Contact pressure — where it appears
Named by 13 essays across 5 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
How much of a cloth is touching
Press a fabric against a flat plate with the weight of a hand and ask what fraction of it is actually in contact. The bearing curve answers, and the answer is about four per cent — of which the great majority is not the cloth's surface at all, but the hairs standing off it, which nothing in this arithmetic can see.
A thickness gauge reads the draft
A presser foot does not stop at the top of a cloth. It sinks until the area it is touching can carry the load, and how far that is depends on the shape of the bearing curve near the top — which is a property of the weave. So there is a weave term inside a measurement nobody thinks of as a weave measurement, and it is worth about one per cent.
A pile is the only surface with no crowns
Every other fabric touches on the tops of curved threads, so its contact vanishes as the load goes to zero and the pressure on what is touching rises without limit. A cut pile touches on flat ends left in one plane by a blade — so its contact is finite at no load at all, its pressure concentration is bounded, and it is the only fabric whose abrasion mass loss is an honest measure of its damage.
A light touch never reaches the crowns
This collection found that a plain weave touches at points and every other cloth touches along lines, and that the difference is an exponent rather than a factor. It is a real result about a real surface, and at the pressures a fabric is actually touched at, nothing ever reaches that surface.
What a thickness gauge reads on a knit
The structure says two yarn diameters and the gauge says more, and the gap is not an error in either. A gauge lands on the highest crowns, through a canopy of protruding fibre, under a load that has already begun to compress both — and it does that on a surface that is nothing but crowns.
Every fabric's thread lies in a plane
A woven thread's crimp wave lies in a plane at right angles to the cloth. A knitted loop lies in a plane twelve degrees off it. Both halves of this collection turn out to be one picture with one angle in it, and the angle decides how much of a fabric's contact force acts through its thickness.
A cloth compresses along its own bearing curve
A fabric's pressure–thickness curve is always fitted with an empirical power law and the exponent is reported without explanation. It is not empirical. At light loads it is two thirds for any weave carrying a float and one half for a weave carrying none, and the two numbers come out of one line of algebra with nothing fitted in it.
A rib is quietest at two diameters
Open the beds of a rib and everything about it should get stronger. It does not. The through-thickness force falls to a minimum at a bed gap of exactly two yarn diameters and rises on both sides of it, because a crossing's climb and an interlacing's own climb cancel there.
A compression curve is two laws in series
A published fabric compression exponent is a fitted number with no derivation attached, and this site has already said why: the range it is fitted over straddles two regimes. One of them turns out not to be in the cloth at all.
What a cuff presses with
A rib cuff holds a sleeve on a wrist, so it must be pressing. Divide its own recovery force by the radius it is wrapped round and the pressure comes out at eight tenths of a millimetre of mercury — a fiftieth of the lightest medical compression, and two orders below what the same fabric resists being squashed with.
The force that holds a knit open
Resolving a knitted loop's contact force out of the fabric's plane leaves a fifth of it pointing through the thickness. That fifth is 7.8 millinewtons a stitch, fifteen kilopascals over the area a stitch occupies, and it is the whole reason a jersey has a thickness rather than a plan.
A tube of one size presses the calf harder than the ankle
A band presses a limb with its tension over the limb's radius, so it is easy to conclude that a band grips hardest where the limb is thinnest. That is true of a band held at one tension, and no knitted tube is. A tube knitted to one size is stretched further wherever the leg is thicker, and its tension rises faster than the radius does: an elastic tube pressing an ankle at twenty millimetres of mercury presses the calf at thirty-nine, and a cotton jersey tube presses its calf three and a half times as hard as its ankle. A stocking graduated the other way has to pull hardest where it presses less.
What a knit gives up when it is pressed
The woven half of this collection has had a compression curve for several rungs — a thickness that falls under load, a bearing area that grows, a pressure at every point. The knitted half had a plan and no depth. It has a relaxed thickness and an initial slope now, and the two fabrics turn out to resist for different reasons.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Cloth thicknessBearing curveContact forceLoopReal contact areaCompression energyElasticaSpecificationCrown heightCrown lineTwo-bedBuckling load