Loop — where it appears
Named by 35 essays across 6 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The loop
A knit is one thread bent into loops, each drawn through the loop below. Nothing in it is straight, which is why it stretches in every direction while a woven cloth stretches only at an angle.
Terry needs two beams
A towel's pile is not woven longer. It is fed longer — from a second warp beam let off several times faster than the first — so the loop height follows from a ratio and a pick spacing, and the float length that decides a corduroy does not appear in it anywhere.
What stops a knit extending
A knitted loop's bending energy does not change as the fabric extends — exactly, over the whole range its geometry admits. Something resists, and it is not stiffness. It is friction at the interlocks, which is dissipative rather than elastic, and that single fact accounts for why a knit does not spring back, why a softener changes its dimensions and why the constants its size is quoted with contain no yarn property at all.
A jersey leans because its yarn still turns
A single-jersey T-shirt comes back from the wash with its side seam spiralling round the body, and a rib does not. The difference is not the yarn: it is a count. Loops on opposite beds are mirror images, so their torques oppose, and a fabric that knits equally on both nets to zero whatever the yarn is doing.
A jersey has two surfaces
The face of a plain knit shows the legs of its loops, which run along the wale; the back shows the heads and feet, which run across it. So the two faces carry their crowns at right angles — the same situation as a damask's figure and its ground, in a fabric with no warp, no weft and no float.
A loop is nine tenths free run
Half the yarn in a knitted stitch is slack — the straight line between two interlacings is a little over half the thread available to span it. That is two orders of magnitude more room than a woven thread has, and it is why a knitted loop is a shape that can be solved rather than a shape that has to be constructed.
A rib climbs a gap
A jersey's yarn crosses one diameter between interlacings because that is what a crossing of two threads is. A rib's crosses the whole distance between the two beds. Nothing else in the model changes, and that one length is the whole mechanical difference between the fabrics.
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 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.
The closest approach is not the crossing
Two wavy curves that touch at a point are not necessarily closest at that point. Whether they are depends on one thing: whether they run alongside one another or cross. That distinction decides which of this collection's two fabrics fits together and which does not.
Where a yarn is thinnest
A yarn in a fabric is pressed where it crosses and free where it does not, so its section changes along its own length. Every flattening this collection has ever quoted is a single number for a profile that runs from four fifths of a diameter to nearly four.
How thick a knit is
Two centre lines pass at a diameter and each has a radius on either side, so a plain jersey is two yarn diameters thick with nothing fitted. It does not depend on the gauge, it lands inside the band of this collection's woven cloths, and it is lower than any gauge will read.
A state is a thickness too
This collection's rule is that a fabric dimension quoted without its relaxation state is not a measurement. A knitted fabric has three dimensions and only two of them obey the rule: its thickness is the same in every state, because the interlacing that sets it does not relax.
A thread between two crossings is an elastica
Every crossing force Peirce's thread path can give comes from a tension, and a cloth on a table has none. What presses its threads together there is their own unwillingness to be bent — and recovering that needs a shape nobody had, because a path assembled from an arc and a straight line has a bending moment that jumps.
The constants say nothing about thickness
Munden's two constants give a knitted fabric's wale and course spacings from its loop length alone, and the tightness factor collapses every fabric's shape onto one curve. Neither reaches the third dimension: two knits that are one knit in plan are two different thicknesses.
A jersey's course has no writhe
The mechanism everybody quotes for why a hard-twisted jersey leans is that the fabric relieves the yarn's twist by writhing. This collection's own solved course has a writhe of minus six parts in a million, and it is not small — it is exactly zero, by a symmetry, and the symmetry is a statement about what the model left out.
A rib's relaxation is not its bending either
A jersey does not settle where its bending energy is least, and this collection has said so for several rungs. A rib does not either, and the model now says how far from least it would have to go: sixteen yarn diameters of bed gap before the yarn runs out, against the two or three a machine is set to.
A point cannot link
A knitted fabric of n wales has a linking number of n between every pair of adjacent courses. This collection's model of the same fabric has zero, and it has zero because the interlacing was declared to be a point where two centre lines pass a diameter apart — which is a near miss, and a near miss is not a knot.
Five symptoms of one omission
Five things this collection recorded as unexplained, found in four different ladders over three years of work. They are the same defect seen from five directions, and the defect is one sentence written for good reasons with no visible cost at the time.
The fabric that does not fit
Every solve in this collection minimises an energy over a centre line, and a centre line has no thickness. Nobody had checked whether the fabric that comes out of it can be built. It cannot: two adjacent courses of the relaxed jersey approach to four fifths of a yarn diameter, so the yarn passes through itself, at rest, everywhere.
A run cannot cross a bed
A dropped stitch unroves because its neighbour above can pull it out along a path that costs almost nothing. In a rib the neighbour above is on the other bed, and the path goes through the gap — so a run in a two-bed fabric has to pay for a climb before it can take a single loop.
The flattening nobody fitted
A yarn in cloth is not round, everybody knows it, and nothing has ever predicted how flat. This collection's own knitted geometry turns out to require a flattening of four fifths — from a solve that knew nothing about flattening, made no allowance for it, and would have been written the same way if the idea had never occurred to anybody.
A loop is a plane curve in another plane
A knitted loop was solved as a flat curve because two curves in one plane cannot pass through one another and a loop must. Letting it out of the plane turns out to change nothing about its shape: the loop is still planar, and its plane is the fabric's turned through twelve degrees.
A loop bends at twice its own radius
A rod of radius r cannot be bent to a centre-line radius below r without occupying its own space. A knitted loop's tightest bend is at 2.04 yarn radii — twice the hard limit, and falling as the fabric tightens. That is a ceiling on how tight a knit can be, from contact alone.
What leaving the plane costs
Every number the flat loop model produced, beside the same number with the climb in it. Four of the five fall, none moves by four per cent, and the estimate that priced the third dimension beforehand had the sign the wrong way round for a reason worth naming.
Contact is not why a jersey stops
The model says a jersey can be pulled to three hundred and twenty per cent along its courses. Real ones stop at about a hundred. The recorded diagnosis was that nothing stops adjacent courses passing through one another — and giving the yarn a thickness closes seven per cent of a gap of two thirds.
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.
What holds a crest apart
Two half periods meet at every crest of every course and, in this collection's model, run within a fiftieth of a yarn diameter of one another for more than a millimetre. In a fabric what holds them apart is the loop of the next course drawn between them — which is the loop this model does not have.
A tuck is the one stitch that links twice
Knitting has three stitches and only one of them makes a new link. A knit stitch links a loop to the loop below; a miss links nothing; and a tuck holds two loops in one head — which is why a tuck stops a run and why the three cannot be described by one number.
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.
A tuck decides whether a third of two-bed fabrics lean
A jersey leans because every loop is on one bed and a rib does not because its loops are mirrored across two, and the count that says so treated a tuck as nothing. A tuck is a loop of the same lively yarn wrapped round a needle of one bed, and nobody here has measured how much of a knit loop's lean it carries. It matters. Of the 1,135 two-bed fabrics a two-needle, two-course frame can make, 135 are balanced whatever a tuck carries and 612 lean whatever it carries — and 388, a third, are balanced under one answer and lean under the other. A half-cardigan leans a third of a jersey if a tuck carries nothing and not at all if it carries a full loop's torque, which makes it the instrument that would settle the question.
Twist is not torsion
A curve has a torsion and a material has a twist, they share a word, and only one of them is what a torsional rigidity resists. Getting them the wrong way round would have made this collection conclude that a knitted loop carries no twist, on the strength of a theorem that says nothing of the kind.
The section that changes both stiffnesses
A thread's two rigidities are in the ratio 2G/E, and that is a fact about a circular section: a circle's polar second moment is exactly twice its flexural one. A yarn in cloth is not circular, so a yarn in cloth has three constants rather than two — and the ratio a whole ladder rests on is a lower bound.
Where this collection's thread model now stands
A thread has two stiffnesses and a thickness, and this collection's model has had one stiffness and no thickness. Both were added in one phase, neither reached the question it was built for, and the accounting is worth more than either.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
ElasticaCloth thicknessContact forceInterlacingTightness factorContactLoop lengthYarn diameterJammingTwo-bedCourseLinking number