Spiraling Notions

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So I decided to start weaving, on a floor loom. After watching the zen people seem to hit weaving back and forth with a boat shuttle I realized that I needed to find that happy place for myself.

I started weaving on a Kromsky Harp, rigid heddle loom, that I got for a present. It was/is an awesome gift and I enjoy using it. I naively bought a boat shuttle with my harp because -hey- thats what you use... no folks, not with a rigid heddle you don't.

But there is something about the full body experience of weaving on a floor loom I wanted to try, it began to eat at me.

I have obscene taste in quality goods... like Drudik spinning wheels for example. So, semi-despairing, I paging though magazines, supply sites and weavezines searching for the perfect floor loom I would not buy. I fantasized that I would meet an elderly lady, whose weaving was her life, but she simply could not weave anymore. She wanted to pass her loom on to someone who would use and cherish it, me of course. She would pass on any skills she could impart as well. Not just a benefactor but a mentor. I sighed a lot and moved on with life.

The one day I was looking at CraigsList.org for yarn lots... when what do my wondering eyes find? I large lot of yarns, various, from a "former" weaver who cannot use the loom anymore. Not a loom for sale, but just the yarns. I decided to kick off an email asking about the yarns, and hypothetically, about the loom - because as I mentioned before I am NOT in the market for one and where the hell would I put it anyway...

Well, yes the loom is for sale. It is a custom, handmade loom in good condition. Easy to assemble and move. Would I like to look at it? Here is a scan the original brochure for the loom...

Okay, okay... what is the harm in LOOKING at it?

It occurs to me that this is how the plot of most horror stories play out... I mean, its just a basement right? What could be down there... I'll just take a peak.

It is also clear to me, now, that I had it in my mind to get myself a loom and was working in some clandestine altered state of reality where my subconscious was working out the details, the main body completely oblivious to any non-routine balance inquiries at the bank or late night measurements of all the free space in the house...

It is hard to imagine that I had this complete little fairy tale and it actually came true. Its still hard for me to believe. Just two weeks ago I welcomed my new (old) Walling Floor loom. It came from a family who loved it, as well as those who made it, and wanted to pass it on to someone who would use and cherish it. I can't see how hard it will be to live up to the expectations passed on, and I am excited at the opportunity to try.

After opening the storage portion of the bench and unfolding a parchment style paper from the 1960's (a handwritten letter by Bill Walling and his wife, Marie to the couple I purchased the loom from) I have even begun to archive any information I can find about the people who made these looms and their personal history.


Yes, I know...
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