects of Domestication, Common Breeds and Their Origin," in The Genetics of Sheep, edited by Laurie Piper and Anatoly Ruvinsky (Oxfordshire, UK; New York, NY: CAB International, 1997, page 44). (Maijala is, by the way, one of the primary researchers into sheep genetics.)

"Tibetan is an autochthonous breed developed in the Qinghai-Tibet mountain plateau (now in China), at more than 3000 m of altitude. It is almost the only breed of Tibet and is also kept in northern Nepal and three regions of India. It is a carpet-wool sheep with a small tail. It is adapted to unfavourable environments and can deposit fat in the viscera around the stomach and kidneys and in the mesentery. The fleece weight of rams/ewes is 1.4/0.7 kg, staple length 9.5 cm and fibre diameter 20.6μ [microns]. There are 80% of true fibres, 5% of heterotype fibres, 15% hair and no kemp. The dressing % in males/females is 48.3/54.0. The average height of rams/ewes is 66/42 cm and weight 45/34 kg, and lambing rate 103% (Cheng, 1984)."

Okay! This is getting really interesting!

First, the Tibetan sheep is a breed on its own.

Autochthonous means, according to a dictionary, "formed or originating in the place where found." The use of the word is debatable in terms of long-term sheep history (and the debate probably can't be resolved) because almost all sheep originally came from somewhere else, but this does mean that these sheep are closely identified with their location and not obviously descended from other breeds in ways that we know about yet.

Because it is "almost the only breed of Tibet," then it has a defined identity in that region and we're not talking about whatever varied types of sheep happen to be in Tibet (even though there is variety within this breed, as we can tell from Mason's mention of varieties and strains).

Second, the description of the wool got my attention. 

Carpet-wool: generally long, coarse, and often a mix of wool and hair. (The small tail is an interesting aside, because many of the sheep in the part of the world we're talking about have fat and/or long tails. Genetically this raises interesting, but not currently relevant, questions. Okay, avoiding a trip down that side trail. . . .)

They have small fleeces: ewes (of which there are many more than rams, no matter the husbandry goal of the flock) grow about 0.7kg (1.5 pounds) of wool a year. That's a tiny amount. The wool is a little under 4 inches long (9.5cm) and. . . .

Here's where I went on alert: "fibre diameter 20.6μ" (microns). That's in the range for Merinos. It's exceptionally fine. Classification of cashmere starts at 18 microns and goes finer. Average (not Merino) wool knitting yarns tend to be in the 25- to 32-micron range. Something very interesting is going on here.

That mix of fibers types (and their percentages) is also suggestive, but I'd need to see actual wool from the breed to talk a lot more about it.

Qs continue: This is fantastic information! In light of this, would you say the skins being purchased are still likely a regional mix of the carpet-wool breeds?

Do you know what age a sheep of this sort would be butchered for skin/meat? Is it the meat that dictates the slaughtering age or the fiber growth? I know if I can find these answers it should help further educate a doll maker's purchasing decisions when it comes to skins vs loose fibers. . . . [T]he already rooted fibers are easy to brush and style, but many creators snip the locks off the skin and use them for direct application, which defeats the purpose of having the skin. There is much more variety to be found in loose locks and fibers, as you well know.

A—phase 4: In sum, so far

I think at this point that the skins are likely coming from lambs of the Tibetan breed, and I say that only because the article in The Genetics of Sheep says that it is "almost the only breed of Tibet"—and because the description of the wool was unusual enough to get my attention. Thus the term "Tibetan" likely can be applied in both senses—type of sheep and geographic region of origin, and the wool likely does not come from a regional mix of carpet-wool breeds. My further investigations (phase 5, below) support me in this theory.

My original guess is that the slaughter occurs because of meat and the skin is a byproduct. Humane aspects of the slaughter would be determined by the husbandry preferences and cultural practices of the humans who keep the sheep. The age of slaughter would be determined by the meat aspect, rather than the fiber growth, and I would estimate four to eight months.

A—phase 5: What is this stuff like???

I looked up "Tibetan lambskin" in a search engine to see if I can give you a better answer to why Tibetan lambskin has become a mainstay of dollmakers' wigs.

 

The images I located showed me clearly why it's so appealing, and give some context to those of us not in the doll world. (I do note that some of the sites think that Tibetan lambskin is another name for mohair; it is not. Mohair, grown by angora goats, is quite different.)

 

Here's an image of a Waldorf-style doll, likely made of all-natural materials (as Waldorf toys tend to be). I hope it won't have moved by the time you look; this is a sale site for an individual item. Yet the text says the item is no longer available and the page remains, so perhaps it will stay put.

 

Here's a group of images of completely different styles of dolls, and includes detailed information on how the wigs are constructed.

Maijala's description of the average fiber diameter of the Tibetan breed as around 21 microns means this is unusually fine wool, especially for a breed with the length and texture seen in the fleeces—that's in the same range of micron counts as Merino, but for a very different type of fiber. That's why it makes good dolls' hair. (Merino would not, unless spun into yarn, which would give a totally different effect.)

It has an excellent texture and fineness; it has an intriguing appearance and feel (compared to the English longwools and mohair, it's not as shiny and has a "fluffier" look); it "falls" naturally; and it is likely pretty easy to work with.

Here's one supplier, with information on the status of the skin as a byproduct of meat.

Among collectors, I am guessing that some vegetarians (including most vegans) would not be comfortable with the use of the skins. And I'll bet that because of the texture and the ease of working with the material, they'd be sorely tempted. Making use of the skin is a way of deriving some good from the death of an animal that died for other reasons.

In short: Tibetan lambskin comes from a specific breed of sheep. It has unique and valuable qualities that make it especially well suited for making doll wigs. Where the ethical lines about its use get drawn is, of course, up to the individual.

UK visa requirements for people like me who might want to teach a fiber workshop, as far as I can understand them

I'm putting together this somewhat technical post in case any other potential fiber instructors or workshop sponsors might want to try to figure out the visa situation as it relates to U.S. residents (in particular) who might want to teach short workshops in the U.K. I'm summarizing my research and welcome any discussion, insights, ways other people have managed to leap the bureaucratic hurdles, and so on.

(Photo I took on one of the lovely walks I enjoyed around Stirling while the visa situation for UK Knit Camp was churning its way to conclusion.)

As I've mentioned, in the case of UK Knit Camp in 2010 even though there was preparatory correspondence about visa requirements and even though we overseas, non-EU instructors had supplied all necessary information in advance, once we arrived the paperwork was not in order. We could not teach initially, even as volunteers (notes about why below), and one instructor was turned back—i.e., had to spend the night in an approved location and fly back across the Atlantic the day after her arrival, and never did teach. One consequence of being found in violation of the visa requirements is not being able to enter the UK for any reason for ten years. (This did not affect the turned-back instructor, fortunately. She just had a very expensive round-trip, anxiety-wracked adventure.)

My source of information is the UK Border Agency website, which I must say is amazingly complicated.

The most promising category for traveling instructors in the fiber arts appears to be:

"Permitted paid engagement visitor"

"If you want to come to the UK as a visitor to do short-term, fee-paid activity you can apply for a visa as a permitted paid engagement visitor." The time covered is limited to a month. That's okay for almost all of us.

"The category of visitors undertaking permitted paid engagements is for a defined list of visitors who are invited to come to the UK because of their particular skills and expertise. They may apply to come here for up to 1 month without the need to be sponsored under the points-based sytem. The category is for visiting examiners or assessors; lecturers; overseas designated pilot examiners; qualified lawyers; and professional artists, entertainers and sportspersons."

In order to do this: "You must provide a formal invitation to undertake the pre-arranged engagement, and show that the engagement relates to your: expertise and/or qualifications; and full-time occupation in your home country."

The option requires sponsorship that may be possible for many of us to obtain, except that it isn't clear what level of formality is required in the sponsoring organization: "Visiting lecturers: You must be invited by a UK higher education institution or UK-based arts or research organisation to give a lecture or series of lectures in your field of expertise." or "Arts, entertainment or sports professionals: You must be invited by a UK-based arts or sports organisation or broadcaster to carry out an activity related to your profession in the arts, entertainment or sports. This may include fashion models coming to the UK to undertake a specific engagement, providing they do not intend to base themselves in the UK long-term." Would a fiber guild qualify as an "arts or research organisation"?

There are limitations to this option that apply to most of the other alternatives as well: "You must also be able to show that, during your visit, you do not intend to: take paid or unpaid employment, produce goods or provide services, including the selling of goods or services directly to members of the public other than as permitted for by the permitted paid engagement." I think this means that the "permitted engagement" list needs to include each workshop, if more than one will be taught. And I'm not sure what the paperwork and coordination for that would involve. I don't think sponsor licenses are required, but I may have missed that tidbit in the morass of detail.

How the mess was ultimately managed at UK Knit Camp

For a while, it looked like all the U.S. instructors were going to need to fly to Ireland and then re-enter the U.K., because all visa details have to be in place before entry. As it was, we took a useless round-trip drive to Glasgow, and then had to send our passports off for special treatment. High levels of government got involved in creating a way through the tangle of red tape, and while we didn't have to do a quick visit to an Irish airport, we did end up anxiously awaiting the outcome (as did the people registered for our classes: because the schedule had to be rearranged, I ended up teaching two classes simultaneously on the Friday of that week—fortunately, in the same room).

I was in a significantly better position than some of the other instructors because the teaching was only part of the agenda for my trip. Admittedly, I would not have made the trip in the first place if the teaching had not promised to pay the expenses and permit me to make enough to meet my bills at home. However, by the time I made the trip I was also going to do freelance research for the book (Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook) and for some magazine articles, which I did write and publish (although by themselves those articles would in no way have even begun to cover the trip's expenses). So I did have legitimate reasons for being in the U.K. beyond the teaching engagement, and those reasons did not require a visa or any additional paperwork.

(I had a wonderful time researching the Stirling tapestry project. Unfortunately, the magazine that published the piece had nowhere near enough space for what I wanted to write. Actually, what I did write, before I cut back to their word count.)

(The Sheep Day sponsored by the Rare Breeds Survival Trust took place at this lovely location, and there were amazing people in attendance.)

For the teaching portions of the activities, the UK Knit Camp instructors ended up with temporary residence permits as Tier 5 TW (Cre-Sport) Migrants; Cre-Sport means Creative/Sporting and the category is intended for entertainers (and presumably other creative types) and athletes. This classification requires a sponsor, who has to have a sponsor license for tier 5 (there are several tier types, and each requires that the sponsoring-and-employing organization pay a £500 licensing fee). Each sponsored individual must also be issued a Certificate of Sponsorship (a quite affordable £13).

A common theme within the visa requirements is that the person does "not intend to: take paid or unpaid employment, produce goods or provide services, including the selling of goods or services directly to members of the public." That "unpaid" provision meant that at UK Knit Camp we could not even work for free until the bureaucratic machinations had been completed.

Other categories

Here are the other options I have taken notes on—all are far more restrictive, expensive, or complicated than the "permitted paid engagement visitor."

Visitors:

- "General visitor" - "must . . . be able to show that, during your visit, you do not intend to: take paid or unpaid employment, produce goods or provide services, including the selling of goods or services directly to members of the public." This was what I was, as a freelance writer researching for future publications.

- "Business visitor" - "This includes academic visitors, visiting professors, overseas news media representatives and film crews on location." Sounds promising. But "you must be able to show that: you receive your salary from abroad (although it is acceptable for you to receive reasonable travel and subsistence expenses while you are in the UK)" and same as above (no paid or unpaid employment or services). I.e., no payment from U.K. sources.

(Admittedly, for tax purposes it is far better for U.S. instructors to be paid in U.S. funds on an U.S. bank. Otherwise we also have to figure out how to negotiate international tax filings, something I am failing at this year with regard to brief Canadian employment. The Canadian government will be benefiting to the extent of the money withheld, which I could legally reclaim if I filed another double set of tax returns, both provincial and federal—yet it would cost me more to complete this process than I would be refunded.)

(View from a hotel room in Glasgow.)

(Kelvingrove Museum, Glasgow.)

Temporary workers:

"High value migrants" - these are on what is called a points-based system, and require a sponsor as one of the components of getting enough points to qualify. I think these are intended for people who plan to stay for a longer time and actually work a job that might otherwise be held by a U.K. resident (perfectly understandable that those would be protected).

- The writers, composers and artists category is closed and not taking any new applications.

- Tier 1 (Exceptional Talent) includes "people who are recognised or have the potential to be recognised as leaders in the fields of science and the arts." Might be supportable in some environments, but there are a strictly limited number of these types of endorsements, and they can only be issued by the Royal Society, Arts Council England, British Academy, or Royal Academy of Engineering. And the application fee is £816.

- Tier 1 (Entrepreneur) requires even more money (investment of a huge amount of cash and guarantee of two new jobs for people already in the U.K.).

- Tier 1 (General) would have been promising, since "The Tier 1 (General) category allows highly skilled people to look for work or self-employment opportunities in the UK. Tier 1 (General) migrants can seek employment in the UK without a sponsor, and can take up self-employment and business opportunities here." EXCEPT "This category is now closed to applicants who are outside the UK, and to migrants who are already here in most other immigration categories."

"Temporary workers" of other types require sponsorship. This includes the previously used Tier 5 (Creative & Sporting), for which the sponsor must have the appropriate £500 license and the aforementioned individual Certificate of Sponsorship (£13).

In sum

This visa question poses interesting (if frustrating and befuddling) challenges. It would be helpful if those of us in the position of wanting to share information about fibers through workshops or presentations, and also to be able to meet our household expenses when we return home, can work together on what we learn about negotiating this labyrinth, climbing these cliffs, safely navigating these waters, or whatever it takes to get the job done. Especially, in my case and some others', because a huge part of what we do involves the use of British breed-specific wools and also carrying back to North America information that will increase awareness of, and presumably income from, British knitwear designers' and teachers' efforts.

If appropriate visa or permit conditions can't be puzzled out in a way that works efficiently and economically for the upcoming hypothetical trip, I'll have no problem simply enjoying the research and writing aspects (even though I do like to teach) and will plan upon my return to teach related workshops (somehow) by way of the internet, from my home base on this side of the Atlantic.

But it's so much more enjoyable and rewarding for everyone involved if I can put fibers directly into people's hands, and if we can talk in real-time about what we're discovering. I just don't know how it's possible.

(I have a lot of wonderful photos from my extensive walks around Stirling during the visa complications.)

British Isles 2013?

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I apologize in advance if I'm not very responsive right now. The hard drive (six months old) on my computer (4+ years old) died completely on Friday, which explains the computer's increasingly balky behavior. The drive is under warranty, but at the moment the computer is best suited for use as a doorstop. Thus I have only intermittent and partial access to my working files—actually, I have the files. I just don't have the programs that I use to work with them. I'm sorry for any delays in getting back to folks. I'm working on it. Fortunately, this post was almost done and I transferred most of the photos to Dropbox as my mainstay machine wavered, then stumbled, and then quit. If a few of the photos here look odd, that's because for some reason those particular images inexplicably vanished during my emergency saving operations. And now to the main topic of this post. . . .

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So there's plotting going on. It seems to be gathering momentum. Because there's close to a year to get ready, I might actually be in the British Isles next fall. I would be there to do more on-site research about sheep and wool, which is absolutely the best kind of research. (I do consider the research that I do on a daily basis, at home, with the help of books, interlibrary loan, e-mails, and the internet to be absolutely essential foundational work.)

Several friends with whom I've talked about my challenges in getting information of all types, as an independent researcher without any organizational sponsorship or funding, have been encouraging me to make a trip and offering both moral and some crucial logistical help.

Much Depends. However, the fantasy of this trip is coalescing around October 2013, in large part because of a number of events that will be taking place then, including Shetland Wool Week and the Campaign for Wool's Wool Week.

When I was in Scotland in 2010 for UK Knit Camp, I had hoped to take one side trip to do some research. I had to think of a single place that would have sheep that I wanted to have more firsthand knowledge about, that I could get to in the available time, and that would fit my budget. I settled on North Ronaldsay, in Orkney: Shetland was farther and more expensive than I could manage. I did a lot of what-iffing and planning. I got books. (I had maps.)

I discovered the land-and-sea methods by which I could afford to get to North Ronaldsay, and that the Bird Observatory offers good, inexpensive lodging, and vegetarian meals.

Then it turned out that I would need to be back in the States to help with photography for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook a few days after I finished teaching at UK Knit Camp. I could still get to North Ronaldsay, but I would need to fly. Flying wasn't in my budget.

Instead, with the help of June Hall and Sue Blacker, I went to Cumbria. I had a fantastic time. I also visited Glasgow for a day and a half as a way of making my trip to the airport easier (and more fun). (Kelvingrove Museum. Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Walking around, including from one accommodation to the other, since I couldn't get two nights at the same location. Bookstores: bought a map.)

Nonetheless, my interest in the contexts of the sheep, especially of Shetland, has been longstanding.

Close-up of a few of those books above:

I bought History of Scotland, Invaders of Scotland, Off the Beaten Track Scotland, Chronicles of the Vikings, and Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings at least a decade ago, and probably more like fifteen or twenty years ago, when I was researching something. The primary topic was probably sheep. The narrow item between the Scotland cluster and those two Viking volumes is the map of northern Scotland shown a couple of images ago. I suspect I got these resources when I was fact-checking items for Spin-Off. The map revision date is as of September 1992, and its printing date is 1993, which makes the "fact-checking for Spin-Off" and estimate of just under twenty years highly likely.

And. . . .

Another close-up:

Colin Baxter and Jim Crumley's Shetland: Land of the Ocean is, like the map of northern Scotland, dated 1992. I can tell from the label on the back, although the bookstore's name isn't included, that I bought it at the Tattered Cover in Denver. At the time, the main Tattered Cover store, where I went most often, was in the Cherry Creek neighborhood (the main store is now on Colfax). I don't remember where I came across J. Laughton Johnston's A Naturalist's Shetland, but I do remember that I caught sight of it in one or another independent bookstore when it was new (copyright 1999) and bought it without much internal debate, even though it was a hardcover and stretched my budget beyond its comfort level. It's a lovely book, although sheep are only mentioned on 9 of its 506 pages (and sheepdogs on just one).

I'm always interested in natural, cultural, and historical contexts. I've had some opportunities to explore those in relation to sheep (and generally) as I've traveled for other purposes. Because of time I've spent in the Southwest, I have always made sure that the vehicle I own has high enough clearance to manage two-track travel, away from pavement.

That's one of the shelves of books related to the Southwest, particularly textiles. I read Gladys Reichard's Spider Woman and Dezba, Woman of the Desert at least thirty-five years ago (they were written in the 1930s), about the time I was constructing a Navajo-style loom and weaving a rug that I gave my mother. (That was the same time that my cat had been hit by a car, and I spent a month tending him around the clock. He was a year and a half old. After the accident, he had only one intact leg-and-paw, one of the front ones, which earned him the additional nickname Thunderpaw. He lived to be fifteen; died in 1988; and I still miss him. Weaving the rug—which I did twice, since I pulled the weft out of the nearly finished first version because the edges were pulling in more than I wanted them to—and providing hourly care to that cat, whose most common name was Wow, are completely integrated in my memory.)

I do love books. But I love even more putting together the background information not only with the work of my hands, which I can do at home, but with the people, the landscapes, and the living animals that create and sustain both traditions and new visions.

So, while there are many places I want to go and people I want to meet and talk with, Shetland is very high on my list.

With the assistance of my "why not?" friends, we've gotten as far as picking a time to organize our ideas around (October) and securing a place to stay in the appropriate part of the world during Shetland Wool Week.

One item at a time: that's how The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook went from idea to completion.

As it stands, I will be traveling just to do research, and not to teach, although I've had people inquiring about whether I might be teaching in the UK in the foreseeable future. On the previous trip, I was fortunate that I was traveling both to teach and to do research, for the book and for some articles that I later published. For me, the trip had a clear purpose regardless of its outcome.

The ramifications of the visa situation that we overseas instructors encountered in getting permission to teach at UK Knit Camp were impressive. My explorations of the latest information on the UK Border Agency site (not the easiest resource for a non-UK resident to understand!) indicate that significant paperwork and fees, including investments for both sponsor licensing and individual visas, are required to clear all the necessary hurdles.

I don't want this potential upcoming trip marred by any potential problems. If there are other folks who understand this stuff better than I do and can help me negotiate the legalities, I'd consider teaching in person, which I love to do. If not, I'll be contemplating other ways to teach, likely computer-mediated. It's not the same as being together in person, and once UK Knit Camp actually happened I met many wonderful people whom I look forward to seeing again on the upcoming hypothetical trip. But teaching by internet doesn't require any visas.

In any case, I enjoy travel. I'm open to possibilities and suggestions. And some of this (or all, or more) just might happen!

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Have maps, will travel? Here's my personal map repository, part 1:

and part 2:

I couldn't get the whole shelf in one snapshot.

The brightly colored boxes on the righthand end include places I can't get to (theoretically) by walking, biking, or driving. The British Isles burst out of general International in conjunction with the 2010 trip. The only state in the US that I haven't been to is Hawai'i, although many years ago I was accepted to the university to study languages, and one of the things I have always wondered about is what my life would have been like if I'd gone there, instead of getting married. I've been in Nova Scotia, Quebec, Ontario, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and British Columbia. I've been to Japan for a whole summer, and briefly, southern Spain (eight days, during most of which I had food poisoning; it was still a good trip). And the one trip to the UK for Knit Camp.

Due to previous adventures, many imaginary and that one real bit of 2010, I'm especially well supplied with maps of Scotland, although I have maps of other places in that part of the world. My aunt gave me her maps from her trips to the UK, doing genealogical research. I'm also willing to get new maps of other places.

Map of South East Scotland: one of my aunt's; copyright MCMLXXVIII (1978).

Pink-covered map of Barnard Castle & Richmond on the right: one of my aunt's, copyright 1982. Map of Penrith & Keswick: bought in Glasgow to help me remember where I'd been in Cumbria. Map of Ireland on the left: we got this almost a decade ago to see where our friend JG lives. The place is so small that it doesn't show up on any but the most detailed maps. Five years and a lot of saving later, one of us got to go to Ireland, including that tiny place, for two weeks.

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Maps are magic. Maps can make dreams happen.