I will be taking an indefinite break from my blog, and I miss it already,  but it’s the only way that I can finish my website, which has been “under construction” for years  (that’s my home page above).  I will post from time to time, when I just can’t help myself, but, hey — gotta work. When my site is up,  I’ll post the good news — and the link — here.

My subscribers will automatically be alerted when I start posting again,  so if you’re interested, please subscribe, or send me your e-mail address, so you’ll know when I’m back.  Thanks for reading,  and I’ll catch you on the flip side.

Fern

Traditional drum by Maxon. Photo courtesy of Michelle Karshan

As the days are growing shorter and darker (more so now that daylight savings time has ended),  I wanted to feature unusually bright,  colorful textiles this week,  so finding a “sequined Haitian ceremonial flag exhibition” in Brooklyn last weekend was pure serendipity.  I had never heard of,  or seen,  Haitian banners (drapo) before,  but something that is described as being “richly textured with hand-sewn beads,  sequins,  and pearls”  always gets my attention.  About a dozen sequined and beaded banners,  from Michelle Karshan’s collection,  were on display at Gumbo,  an eclectic store/gallery on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn (see below).

"Drapo" exhibition at Gumbo, Brooklyn

I spoke to Michelle and to Gumbo’s owner,  Karen Zebulon,  and both were very knowledgeable about the flags and generously offered information and written materials that helped me understand the exotic and unfamiliar work.

Vodou is Haiti’s main religion,  and drapo are used to summon the spirits (Iwa) in Vodou ceremonies.  Each spirit has unique characteristics,  and the images and symbols of each are the subjects that recur in the flags.  The sequins and beads are hand-sewn onto cloth or a rice sack, with a satin backing and border.

The glowing drum in the flag shown at the top  of this post (and on the left of the exhibition photo) is surrounded by a joyously beaded multicolored snake.  The American Museum of Natural History says,  on its website,  “the drum is the most sacred of the objects [that are used in service to the Iwa],  for it speaks with a divine voice.  Without it there would be no Vodou.”  The snake symbolizes Damballah,  loving father to the world.

Slaves brought drapo to Haiti from West Africa,  where they were an anonymous folk art,  but as the banners became more widely appreciated and collected,  Haitian artists started to bead their names into their work.  The drum flag above is very subtly “signed” by the artist, Maxon Scylla,  along the lower right edge of the piece.  Below is a detail,  but the blue letters are still too hard to read.

Maxon signature

Drapo can be appreciated solely for their unusual beauty,  but as with all art,  the more you know about its context,  the better you can appreciate it.  If you would like to know more,  here are some good sources to start with:  To see more banners,  visit the Haiti Art Cooperative website,  here,  and for exellent historical and cultural information about Haiti and Vodou, see the American Musem of Natural History’s website, here.  Sequined ceremonial flags were included in the museum’s 1998 Sacred Arts of Haitian Vodou exhibition in NYC,  but I missed it,  so I’m glad I got to Gumbo.

Berber wedding blanket

This week’s featured weave, the wedding blanket of which a detail is shown above,  was handwoven by Berber women in the mountains of Morocco.  (I should perhaps mention that Berbers — who call themselves “Imazigen,” which means “free people” in the Berber language — are indigenous people who have lived in North Africa for 4,000 years.)  This was another gift from my friend Penelope,  who traveled to the Fès-Meknès area and brought back some fascinating textiles.  Wedding blankets are believed to have magical powers that protect the users from the evil eye, so this would have been an especially welcome gift.  (Click this link to read an earlier post about another Moroccan textile from Penelope’s trip.  That fabric’s silk fiber content is suddenly in doubt after a reader posted interesting information about it.)

My blanket is 3′7″ x 5′8″, and is very warm to sleep under.  It is densely woven plain weave,  in natural-colored sheep’s wool,  with lighter-colored nubby cotton stripes and smooth cotton knotted pile fringe.  Round metal sequins,  like the ones visible in the photos,  are traditionally sewn on by brides-t0-be and their relatives.

Knotted pile with sequins

In  his excellent book The Techniques of Rug Weaving,  Peter Collingwood says, ” A clove hitch on one or two warp ends, is used in some Moroccan rugs.”  My blanket’s fringe has four multi-strand knots per inch,  as shown in the photo above.  I can’t tell whether the clove hitch is the knot that was used or not,  but maybe I can find out at the October 31 meeting of the New York Guild of Handweavers,  when Susan S. Davis,  an anthropologist and expert on Moroccan textiles,  will be the guest speaker.  For complete information about the meeting (the public is welcome),  visit the Guild’s website,  here,  and to read more about Susan S.  Davis and about her work with Moroccan women rug weavers,  visit her website,  here.

One of the reasons that I love writing my blog is that it leads me to look closely at textiles that I have lived with,  and taken for granted,  for years,  so that I can write about them.  Knotted pile,  for example, is a technique that I tried once and discarded because it wasn’t practical for production weaving (the result was the vegetable-dyed pillow to the right of Bobby in the photo below).

Bobby and my only knotted pile project

However,  examining the wedding blanket has reawakened my interest in the pile weaves,  and I’m excited about where the concept may take me.  Don’t look for shaggy scarves at Saks any time soon, though.

Update:  To see three more Berber wedding blanket capes,  see  Susan S. Davis’s photo on my gallery page (click on the thumbnail to enlarge the image).

Orange/grey herringbone stripe

This season’s shameless commerce post:  Above and below are photos of the seven-piece 2009 men’s scarf collection that I designed exclusively for Saks Fifth Avenue.  The collection is made up of a new rib weave in three rich solid colors,  and updated color combinations of my herringbone  stripe and pinstripe designs (click on the images to enlarge).

All scarves  are 100% plush rayon chenille and cost $195.00.  My designs are individually handwoven in the USA,  so the quality is impeccable,  and their carbon footprint is teensy-weensy.  Each scarf is 9″ wide x 72″ long — my most popular size for both men and women — plus a short cut fringe (see photo at top of post).

My collection is available,  under the Fern Devlin label,  in the men’s scarf department,  at these Saks Fifth Avenue stores:

Beachwood,  OH

Chevy Chase,  MD

Chicago,  IL

Hackensack,  NJ

Las Vegas,  NV

New Orleans,  LA

New York,  NY

The weather has turned autumnal and the stock market is up,  so please support domestic American handweavers  (and at least one American designer) and buy my scarves.  They will warm your soul as well as your neck — really.  And you’ll look good in them,  too.

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3-D ribbon weaving by Sally Shore

I recently received an announcement of an upcoming group art show,  and was pleased to recognize ribbon weaver Sally Shore’s name on the exhibitors’ list.  In 2007,  she was a guest speaker at a NY Guild of Handweavers meeting and gave a dazzling presentation of her work.

By interlacing ribbons using “triaxial weaving” (three structural elements instead of weaving’s usual warp and weft),  Ms. Shore produces fabrics with astonishing effects (like the three-dimensional piece above) and turns them into bags,  baskets (see photo below),  clothing,  and artwork.  To get a better idea of her creative scope, visit her website.

Soft basket by Sally Shore

Triaxial weaving is a Malaysian basketweave technique that is also called “mad weave,” and The Mad Weave Book, by Shereen LaPlantz, is available here,  if you want to find out more about it.  In her talk,  Sally Shore mentioned that the book that got her started was Weaving with Ribbon by Valerie Campbell-Harding.  That book doesn’t cover triaxial weaving,  but Sally Shore’s A Ribbon Weaver’s Handbook undoubtedly does.

In the group art show, which starts October 13 at the Broome Street Gallery in Soho, work by approximately thirty members of Artist-Craftsmen of New York will be on view.  The members work in several media besides fiber,  including photography and ceramics.  For more information about the show, and about Artist-Craftsmen of New York, visit their website.

French quilt fragment

This week’s weave (shown above) is a mounted fragment of an early 18th century child’s quilt from southern France that was given to me by one of my nieces, who has fabulous taste (doubtless genetic).  Even before I knew anything else about the piece,  its quiet charm won me over.

The piece is made of homespun and handwoven linen.  I did some research into blue dyes in Paul Rodier’s book The Romance of French Weaving, and although the soft blue color could have come from indigo — which was being imported into France well before the 18th century (from “Bagdad”) — I think that it probably came from “the powder made from the leaves of the [woad] plant which grew — which still grows [1936] -- around the Mediterranean and as far north as England.  We call it pastel, because during the Middle Ages it was always solid in little patties (pâtés).”  Sharon Mrozinski,  owner of The Marston House,  whence my textile came, e-mails, “The pastel is still grown and can be purchased in powder form in little sacks.”

The quilt’s white flowers were woven using a supplementary warp weave, with the tabby areas sett at 50 x 50.  It seems to have been woven on a multi-harness shaft loom,  because under magnification the flower design looks as if it uses approximately 16 harnesses, and many treadles.  The white warp ends almost stood out well enough on the blue ground (see detail) for me to be able to analyze the weave,  but there was no way to do that without taking the fabric apart,  and even then, the quilting — and the fabric’s frailty — would have made analysis difficult.

Quilt flower detail

The Marston House is a store that specializes in French antiques,  textile and otherwise.  It’s lucky for my budget that it’s located in Wiscasset, Maine, but they have a lovely website with an attractive, impressive display of tantalizing textiles.

I rarely repeat the subjects of my “weave of the week” articles, because my aim is to make them as different from each other as possible,  and yet,  here I am writing about woven flowers,  natural dyes,  and France in the Middle Ages,  only a week after writing about those same subjects in the context of an article about the Cloisters.  I doubt that it’s only because of free association;  more likely  it’s because I’m just not ready to re-enter the 21st century yet.