Shed — where it appears
Named by 11 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.
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.
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 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 mispick is one row in the wrong place
Every four-by-four draft, with each of its picks replaced by every shed the loom could have made instead: a million and a third substitutions. Two thirds leave a cloth that still hangs together, a third leave a thread held by nothing, and the same wrong shed is harmless in one draft and fatal in another.
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.
An easer gives back the kink the crossed shed puts in
A leno loom gives its crossing ends slack at every crossed shed, and the obvious reason — the doup carrying its end sideways — is worth a hundredth of an ordinary shed. The length is one heddle further back. In the crossed shed the doup lifts the end on the far side of its partner while the end's own back heddle, a few shafts behind, holds it down, and between those two eyes the end climbs eleven centimetres in six and a half. On a loom that stretches an ordinary end 0.46 per cent, that is 5.85 per cent — nearly thirteen times as much — and no position of the back heddle takes it below four.
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.
A heddle eye lets the kink through
A leno's crossing end is pulled up at its doup and held down at its back standard, and the length that costs was priced as if both heddle eyes were frictionless. They grip, and gripping ought to trap the kink between them at nearly a hundred per cent strain. It does not come close. A capstan bounds a ratio of tensions, not a difference, and the spans either side are already stretched, so at a coefficient of 0.3 the span between the eyes takes 9.48 newtons against 7.08 with no friction at all — a third more, not fifteen times more — and an easer has to give back 67.9 millimetres rather than 64.4. What friction changes more is when the length is wanted.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
LoomWarp strainHarnessHeddleJacquardThreadingBack restCapstanShaftDoupEaserInterlacing