A sensational yarn

I’ve been working on background footage for the next tutorial video. These videos always take a while to create, so I film them in chunks. I didn’t do any filming today, but the recent samples I’ve spun has gotten me thinking about the sensory aspect of handspun yarns.

I bought some raw Shetland from a hobby shepherd about two years ago. It was hand sheared and the owner wasn’t sure how to do it, nor did he know what a spinner would want to see. It was only a partial fleece, about 8 ounces, but figured it would be good for a future Fiber Talk episode (I’ve been avoiding talking about Shetland). I could always use some wool for carding rolags—I still struggle to make quality rolags for longdraw—and spinning with my supported spindle. I decided on the method of underspinning the singles and overplying the yarn, which becomes a rounded 2-ply instead of one that is rectangular in cross section. I didn’t have a plan for the finished project. My partner needed a new hat so I thought it would be good to experiment with dyeing Shetland and knitting with it. All these experiences have turned out very useful to my Fiber Talk video, but I wanted to take a slightly different angle in this blog.

Undyed Shetland 2-ply in skein form.

Sensory archaeology is a relatively newish area of study, and its relevance to textile studies has mainly been pioneered through the works of (Dr.) Susanna Harris. You can read a brief summary of an experiment Harris did in this article I wrote. White yarn can be a boring color so I thought, “why not overdye my handspun?” Great idea in theory, but I was nervous to commit to it. Despite being a professional dyer with more than a decade of experience, why was I suddenly really hesitant to overdye it? Part of this comes from the reality that I made this from a raw fleece. There were several stages of processing and spinning/plying. The other part comes from the uniqueness of the yarn. I had a limited supply and couldn’t just remake the yarn if I dyed it poorly. Sure, I could buy more Shetland, and I have, but it isn’t the same.

This led to me reflect on the sensory aspect of making handspun yarn and how the characteristics of individual animals can be carried forward into the yarn. It isn’t simply keeping the lock structure so the handspun resembles the sheep it came from; it’s about observing the qualities of the wool and selecting the fiber prep and spinning method to foreground important features present in the fleece initially. These can also be motivated by very personal reasons, not just to pick ‘the right way’ to spin a specific breed (<—spin yarn how you like it!).

I’ve prepared Shetland in two different ways, and I’ve spun and plied it in different ways. I think the resulting yarns have pulled out different aspects of the original fleece, despite not having this intention when I originally started with these samples. Where am I going with this discussion?

Innately, advanced spinners can detect minor nuances in fleece characteristics and select methods of washing/preparing/ spinning/plying that the wool would be well suited for. I don’t think about this consciously anymore, but I do remember my early years when I washed/prepared/spun/plied in the exact same way, regardless of the wool I started with. How a finished textile looks, feels, drapes, and moves, are all influenced by the way wool is washed, prepared, spun, (and plied), and woven/knitted/etc. A sweater can feel warm or cool, snug/cozy or drapey, smooth or fluffy, lightweight or heavy. These adjectives are useful descriptors that convey the sensory aspect of a sweater, but also hint at the way they might have been constructed, from start to finish. A warm, snug, fluffy, lightweight sweater may be spun with a bouncy wool that has been carded into rolags, spun with longdraw/supported spindle, plied(possibly), and knitted with a pattern/needle set that encourages the yarn to fill in gaps after washing. Using the same wool, you could argue that a cool, drapey, smooth, and heavy sweater could also be produced. The elements that change are the preparation methods (combing or making batts), spinning (short forward/worsted/semi-worsted, etc.), plying (high twist singles, high twist ply), with a dense cable knit pattern. Without seeing this sweater, I know that your mind’s eye can see our hypothetical sweater.

Close up of the stitches in the hat I made for my partner. Note the cables and fluffy texture of the yarn.

Going back to my earlier hesitation to dye this handspun Shetland, I didn’t have the sensory experience of how Shetland dyed, how a supported spindle spun 2-ply would look dyed, how the cabled pattern would look with a fluffy yarn, or how snug the finished hat would be. The blue yarn was carded into rolags and spun with a supported spindle with a low twist, then plied from a center-pull ball with more twist than was needed (see the brownish/white 2-ply for an undyed comparison to the white yarn). The second, white, yarn was carded into a batt and spun with my Kromski Minstrel wheel with a medium twist, then chain-plied into a 3-ply yarn.

This 2-ply was spun with the same method as the blue yarn I used in the hat.

This 3-ply was Shetland spun from a batt with a semi-worsted method, then chained into a 3-ply yarn.

As you may note from the photos, they look completely different. The supported spun yarn is very puffy and looks squishable. It will retain a lot of heat and maintain its snugness—very important for a hat to be pleasantly snug. The wheel spun yarn is smoother, slightly denser. The weak tips of some locks that got carded into the batt are now made very visible because I opted for a higher twist. It looks sturdier, more abrasion resistant, than the blue yarn. I haven’t knitted up a sample with the white yarn yet, but I would venture a guess and say that it would produce a defined stitch.

Okay cool, but so what? How does this revelation impact my approach to spinning? First, it helps me understand what a handspun yarn might be good for. I have a tendency to make yarn without an end purpose and then I don’t know what to do with it. Second, I can guide my choice of fiber prep and spinning methods to make yarn suited for specific types of projects. If I want a drapey cardigan, I may select a semi-worsted 3-ply in a wool/silk blend that gives me the best combination of bounce and drape. Last, I can throw caution to the wind and use handspun for patterns not suited to it. For example, lace patterns look best with smooth yarns that have nice drape. However, you could use a soft fluffy yarn for that pattern and use larger needles than are recommended. Sure, you may need to make adjustments for the size of the finished piece and the yardage consumed, but the end result may surprise you.

My partner wearing the hat. This is hand dyed Shetland 2-ply that was overplied in the single to produce a more rounded 2-ply yarn.

Now that I’ve overcome my fear of dyeing my handspun Shetland, I will be doing this method again in the future. I have obtained a sensory experience with this approach that will help me customize the base handspun yarn for the purpose I intend, and which dyeing methods to use to accentuate the pattern/finished product. If this whole process seems mad to you, it kind of is, but I can guarantee you there is no commercial company out there making an overplied 2-ply Shetland that is ready to dye. As the creator/designer of your yarns, this will give you a new outlook on the options you have available for your unique handspun.