Loom — where it appears
Named by 12 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The shed is an extension
Every model of a finished cloth treats a thread as inextensible, and every one of them is about a fabric that has left the loom. On the loom the warp is stretched thousands of times a minute by the shed itself, and the amount is exact trigonometry with nothing fitted in it: the square of the shed's tangent, times the shaft's own distance from the fell, over twice what is left behind it.
The back shaft works hardest
How hard the loom is on a warp end is the product of two numbers from different worlds — how often its column changes sides, which is a property of a binary matrix with no millimetre in it, and the strain of the shaft it happens to be on, which is a property of a machine with no weave in it. Neither knows about the other, and the threading that joins them is a decision nobody makes on structural grounds.
A figure is harder on its warp
Every basic weave flexes all its ends exactly as often as each other — plain, twill, satin and sateen alike, and it is a one-line theorem. Figure one of them on another and that evenness goes, or does not, depending on where the ground weave was started relative to the figure. The same invisible offset that decides whether a fine figure holds together decides, at a coarse one, how unevenly the loom works the warp.
The reed is not the sett
A reed holds the warp at a pitch, and the cloth that leaves it is narrower — by exactly the weft's crimp, with nothing fitted and nothing approximated. On a close balanced sheeting that is 12.75 per cent, on an open scrim 1.87, and a weaver who allowed one figure for both would be wrong by a factor of nearly seven.
Where the heddles go
A draft says how many shafts it needs and says nothing about how the ends divide between them. On a satin stripe over a plain ground the two ground shafts carry twenty times what the stripe shafts do — and the only cure is to spend shafts, which turns the threading into an allocation problem with an exact answer.
The setts a loom can reach
Transposing a draft gives a perfectly good draft, and every count this site takes off a matrix either is symmetric under exchanging warp and weft or has a mirror twin. The loom is not symmetric at all: over the range ordinary cloth is woven in, it can choose a pick density 99 times more finely than a warp sett — and the warp sett cannot be changed once the warp is drawn in, at any granularity whatever.
What the shed costs, in newtons
The shed's strain has been computed here and could not be priced: a strain is a length over a length and says nothing about how hard a thread is being pulled. A modulus turns it into a tension — and the back shaft of a twenty-four-shaft harness turns out to hold its ends at half their breaking load, all day, from the geometry alone.
The blow that sets the pick
The take-up gear decides how far the cloth moves between picks and says nothing about the blow that puts each pick where it goes. That blow is a force, and a virtual-work argument gives it in one line — with the length of the beat-up zone cancelling out of the answer exactly, which is the part worth having.
The harness has a depth
Why does a dobby carry sixteen or twenty-four shafts rather than two hundred? The usual answers are about the mechanism — how many jacks a box can drive, how many hooks a dobby has — and they are real limits that are not the binding one. A stated tolerance on warp strain is a stated distance from the fell, and a stated distance is a whole number of shafts. One per cent buys thirteen.
A pick density is a force budget
The take-up ladder counted what a change-wheel take-up can select: 4,825 distinct pick densities between eight and forty threads per centimetre, against forty-nine warp setts a reed catalogue offers over the same range. That count assumed every setting is available. A beat-up force says otherwise, and cuts the top off the range without touching the fineness of the choice.
A jacquard harness needs three half-spans of height
A jacquard has no front shaft and no back one, so every end takes the same shed — as long as every cord hangs straight. Across the width they cannot: the hooks sit in a machine a few tens of centimetres wide and the comber board is as wide as the cloth, so an edge cord leans and its mail rises by the difference of two hypotenuses rather than by the hook's lift. Holding the edge shed within five per cent of the centre's takes a fall of about three times the edge cord's sideways reach, and that is a height a room has to have.
A jacquard's harness has a depth after all
A jacquard was said to escape the shaft loom's depth entirely, because every mail hangs at the same distance from the fell. Every mail does, if the comber board has one row of holes — and it cannot. At sixty ends a centimetre the ends are a sixth of a millimetre apart and a cord with a mail on it wants most of one, so the holes are ruled in six rows thirty millimetres deep. The escape is real and it is a factor of eight rather than a release, and it closes as the cloth is set finer.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
ShedHarnessReedWarp strainSettHeddleJacquardThreadingContractionShaftSpecificationTake-up