Lace 101
September 3rd, 2007 by Jill HallWhat is bobbin lace? I know it is not made by cutting threads out of a fabric and then filling in the open places. It isn’t crocheted or knitted. Bobbin lace is made by twisting threads (wound on bobbins) around pins. There seems to be a fair amount of magic involved. Here’s a PICTURE of bobbin lace in process. (thanks, Wikipedia)
I tackled the embroidery part of the jacket project first before launching into the lace production because the embroidery will take a lot longer and because the lace isn’t strictly absolutely necessary. We could make a creditable recreation of a Stuart jacket without it. I felt I had to get the embroidery piece not only up and running but well and truly underway before I leaped into an area I know even less about. But over the last few weeks, I’ve opened up the lace discussion.
Let me ‘fess up right off the bat: I’ve never tried making bobbin lace. I’ve found that some fiber arts or needlework techniques “call” to me, and some don’t. Bobbin lace never has. (Lace has remained politely silent as opposed to card weaving which positively thumbs its nose at me. But I digress.) I love to see lace, to own it and use it, I enjoy watching others making lace, but I just don’t have the desire to do some myself.
I’ve been learning a lot, though. I learned that the bobbins (with the thread wound on them) usually travel in pairs. The members of each pair can interact with each other or interact as one with another pair. Interactions are like over or under or twists or more complicated than that. I learned that while in some lace traditions the foot (flat edge, the edge you’d sew to the hem of your slip, say) is on the left, other lacers always place the foot on the right. It matters, though, because there’s a right side and a wrong side to lace. The right side is usually the side facing down, away from the lacer as worked, and if you’ve got the foot on the wrong side your lace will be backwards. Good to know.
I also learned that there are different ways to accomplish certain maneuvers, and if you’re going to want several different people to make lace for one big project you’d best make sure everyone’s using the same methods. Also good to know.
Over the next few days I’ll delve into the decisions we have to make in order to create appropriate lace for the jacket, and how we’ll make them. For today I’ll end with a story. This is a true story but it happened a long time ago. I can very clearly remember some details, but some are hazy, like what city it was and whether I was at a museum or a senior center or somewhere else. Fortunately the lost details are immaterial.
Once upon a time, in a city in Brussels my traveling companion and I heard an odd noise as we walked across a square. The noise was like thousands of fingernails tapping, not in time but in irregular rhythms. There were so many taps or clicks that you couldn’t hear individual ones, only a sort of hum. We went in an open door and up a set of stairs – other people were going in, too – and the noise got louder and louder. We came into a room with maybe a dozen older ladies (I was really young then, maybe they were only as old as I am now but they seemed grandmotherly to me) making bobbin lace. The noise was the sound of the bobbins clicking against each other as they threw them back and forth. Each of their pillows had dozens and dozens of bobbins. I was mesmerized by the speed of their hands, that clicking hum, and the way the lace grew. They barely paused to move pins, and were so skilled that they could glance up and look around the room while they worked. That was the first time I saw anybody making bobbin lace and I’ve always remembered that sound, and the awe and admiration I felt for the years and years of experience that enabled them to work so fast and so beautifully.





