MART-701 Lessons

It was a rather chilly day at Hogwarts. Students were huddled in their house-colored scarves as they rushed their way to class through the snow. There had been a sudden drop in temperature, and no one in the castle seemed to have predicted the wintery weather – aside from Peeves, but of course, no one took him seriously. As the Seventh Years returned from Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, the rush of warm air as they opened the castle doors ushered them in quickly. While most split off to return to their common rooms, the Magical Art students continued their way up the Grand Staircase to the fifth floor. Upon entering the classroom, the students were greeted by the sight of warm woven blankets draped over their chairs, with Professor Rosenquist placing the last of them on the chair in the back corner of the classroom. She gave them a smile and beckoned them to take their seats as she walked back to the front. With a wave of her wand, mugs of hot chocolate flew off of a rather large drink tray on her desk and gently floated over to each student’s desk. More and more students trickled in, pleasantly surprised to not only find a cup of hot chocolate at their desks, but that they get to huddle in blankets during class on this cold day. After the last few took their seats, Professor Rosenquist cleared her throat and addressed the class.

I see that you all are quite chilly, and considering that we do have a number of windows in here, I thought it would be best to keep you all warm and comfortable while we have our lesson today. Be sure to thank our kitchen elves for all the hot chocolate if you do run into any of them. The blankets, on the other hand, are courtesy of the Welsh Workforce of Wizarding Weavers, a nonprofit group that donated their magical textiles to our school. If you would like to learn how warm blankets like these are made, then you’re in luck! Our topic today is weaving. Warm up, and let’s get started!

In the world of fabric production, weaving is the method of interlacing some sort of fiber, such as yarn or thread, at a right angle to form cloth. Essentially, there are vertical rows of thread called the warp, which are set into place before the weft, or the horizontal thread being interlaced, is introduced. The warp holds the tension in the fabric while you create designs with the weft. Typically, most people imagine weaving patterns mainly over and under the warp. While that is indeed a method of weaving, there are so many more ways to weave, as you can see below.

Here are the three main weaves: the plain weave, the satin weave, and the twill weave. The plain weave (also known as the tabby, linen, or taffeta weave) is the most basic type of weave, and it’s known for its durability. This is our “over and under” pattern where the weft is fed over the warp, under the next, and repeat. The next row alternates, which essentially just means that if the weft went over the warp on the row above, it now goes under that warp on the current row. Think of it as a criss-cross or checkerboard pattern! This weave is typically found in fabrics used for clothes and furniture that require the strength and durability this weave pattern is known for.

The satin weave, as you can see, isn’t quite as interlocked as a plain weave. This weave is categorized by having four or more weft yarns “floating” over a warp yarn or vice versa. This produces an effect in the fabric where one side gives off a glossy sheen while the back remains dull because light does not scatter as much when it hits the fibers. Most satin weaves are “warp-faced,” which is when the warp yarns are floated over the weft, but “weft-faced” weaves do exist, which are the opposite. You will typically see this more delicate weave pattern in bed sheets, upholstery, undergarments, pajamas, shirts, and even your uniform ties.

Lastly, the twill weave is a pattern that creates sort of a diagonal appearance. The weft is threaded over one or more warp threads, then under two or more warp threads, and so on. Adding the warp threads to every pass offsets the pattern to create the diagonal. As you can see in the picture above, there’s more than one way to create a twill weave. Twill weave patterns are categorized by numbers. So, for example, a 2/1 weave means that there are two warp threads over one weft thread and then one weft thread over two warp threads. In the 2/2 pattern above, you can see how there are two warp threads passed over two weft threads and how each one is offset so that a diagonal appears. This particular weave drapes very well due to how the threads are passed, and stains are less apparent on twills, which is why these are common in work clothes, durable upholstery, and denim.

As you may have gathered, weaving would be extremely difficult without some type of structure holding down the warp threads as you thread the weft through them; having multiple people holding down both sides of threads closely placed together while you attempt to weave a separate thread through is not very feasible. This led to the invention of the loom, which is a structure to hold your warp threads in place and create the tension that’s necessary for weaving. There are many different forms of looms, all using various methods; like most tools in art, we would be here all day if I were to explain every single type of loom. With that in mind, we’ll go over the main parts of a loom and touch on just a few that are relevant to the discussion.

In the process of weaving, the weaver typically needs to lift or lower the warp threads to form an opening, which is known as a shed. Rather than pulling the weft through the shed by hand, a tool called a shuttle pushes the weft thread. Each passage through the shed is called a pick. All looms have some way to create sheds. Of course,  this statement does not include the most basic looms, like the frame loom, which is quite literally a frame (or harness) of wood. That being said, you can create a shed in a frame loom by threading a shed stick through the warp threads and turning the stick on its side to create the gap. But as far as built-in shedding methods go, the heddle is the most integral part of the loom that makes shedding possible. Heddles can come in various forms (such as: a rotating stick with grooves, or wires and strings that pull on the warp), but primarily, the warp thread is threaded through the heddle, giving the heddle the ability to move the threads as the weaver is using the loom. 

In simpler looms, like the inkle loom (which is used for weaving narrow fabric strips), the shed is created by the weaver manually moving the heddles up and down. On the other hand, multi-shaft looms (looms with multiple harnesses) have treadles, or levers, to raise or lower their harnesses, and the heddles on the harnesses go up or down to make a shed. Or, if we’re talking about enchanted looms, there are some charmed to detect when a pick has been completed, and they will change which warp threads are raised and lowered on their own. Some enchanted looms are charmed to have certain activation phrases that let the loom “know” what type of weave pattern you are using, and they’re able to automatically create the appropriate shed on each pass. There are even more advanced enchanted looms that can weave the thread for you, though, of course, this can get pretty difficult to use if you are implementing a complicated design.

Another important part of the weaving process is placing a pick on the loom, which is more commonly referred to as beating. When a weaver changes the shed after completing a pick, they place the pick by using a part of the loom known as a beater. The beater holds a tool called a reed, which looks similar to a large comb. This is the tool that the weaver uses to place the weft where it’s supposed to go and make sure there are no gaps in the fabric. The reed also provides the horizontal spacing of the threads so that the fabric isn’t uneven. The rigid heddle is a great example of a loom that contains tools like the reed, beater, and heddles. Looms like the inkle and backstrap actually don’t have a reed or beater built in; rather, the weaver uses the edge of the shuttle or a weaving fork to beat the fabric. Enchanted looms may or may not have these tools physically built-in, but beating functions are included with pretty much any enchanted loom. Some enchanted looms have a reed that automatically pushes down the thread when it detects that the weft has made a full pass through the warp. Others don’t have a reed built in but are charmed to push the thread down with magic, though it has to be activated. This can be achieved either by a specific incantation, a wave of the wand, or tapping the loom with the wand; it all depends on the particular loom and how it was enchanted.

Looms have come a long way from being simple frames and that's all thanks to clothing production facilitating the need for this advancement in technology. Now, it may come as no surprise that clothing production has been around since ancient times. The first evidence of spinning – the process of creating thread from raw fibers such as wool or linen – was an archaeological find from Neanderthal society that dates back to between 41,000 and 52,000 years ago. Meanwhile, woven cloth can be traced back to 7000 B.C.E., with some archaeologists believing it may have existed even further back. All great civilizations in the ancient world developed some form of weaving with no clear relation or line of causality. Indigenous people in the Andes mountains of South America have been spinning thread from alpaca and llama wool since 4000 B.C.E. This eventually led to the Inca Empire’s production of gorgeous textiles made with backstrap looms and vertical frame looms. Over in China, they were producing silk fabrics spun from the fibers of silkworm cocoons as far back as 3500 B.C.E. Silk production was an incredible discovery at the time as silk absorbed dye better than other fabrics (such as wool, which had a tendency to felt), and its texture and luster quickly led to it becoming an item of luxury in Chinese society. It was such a luxury that the details of its production was a national secret kept by the emperors of China. It wasn’t until the opening of the Silk Road in 114 B.C.E. that the rest of the world eventually learned how to make silk. That’s over two thousand years! The booming silk industry in China eventually led to the creation of the pit-heddle loom, which was the first loom to add pedals to operate the heddles (though some say this loom originated in India). This addition of pedals was huge because weavers could now operate the heddles with their feet while their hands were occupied with passing the shuttle. The pit-heddle loom was modified over time and eventually evolved into the standard horizontal loom that was used in Medieval Europe.

While early enchanted looms existed before the Medieval period, the enchanted loom as we know it started to develop in Medieval Europe. Prior to its creation, wizardfolk tried to speed up the weaving process by having their wand perform one function such as passing the shuttle through the warp while they moved a shed stick around the loom, or vice versa! This unfortunately got a little complicated, especially with maintaining enough concentration to keep the spells going. Much like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time, the slightest loss of focus can mess you up. Plus there were times when both hands were needed and the wand had to be set down. Needless to say, it was almost easier to just weave the cloth the non-magical way. The addition of pedals to move the loom’s heddles was a great innovation, even for wizardkind! The ease of having more features on the loom inspired some wizards to create enchanted versions. Early versions of the enchanted loom were made from magical wood in hopes that the material of the loom itself would be able to hold the enchantments better. Magical weavers in northern Europe, typically in Scandinavia and Scotland, were known to imbue their looms with Futhark runes. While the runes helped the weaver achieve certain effects on the final result of the fabric, they did not improve the process of weaving itself.

Decades passed with unsuccessful attempts to create a fully autonomous enchanted loom. It wasn’t until 1781 that an Austrian witch by the name of Felizia Teresa Waldstein managed to get her tapestry loom to weave with multiple shuttles at once using only her wand. Waldstein was actually a symphony conductor and a rather established violinist in the Austrian classical music scene. She was known to have worked with famous composers such as Haydn and Mozart, as well as had a lifelong friendship with Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf. Waldstein was a novice in the art of tapestry weaving when she made her discovery. She kept her loom on her balcony as nature tended to inspire her artistically. While experimenting with moving the shuttles by wand one night, a string quartet was practicing down the street in a nearby courtyard. Recognizing the piece as chamber music she had in her repertoire, Waldstein got lost in the music and forgot that she was holding her wand instead of a conductor’s baton. She started conducting her shuttles around as if she was conducting music, and all of the different shuttles came to life along the warp, moving back and forth, creating sheds to the beat of the music. By the time Waldstein realized what she was doing, her tapestry was almost done. This gave her the idea that perhaps looms could be treated the same as charmed instruments. The following morning, she acquired a loom with pedals to control the heddles. She attempted to emulate the spell that she created during that fateful night and combine it with several variations of instrument charms. Months of trial and error passed. Eventually, Waldstein succeeded by realizing the correct approach was to treat the loom as if she was charming a pipe organ. The first enchanted loom that was able to thread the shuttles, weave through the warp, and accurately control the pedals was born.

Soon after the creation and eventual mass production of the enchanted loom, the enchanted spinning wheel followed. Around the late 1800s, spinning fur and hair from magical creatures into fabrics took off. To name a few examples: Demiguise pelts were sought after to make invisibility cloaks; clothing made from leucrotta fur was not only warm, but it had powers similar to simple defensive spells; and there’s reports that on occasion Puffskein owners would make clothing out of the excess hair when fur growth got too excessive. While this was certainly innovative in wizard fashion, it caused poaching problems for some of the creatures, particularly the Demiguise. While the collection of tradeable materials from magical creatures is more monitored and regulated now, weavers still spin and weave magical creature byproducts into clothing today. Pretty common materials that I’ve seen used include feathers from birds such as Jobberknolls and Fwoopers; fur from Nifflers, Kneazles, and Mooncalves; and even hair from horse-like creatures such as Thestrals, Abraxans, and unicorns. 

Some magical weavers will even brew potions that contain ground ingredients from magical creatures like Graphorn horns or magical plants like Alihotsy leaves. The thread is then soaked in these potions for several hours, depending on the particular potion, and then left to dry before being used for weaving. 

However, the most common way that I have seen woven fabric given magical properties is through spells. Much like painting, fabric can be charmed either during the weaving process or after it is fully finished, depending on the complexity of the spells used. For example, a cloak that changes colors in the sunlight can be charmed after it is woven, whereas a tapestry in which the subjects are moving and making sounds and the tapestry itself rolls up when the bottom third tassel from the left is tugged may require spellwork during the weaving process. I personally find charming woven fabrics easier than paintings due to the fact that enchanted looms leave your hands free during spellcasting – and it’s less messy overall.

Before we take off, there is a charm that is quite useful regardless of whether you are weaving your clothes or buying them. It’s called the Perfect Fit Charm. This charm can adjust the size of your clothing up or down to perfectly fit the wearer.

Name: Perfect Fit Charm
Incantation: Constitchuo (cuhn-STEE-choo-oh)
Wand Movement: Starting from the top of the garment, circle your wand clockwise around the entire article of clothing you wish to adjust. When you return to your starting point, pull the wand back towards yourself fast, almost as if you are tugging on a thread.
Willpower: Low; Adding more willpower will hasten the spell but will also be more prone to backfire.
Concentration: Moderate-High; Focus on what exactly needs to be adjusted. Is the garment too big? Is the garment too small? Are the shoulder seams further down the arm rather than at the shoulders? The more complex the garment, the more you need to concentrate.

This charm is commonly used in the wizarding fashion industry and can get rid of a fit faux pas quickly. Plus, if you are into making your own clothing, this spell will help to fix any mishaps that may happen with sewing patterns or measurements. Take care when casting this spell, as a potential backfire of the charm is that it can have the opposite effect of what was intended. For instance, if the clothing needed to shrink to fit the wearer, it could grow exponentially instead. You should also not wear the clothes while casting this spell on them unless you’d like a swift trip to St. Mungo’s.

On that note, we will end today’s lesson and follow it up with a mini field trip around the castle. This is a tapestry tour of a few of our gorgeous wall hangings that adorn the castle walls. This tour will be relatively brief compared to our portrait tour from last year, simply because we have less art to visit. Before we leave, I will also inform you that you have a quiz on today’s content due later and an essay to complete for extra credit. Feel free to bring your hot chocolate and blankets with you on the tour, or you may leave them at your desk. 

Our first stop: the dungeons!

Lesson written by Professor Serafina Rosenquist