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Weaves
Plain, twill and satin, and what actually separates them — float length, interlacing count, and a satin that cannot exist on six ends.
What combining two weaves reaches
The account before it found that the manuals' own operations on their own basic weaves reach nine of the 426 four-by-four cloths, and recorded one exclusion honestly: combination — striping, checking and figuring — was left out, because a combination of two four-end weaves is eight ends wide and so is not a four-by-four cloth at all. Admitting it triples the reach and leaves ninety-three per cent of the catalogue outside.
A float presses on nothing
The rung below expected the float correction to change how a satin's hold compares with a plain weave's, by something like the ratio of their interlacing rates. It does not change the comparison at all — the interlacing rate leaves the answer outside the logarithm and divides straight out of any ratio. What it changes is the absolute answer, by a factor of four, for every weave alike.
The six-end satin that does exist
There is no six-end satin, and this collection proved it in its founding essays. The proof is about satins with a move number. Drop that word — keep one mark per end and no two marks touching — and six ends has exactly one satin, unique up to where the repeat is started, and four ends still has none at all.
A seersucker is made at the loom
Every other relief weave in this collection gets its shape after the loom, from a difference of crimp between two regions of a few per cent. A seersucker's surplus is thirty per cent and is put in as the cloth is woven — an order of magnitude more, which the square root turns into a factor of four in depth and no more than that.
How sharply a weave lets a cloth fold
A fold's length difference is paid for out of crimp, and crimp is not spread evenly along a thread — it is made at the interlacings and nowhere else. So what a fold has to spend is not the weave's average crimp but whatever is inside the few picks the fold crosses, and in an eight-end satin half the warp ends have nothing there at all.
Only a plain weave has one size of hole
A weave's holes come in kinds, and the kinds are read off the matrix. Asking which weaves have only one kind looks like a question with an obvious answer and a one-line proof. Every draft at four by four was built and asked instead, and the count came back fourteen — of which twelve turn out to be telling the truth about the sett rather than about the weave.
A satin's hole is a slot
Two cloths at the same cover have the same open area, exactly, and do not pass the same air. A float lays parallel threads side by side and the hole beside them is long rather than square, and drawing a hole out at constant area cuts what it passes to two fifths — because the hydraulic diameter falls and the shape factor climbs, and both of them move the same way.
What a missing end does to the weave
Every four-by-four draft there is, with each of its four ends taken away in turn: ninety-one thousand cloths, and not one of them falls into layers. What happens instead is worse, and the criterion has never had to report it before.
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.
Which weave hides a fault
The trade says a busy weave hides a mistake. Every four-by-four draft there is was laid out as cloth and given every wrong lift it could have, and ninety-nine in a hundred hand that single mistake a float of seven — because a reversal does not lengthen a float, it joins two.
The other crepe is in the yarn
A crepe weave puts the texture in the matrix. A crepe yarn puts it nowhere the matrix can see: the cloth is a plain weave, and the surface comes from a thread twisted so hard that it shortens by a seventh and spends the rest of its life trying to untwist.
A float reflects into a line
A cylinder cannot return a beam to a point. Its normals sweep the whole half-turn across it and nothing at all along it, so a straight thread throws light into a fan — seen as a highlight lying along the thread, exactly as long as the length of thread that is straight. The lobe of a satin is twice as narrow along the thread as across it; the lobe of a plain weave is exactly round.
Lustre is a length times a width
The specular area of a cloth factors exactly: a length of crown line, which the draft supplies, times a width of section within the tolerance, which the yarn and the finish supply. Neither factor knows anything about the other, and over the four-by-four catalogue the first alone spans a factor of sixty.
A calender buys the width
Press a cloth and its lustre multiplies by twenty-four. None of that comes from the length of its crowns, which moves by six per cent; all of it comes from their width, because a flattened section has a plane on top of it and a plane has one normal rather than a fan of them. The arithmetic refuses to put any of the gain in the other factor.
Turn the cloth and the shine changes hands
A warp crown's normals all lie in the plane across the warp and have no component along it, so a warp float can only mirror light that arrives from across the warp. Turn the cloth a quarter turn and the weft takes over. That is the whole of shot silk — a geometric effect with no dye that changes and no interference in it.
A crepe is flat in its draft and not in its surface
A crepe weave is chosen by pushing the draft's correlations as flat as they will go. That criterion turns out to tie: on the base this collection uses, 4,416 of the 5,040 rearrangements reach the floor. Sixteen of them additionally spread their crown line perfectly evenly — and the crepe actually drawn is not one of the sixteen.
A hair layer veils a highlight
An eight-end satin's shine swings by a large factor as the cloth is turned, because a straight thread's normals lie in the plane across it. Put fibre ends on it and the swing disappears — not because the hairs block the light, which changes no contrast at all, but because they return light of their own that has no direction in it.
A woven cloth is not linked at all
Every thread in every woven cloth passes over its neighbours and comes back. None of them passes through. So the linking number of any two threads in any weave is zero, at any crimp, permanently — and almost everything a cloth does that a knitted fabric does not follows from that one number being nought.
A woven cloth asked the same question
A knitted fabric's two adjacent courses occupy the same space by a fifth of a diameter. A woven cloth's two systems overlap by nothing at all in an open cloth and by four and a half per cent in a dense one — and the difference is that they cross rather than run alongside.
A group is one thread for cover and two for bending
The rung below leaves a limitation standing: two ends with nothing between them lie touching, and whether they behave as one thread of twice the diameter was said to depend on twist, hairiness and finish. Three of the four measures have exact answers with no friction in them and no two agree. A pair covers exactly what a double-diameter thread covers, with half its yarn, and bends at between an eighth and five eighths of its rigidity — and at equal yarn it covers forty per cent more and bends half as stiffly.
A cord's height has a ceiling and its width has none
A warp rib's cord is a wave, and its two dimensions come from two different places. The height is the weft's own crimp amplitude, and Peirce's closure condition caps it at the two yarn diameters together — 500 µm for a quarter-millimetre yarn, of which a 2/2 rib reaches 304 and a 6/6 rib 391. The pitch is the doubling times the pick spacing and has no cap at all. So a bolder rib is taller and wider, and wider faster: the aspect falls from 0.41 to 0.22.
The four named weaves are corners of a family
Plain, warp rib, weft rib and hopsack are one construction with two knobs, and the trade turns both together or neither. Group the ends by two and the picks by three and the result is an ordinary cloth with a name, no literature and a fundamental domain of twelve intersections on two shafts — and the family's three quantities all have closed forms: two shafts everywhere, a unit of exactly 2ab, and a longest float of the larger grouping.
What nothing separates comes out together
The doubled family's interlacing rate has a closed form — half the sum of the two groupings' reciprocals — so a seam's grip on its own threads is the exponential of a harmonic mean, and it saturates in each grouping separately. At a ten-millimetre allowance a 2/2 hopsack holds a thread at seventy-four times the applied tension and a 1/4 warp rib at two hundred and eighteen, on cloths whose firmness differs by an eighth.
Most satins still have a diagonal
A satin is chosen so that no diagonal forms, and its move is ranked by how far apart its interlacings sit. But the interlacings of a regular satin lie on a lattice, every lattice has a shortest step, and the marks line up along it. Only when two shortest steps tie is there no row to follow — and between five and forty ends the best move manages that at twelve of the thirty-five orders.