Every essay — page 12
What cloth is Weaves Setting and geometry Knits and other structures Mechanics and drape Pattern and colour Compound and figured cloths After the loom Cloth doing a job
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Pattern and colour
A draft is a periodic plane pattern with two states, so the symmetry is two-coloured. Colour order, and the things the eye reliably gets wrong.
What a figure costs the loom
A block design's shaft count does not depend on how wide the figure is, or how deep, or how many blocks it has. It depends on how many *different* block-columns it has, and each new one costs exactly one repeat of the ground weave — 8 shafts, then 16, then 24, in a straight line with no slope to fit.
A woven outline is a staircase
A jacquard's resolution is quoted as its hook count, and on a 1,200-hook machine 140 cm wide that is a step of 1.17 mm. The cloth cannot use it. A figure's smallest feature is one repeat of the ground weave, which on an eight-end satin is 3.33 mm — so the machine resolves nearly three times finer than the fabric can hold, and a finer machine buys nothing at all.
A rectangular block is not half a rule
The block rule was proved for square blocks and the rectangular case was recorded as not run, on the grounds that a block a repeat wide and half a repeat deep satisfies only half the condition. Running it turns up two things: half the condition rules out the failure nobody can see, and a block turned through a right angle is a different design — which a square census cannot notice, because a square block is its own transpose.
What else the relative origin decides
Where two weaves start relative to each other decides whether the cloth holds together, and it has a second consequence beside that. Two is what a search finds when it looks twice. Sweeping every origin against every measure of the cloth turns up a third — the longest float, which is the one property a weaver actually looks at — and turns up an earlier figure caption that says the opposite.
A figured cloth has a step in its surface
A damask is one cloth in one set of threads at one sett, and it is not flat. A thread presses on the thread it crosses only where it turns, so a region that turns less often is pressed less often, flattens less and stands thicker — and the step is a ratio of interlacing rates, read off the matrix with no yarn property in it.
A shading changes two things at once
The tone steps of a shaded damask are exactly even — each adds one satin coset, so the fraction of warp on the face is k over n with no averaging in it. The lustre steps are not even at all: on eight ends the longest float runs 7, 3, 3, 1, 3, 3, 7, so a series that grades smoothly in tone is at its most matt exactly in the middle.
A motif is drawn at the wrong shape on purpose
Point paper has one cell per end and per pick, so a design's proportions on the cloth are the ratio of the two setts. Both setts move in the finishing and they move in opposite directions, so a circle drawn as a circle comes back out of round — by three per cent on a balanced cloth and by sixteen on a warp-dense one.
Two layers are the product on average and nowhere
Everybody knows what two layers of a cloth pass: the product of their open areas. That figure is exactly right — it is the mean of the true answer over every way the two layers can lie — and it is the answer at two registrations out of a continuum. In register a doubled cloth is as open as a single one; half a thread out it can be shut completely. The variation across a folded curtain is what a moiré is.
Opacity is not cover
The covering rule counts a thread as a bar that stops everything, and a single fine cotton thread held to a window plainly does not. What a cloth transmits is the open area plus whatever comes through the threads, so the covered fraction is a lever rather than a barrier — and the lever is longest exactly where the rule says the cloth is most closed. Nothing here computes a thread's transmittance, and saying why is the useful half.
A random error hides and a periodic one shows
A warp whose threads vary by fifteen per cent looks perfectly even. One dent of the reed a tenth of a millimetre wide makes a streak that gets the piece rejected. The same amount of error, arranged two ways — and the ratio between them is √(2n/π), with nothing fitted in it.
A slub finds the width of the cloth
A thick place recurring along a weft yarn does not make a bar. It makes diagonals — and when the cloth's width happens to be a whole number of fault periods, it makes stripes down the piece instead, from a fault that is entirely in the weft.
A cloth cannot be more even than its yarn
It can be very much more even than its yarn, and by exactly the square root of the threads in view. Which raises a question the fineness argument left open — and the answer is that at a fixed cloth weight the count cancels out entirely.
A figure shows by its shine, not its step
A damask is one cloth in one colour and its pattern is plainly visible. This collection attributed that to the step in its surface — fifty micrometres of relief, computed from the interlacing rates. The step is real and returns almost no light. What makes the figure visible is that its crowns run at right angles to the ground's, so the two trade places when the cloth is turned.
A cloth is more opaque than it is closed
Opacity is not cover — this collection established that already and left the discrepancy attributed to the thickness of the threads. Part of it is not in the threads at all. A hair standing in a hole blocks light exactly as well as a thread does and costs nothing in air.
A crepe is a yarn that will not lie still
A crepe cloth's pebbled surface is the yarn's own torque acting on a cloth that cannot resist it. The instability that makes a slack yarn snarl says how large the pebbles should be, and the answer is a millimetre — which is what a crepe looks like.
A shadow stripe is two twists
A cloth striped in one colour, where the stripe is visible only because alternate bands are spun the other way round. The pattern is carried entirely by which way the fibres lie on the yarn's surface, and it disappears when the light moves.
A tone ramp is a valley, and the satin digs it
A shading's tone is exact and its lustre is measured; its thickness is neither, and nobody specifies it. A firmer weave is pressed harder at every crossing and finishes thinner, so an eight-end shading sinks eighty-four micrometres between its ends and its midtone — about a third of the cloth's whole thickness, on every cloth tried. Build the same chain on a twill instead of a satin and the sag is exactly nothing.
A tone step does not need a satin
Every account of shading builds its tone steps out of satin cosets, and at four ends and at six there is no satin to build them from. The construction was never about satins: what a tone step actually needs is that every end and every pick carry the same number of marks, which makes a chain of them a Latin square. A four-end repeat has twenty-four of those and a six-end repeat 1,128,960.
A weave is a halftone screen with n greys
An eight-by-eight cell of dots gives a printer sixty-five levels of grey. The same cell in cloth gives seven. Sixteen of the missing fifty-eight go to the requirement that every thread reach both faces and forty-two go to the requirement that every thread carry the same number of marks — so evenness, not interlacing, is what a weave pays for its tone scale.
A colour order beats the weave it is threaded on
The reed's grouping beats against the weave repeat and the arithmetic is a least common multiple. A colour order is a second grouping of the same warp and the arithmetic is identical — but where the reed's beat is a fault to be dented out of a cloth, the colour order's beat is the pattern the cloth is sold for. Across 472 colour orders on four weaves the divisor bound is the surface's exact repeat in 470 or more, and the handful that beat it have no pattern left at all.
A moiré is a vernier, and it magnifies the error too
Two gratings a per cent apart in pitch beat at a hundred pitches, so a moiré reads a pitch difference at a hundred times — which is what a vernier is. The magnification is free and its ceiling is not: the fringes split when one thread's own spacing error reaches 0.84 of the pitch difference the beat is built on, so the usable gain is 0.84 divided by the cloth's coefficient of variation, inversely and not inverse-squarely. At an ordinary yarn's spacing irregularity, a moiré carries a magnification of five.
A damask's edge floats further than its figure
Figure and ground in a damask carry the same longest float, which is true of both areas and false along the line between them. A float can cross the edge where two tones meet, and when one tone's marks lie inside the other's it can never be longer than a float either tone already has. A damask built as an exact complement is the one place in n that its ground can start which breaks this, and it floats n picks at its edge against n − 1 inside.
Two sheers make a moiré that walks with the viewer
Hang two identical sheer curtains a few centimetres apart and a moiré appears with no angle between them and no difference in their threads. Perspective alone makes the far one look finer. The fringes are p·V/D apart, which means they cover the same angle from every distance; they move one for one with a person walking past, which is the parallax of the horizon; and a far layer stretched by one per cent makes them vanish at exactly one distance, which says which layer is coarser and by how much.
A sheer hides whichever side is darker
A net curtain hides a room by day and shows it at night, and the cloth has nothing to do with which. What a viewer sees through a sheer is an image through its clear lines of sight against a veil of lit thread, and the only thing that decides their balance is how much brighter one side is than the other. At equal light the two views are identical for every cloth there is. And a black sheer of the same openness shows twelve times more of the room by day than a white one.