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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.
A cloth slips at its least-interlaced thread
A weave's firmness is quoted as one number, the interlacings per crossing averaged over the whole repeat. A cloth does not fail on average. A thread pulled through a seam or out of a cut edge is held by its own crossings, the grip is exponential in them, and the thread with fewest goes first. In every four-by-four draft but plain weave some thread interlaces twice a repeat — the fewest possible — whatever the average says, and a satin stripe on a plain ground averages 0.87 while its satin ends grip at a seventh of the average thread.
A selvedge holds only where its edge end changes face
A shuttle weft goes out on one pick and back on the next, and between them it turns round the end at the edge. The turn is caught only if that end is on the other face on the second pick; otherwise the loop has nothing to wrap and slides off. Plain weave catches every turn at every width. A 2/2 twill catches them at half its widths, and only if the first pick is thrown from the right side. A 3/1 twill, a hopsack and every satin catch them nowhere, and of the 22,874 four-by-four drafts, 9,636 cannot hold a selvedge at any width at all.
No cloth derives into more than three others
Every weaving manual opens by saying the three basic weaves generate the rest. This collection counted the reach and found nine of 426, and left the nine as a count. It is not a count: every derivation the manuals name is a relabelling of the grid or a complementation of it, both invertible, so they generate a group — and that group cuts the 426 cloths into 157 closed pieces of which the largest holds four. The claim is not merely wrong about how much derivation reaches; derivation cannot reach more than four cloths from anywhere, by any sequence of operations, however long.
A float limit leaves one row-free satin
A satin is chosen so that no diagonal forms, and an earlier essay found that most of them fail: the interlacings lie on a lattice, every lattice has a shortest step, and the marks line up along it unless two steps tie — which happens at twelve of the thirty-five orders from five to forty. The other constraint was named and not applied. An n-end satin floats over n − 1, so a yarn that will not carry a float longer than eight admits four orders in all, and exactly one of them is row-free: the five-end satin, which is the one everybody already weaves.
An irregular satin scatters where a regular one lines up
A regular satin's marks lie on a lattice, so its closest pairs all run along one vector and make a row. An irregular satin has no lattice at all, so its closest pairs may point several ways at once — and at seven and nine ends, where every regular satin at the best spread has a row, an irregular one reaches the same spread with its closest pairs scattered over four directions and no more than a third in any one. At eight and eleven ends there is no such satin: the best spread is reached by regular satins alone, and irregularity has nothing to offer.
A satin's row belongs to its sett
Point paper draws an end and a pick as equal squares, and every result about which satins have a row was taken there. A cloth is not square: it is set at so many ends and so many picks a centimetre, and in cloth the ties that made twelve satin orders row-free are ties between steps of different shape, which break at the first per cent of unequal sett. The reverse happens too. An eight-end satin, rowed on paper, has no row at exactly 1.291 ends per pick; an eleven-end at 1.265 and 1.528. And the only scatter that survives a range of setts is an irregular satin whose closest steps are mirror images — which nine ends has from the first per cent and ten only by 1.3.
A cloth's derivation class is its census of small patches
The manuals' derivations cut the 426 four-by-four cloths into 157 orbits, and an orbit is found by searching a group of 256 operations. The question left was whether a short list of numbers read off a draft could do the same job. The familiar ones cannot. Marks, interlacings, layers, plane group, float lengths, crossings per thread and distinct ends and picks are all invariant, and all seven together tell 120 of the orbits apart. A census of the two-by-two patches a draft contains tells 127 apart. A census of its three-by-three patches tells all 157 apart — a complete invariant of derivation, computed by counting windows rather than by searching operations.
No cloth shines under a sky
Every specular figure on this account is drawn at a tolerance of two degrees, which is a stand-in for how wide the source is. Sweeping it says something the account has not: the contrast between a floated weave and a plain one is inversely proportional to the source's angular size, exactly, because a float keeps a crown line as the source narrows and a plain weave has only turns. A satin outshines a plain weave by 177 under the sun's disc, by 22 under a small lamp, and by exactly nothing at sixty degrees.
A room lights a satin at the harmonic mean of its lamps
A satin outshines a plain weave by a factor inversely proportional to the width of the light, which is a clean law for one source and says nothing about a room. A room has a lamp and a window at once. Sum each source's highlight and the average falls out by itself: the room behaves as a single source whose width is the harmonic mean of its sources' widths, weighted by the power each supplies. The harmonic mean is ruled by the narrowest source, so a small lamp carrying a tenth of the light more than doubles the contrast a large window gives.
A lamp off the mirror lights a satin only across its floats
Every source in the account of a room was a source the viewer sees mirrored in the cloth. A lamp off to one side lights the cloth too, and which facets it reaches depends on which way it is off. Displaced across a satin's floats it is caught by the float's own curve and adds contrast like any lamp on the mirror; displaced along them by more than twice its own width it reaches only the turns, and the satin comes out a quarter as bright as plain weave.
A satin mirrors the top of the sky
A uniform source sixty degrees wide leaves every weave reflecting the same share of its face, and that was read as saying no cloth shines under a sky. A real sky is not uniform. An overcast one is three times as bright overhead as at the horizon, and it stands over a ground darker than itself. Every facet of a cloth mirrors one direction, and a satin's facets mirror the top of the dome while a plain weave's mirror the horizon and the ground — so seen from above, under cloud, an eight-end satin still sends back a third more sky.
A weave holds its selvedge with two of its own columns, or not at all
A selvedge holds where its edge end changes face at every turn of the weft there, and the turns at one edge fall on alternate pick boundaries. So an end can hold the right edge only if its column changes face at every odd boundary, and the left edge only at every even one. Whether a weave can hold a selvedge is then whether its set of columns contains one of each kind, and nothing about its width matters. Two ends re-entered on the right shafts make 13,238 of the 22,874 four-by-four drafts hold at any width, where 3,262 did. The other 9,636 need a shaft of their own. A weave with an odd number of picks has no column of either kind, and never can.
A reed can dent a sateen out of its row and not a satin
A reed pulls the ends in each dent closer together than the average spacing, so a satin's marks stop lying on a lattice, and a step that fits inside one dent shortens. For the eight-end satin, four or five ends to a dent scatter its row once the ends in a dent sit 22.5 per cent closer than average. Five shares no factor with eight, so that denting leaves no reed mark. But a warp-faced satin's ends are set too close to close up that far, and what replaces the row is the reed's own stripe. Two ends to a dent never scatter any satin's row, and they give the one row-free satin the trade weaves a row.
The window that names a cloth is half its repeat
At four by four a census of three-by-three windows tells every derivation family from every other, and the question it left was whether three stays enough as the repeat grows. Walked whole over eleven repeat shapes, three is still enough at five ends — all 45,077 families of the five-by-five cloths apart — and fails as soon as the repeat reaches six. On every shape a window no wider than half the repeat confuses some cloths, and a window wider than half names them all, but for one pair of seven-end cloths that differ in a single end.
A tucked-in edge asks every weave the odd repeat's question
A shuttle weft turns at one edge per pick, alternately, and that alternation is what let a 2/2 twill hold both selvedges with two ends re-entered on its own shafts. A rapier or air-jet loom cuts every pick at both edges and tucks both tails into the next shed, so every boundary between picks is a turn at both edges — the question an odd repeat always asked. Only a plain column answers it. Of the 22,874 four-by-four drafts, 10,382 can still hold their edges on their own shafts, against 13,238 under a shuttle; the 2/2 twill is among the 2,856 lost. And the tucked zone carries two picks in every shed, which lies flat only below between a half and two thirds of a weave's maximum pick density.
A tucked edge stands proud because its warp goes straight
A tucked zone holds two picks in every shed, and the obvious account is that the pairs run out of room and bulge. The loom says otherwise: the warp is let off as one sheet and the cloth taken up at one speed, so the zone's ends have only the body's length to spend. They rise less. The weft takes up the height, so the edge is proud well before the pairs stop fitting, and they stand up well after the count says they must.
Compound and figured cloths
Double cloth, pile, leno, and the loom that decides what can exist. Where a fabric stops being one binary matrix — a third thread system, a warp order that changes between picks — and where the integrity criterion runs out and friction takes over.
The harness does not grow
Nearly every account of a loom says the shaft count limits the repeat. It limits the repeat of a straight draw, and of nothing else — a reversed twill on ninety-six ends weaves on the same four shafts as the twill it was made from, and the ratio grows without bound.
What a dobby stores
A pattern chain does not store picks. It stores lifts — the distinct sets of shafts a draft ever raises — and for most drafts worth weaving that number is very much smaller than the number of picks, which is the second half of the reason a wide repeat is affordable.
A jacquard is every end its own shaft
The machine is usually described as the one that weaves anything. What it actually does is abolish one of the loom's two budgets and make the other proportional to the width of the repeat — which turns a constraint on the design's kind into a constraint on its size, and those are very different things to be short of.
A damask is its own complement
The pattern is carried by direction alone. Figure and ground are the same satin, one warp-face and one weft-face, with the same longest float, the same shaft count and the same threading — so the cloth's most famous effect costs it no structural difference whatever between the two areas.
Pile is a third thread system
Velvet, corduroy, plush and carpet all carry threads that are not woven into the ground in the ordinary sense. Two of the three systems make a perfectly good matrix and the third is not in it — so the encoding this whole site rests on has nothing to say about the part of the fabric a hand actually touches.
How a tuft is held
A V-fastened tuft and a W-fastened tuft are both attached, and the integrity criterion returns the same verdict for both. One of them is specified for hotel corridors and the other sheds. What separates them is not a topological property at all — it is an angle, and it needs a coefficient somebody has to measure.
Corduroy is a cut float
An extra weft floats over some ends, a knife runs along the cloth, and each half of the float stands up. So the pile height is exactly half the float's length — which makes corduroy the one pile fabric whose surface is decided entirely by a quantity this site has been counting since its first essay.
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.