Making Iron Age Yarn
In my last public post about this experimental project, I described a desire to explore the upper boundary of what yarns we could make and focused on the heavy whorls from Danebury hillfort. Though this assemblage had lighter whorls that you might find in most pre-industrial whorl assemblages, and indeed among modern spinners, it also had some really, really heavy whorls—230g, actually. What I wanted to cover in this post was my process for solidifying the experimental design after having won the research grant.
Figuring out how to get an experiment underway can present a variety of challenges. Even after I had confirmation that my proposal was accepted and the award given, I still needed to decide which materials I was going to use for the whorls, spindle sticks, wool, and how I would record and analyse as I went through the project. I wrote a blog post for EXARC which explains my methodology for honing in on exactly what I was going to do. This includes balancing a literature review and ideas with budget and timeline constraints, ways of recording data and embedding meta data (if needed), and unifying the results so the outcomes would be useful. Experimental archaeology should extend beyond sating curiosity, it has a fundamental place in a rigorous academic sphere. The link to EXARC will take you to my post where I explain how the design process develops, as there is rarely an obvious pathway to creating the experiment.
Chalk spindle whorl based on SF1935 from Danebury hillfort (26g)
Chalk spindle whorl based on SF1986 from Danebury hillfort (90g)
Crucially, I wanted to develop referential resources for other researchers and specialists to use whenever they find objects where there is disagreement on whether or not they are spindle whorls. And to advance that point, I wanted a method to foreground the importance of a spinner in how a yarn is spun. There is a lot of expertise there, but is otherwise unspoken in academia.
In this update, I wanted to show off the two chalk spindle whorls I have made for the Spindling for Weaving project so far (I need to make the 230g whorl eventually—apologies, my mom visit came first!). Chalk is an easy to carve material and is a predominant geology in southern Britain (although there are pockets of chalk in Yorkshire too). Two of my experimental whorls are very finely made, especially when contrasted with drawings of the originals from Iron Age Britain. Finely made or not, it’s the moment of inertia and rotational symmetry (I’ll talk about these concepts in a later post) which are important for this experiment. They should behave similarly, so I’m pleased with the outcome.
Broken chalk whorl based on SF1935, incomplete (broken across perforation)
Incomplete counter drilling of perforation. Note dark flecks which are likely impurities in the chalk (possibly limestone)
As you can also see, there was a little accident in making of the whorls. This was caused by imperfections in the chalk, probably due to there being limestone. What I love about science is when you hope something happens and it does! The original piece of chalk showed no obvious signs of being comprised of a random patch of limestone, so I only knew something was odd when I got halfway into the initial shaping of the whorl.
I have some video of this, and I’ll share it when I edit the clips together. This subtle change in material hardness has an impact on the friability potential. If it is all one material, we can use certain characteristics of the material to predict how it’ll fracture. Crystals, for example, will split into…smaller crystals, or otherwise shatter. If you time this right, you can start with a blobby rock and end up with a beautifully cut diamond. With chalk, it shaves off into a powdery material. Limestone can’t necessarily be scraped with a fingernail like chalk can. This change in material hardness means that carving a flat surface is impossible since every pass of a blade will shave off more chalk than limestone infused chalk.
When creating the perforation, the presence of variable hardness could make the perforation difficult to form. I found this out in the best way possible: when counter drilling the perforation, I was inadvertently drilling through a patch of the limestone. At about 95% completion, the whole whorl broke in half! This is amazing, for two reasons. First, it could explain why some whorls in the archaeological record have broken in half. Second, it may be why some whorls were abandoned before the perforation was completed. This is an interesting observation because it could indicate an astute understanding of the materials used for whorls and a realisation that a whorl won’t turn out as expected because there’s a hidden fault in the chalk.
We develop this understanding whenever we work with materials, processes, etc. We get a good sense of what a wool will be like for spinning before it has been washed. We know whether a cantaloupe is ready to eat and sweet. There is an implicit understanding of these examples, which we rarely think about, but impact whether we tidy a fleece before we spin it, or simply toss it into the compost heap. If we need cantaloupe for a summer side dish tonight, there’s no point in buying the unripe one because we know it’ll be firm and tart.
Though this seems like an obvious assumption, scholars can sometimes overlook such mundane observations when assessing artefacts. I had assumed that abandoned whorls weren’t simply unfinished, they were unviable. It’s an important distinction and because I experienced this personally, I can show with evidence how this might be recognised in the archaeological assemblage.
I’ll be back with another update on this project soon. I hope you have found it useful! If you’d like to make contributions to the research, stay tuned to my social media. You can also support me on Patreon and receive updates on this experiment first—and get other perks like behind the scenes, mini essays, and ad-free viewings of YouTube videos.