Queen Elizabeth’s ruffs

 

Looking at images of Queen Elizabeth I of England reveals the development of lace ruffs throughout the sixteenth century. The fashion for ruffs began in the 1530s with a small ruffle on the neckband of the smock. As the century progressed the ruffles became box pleated and fuller, often with an edging of simple needlelace, embroidery, or cording. They tended to be full at the back and sides of the head but were shallower at the chin.

By the 1570, the ruff had become a uniform size around the head and was formed of figure-of-eight shaped pleats often 3-4 inches in height. Wide lengths of lace were used to edge the ruff often incorporating spangles, or sequins, which would have sparkled as they caught the light. These ruffs were separate items of clothing and no longer attached to the smock. This made them easier to launder and starch into their stiffened shape.

The 1580s saw the development of much wider and more ornate ruffs, which appeared to be made entirely of lace, or were embroidered and edged with a wide lace edging. These ruffs required a support behind them to maintain their shape and the effect was quite stunning, as we can see in this miniature by Nicholas Hilliard.

By the 1590s necklines were lower and ruffs were often worn open with their edges pinned to the corners of the bodice. These ruffs tended to be more delicate than the solid styles of the previous decade. They also needed a support, known as a rebato, to maintain their height and shape. These supports were finer than the earlier ones and were made of wire covered with thin gauze or cotton, some also had an edging of lace. This detail of the Rainbow portrait by Isaac Oliver also shows the Queen’s delicate wired head rail. We are very fortunate that painting styles of the time depicted clothing so accurately, providing a beautiful record of these changing fashions.

Lace bobbins made by the Haskins family

 

The Haskins family were prolific makers of beautiful lace bobbins, in both bone and wood, from the late eighteenth to the late nineteenth century and many are now found in museums. The examples above are all made from bone and give a brief glimpse of their output. Joseph Haskins was born in 1779, lived in Bedford, and made highly decorated bobbins that included coloured spots, pewter wire and tinsel. He also turned bobbins with loose rings around the shank and made lovely ‘church window’ bobbins, with openings along the shank that contained tiny miniature lace bobbins inside them. In the image above the bobbin on the left is a church window bobbin with tiny green dyed bone bobbins inside the shank. Joseph is the only maker known to decorate these small inserted bobbins with a spiral groove. The second bobbin in the image is one of the few inscribed bobbins Joseph made. His lettering is distinctive and lies between two spirals of red and blue. The inscription reads ‘Eliza Ward is no moor’. Another unusual feature is that the text has to be read by holding the bobbin head down; the more usual direction is with the head up.

David Haskins was one of Joseph’s sons and he learnt bobbin making from his father. He later moved to Leighton Buzzard and established his business there. Like his father, he produced many decorated bobbins but relied on coloured dots, inlaid pewter and wire decoration, often including tiny lines of bead work (the two central bobbins in the image are his work). He did produce inscribed bobbins but the lettering is quite simple and plain and long inscriptions read up the shank of the bobbin in the conventional way. His nephew, Robert Haskins (Joseph’s grandson), also became a bobbin maker and seems to have learnt the skill from his grandfather. He records as a young teenager sawing bones into blanks for his grandfather to turn into bobbins. An example of Robert’s work is on the right in the image above. It is much simpler than that of his relatives, with coloured slashes and turned rings. He also used inlaid pewter and wire but does not seem to have made any inscribed bobbins. The Haskins family were clearly very skilled and prolific bobbin makers, whose work spans the entire nineteenth century and beyond. The style of their work also mirrors the fortunes of the lacemaking areas they worked in. With ornate and expensive bobbins being produced at the end of the eighteenth century but plainer functional designs being made by the end of the nineteenth century, when the handmade lace industry was in decline.

Filet lace patterns

 

I’ve been studying filet lace patterns again and found some lovely ones in a French book of designs. Unfortunately it isn’t dated but I think it was probably published in Paris in the early twentieth century. The booklet is basically a catalogue of designs that can be purchased by mail order.

There are a variety of types and styles of pattern. Several are ecclesiastical in nature including those shown here, as well as some vignettes of biblical figures such as David and Goliath and Judith and Holofernes, which are a bit bloodthirsty, and some more benign ones of angels and cherubs.

Other items are designed for the home such as these small table mats and there are also patterns for larger mats and chair backs and arm covers. Although several of these patterns are quite large and complicated I think they were designed to be worked by amateurs in the home. No instructions are given in the booklet but the text states that they are included with the patterns. However, from previous patterns I have seen I think they would have assumed a high level of skill from the worker and would not be very detailed. The booklet also includes advertisements for the type of thread required to make the patterns but I do not know if the instructions included the amount required or not. It would be lovely to see some of these beautiful pieces worked, but failing that, the designs are a lovely reminder of times past.

Parchment prickings

 

The pricking is the pattern used for bobbin lace. However, before the use of cardboard they were made from parchment and were often known just as parchments. My sources say that old parchments were generally 12 to 14 inches long but the one I have is only 10 inches in length plus the cloth extensions at each end which are about 4 inches long and are used to attach the pattern to the lace pillow.

Thomas Wright in The romance of the lace pillow says that the lace designer not only drew the pattern but also pricked it. This was done by making holes in the pattern where the lacemaker would need to use pins to support the work, using a needle fixed in a holder. Wright names several lace designers from the East Midlands and praises their skilled work. He explains that the design was first pricked on cardboard and the position of the outlining, or gimp threads, drawn on to the pattern to produce a draught. Transparent parchment was then laid over the draught, which was used as a template to prick the pin holes through the parchment. The position of the gimp threads would then be inked on to the parchment. Subsequent patterns would probably have been pricked from a template by the person organising the lace trade or occasionally by the lacemaker herself. This copying would probably have been done by laying the original over a piece of fresh parchment and pricking through the holes in the original to make a new copy of the holes into the lower parchment, which would then be inked. My example here has rolled up with age and it is so well used that some of the holes have torn to leave a gap in the foot side, both of which are common problems with old parchments and is why many of them have not survived.

Veiled shadows

 

Veiled shadows is such an evocative theme. Veils and shadows have such resonance. They both reveal and conceal but tend not to do so completely, leaving an impression or hint of what they are covering. The shadows of these veils highlight their transience while appearing to give them volume and substance. The dual shadows of Belladonna in the image above hint at the layers of obfuscation hidden behind this widow’s mourning veil.

The text on the No, no, no veil is projected onto the wall behind, reinforcing the message, yet softening it, transforming it into a whisper as it appears to echo from the lace.

The shadow on the Vampire veil highlights the shapes of the fangs and the drops of blood on the lace reinforcing the image of dripping blood.

In this image of Pinned down the light shines on the pins edging this bridal veil, highlighting their sharp piercing nature but also produces a maze of shadows behind the work suggesting the tangle of problems that will result from this marriage. Lighting is so important when trying to produce shadows from lace and is often difficult to adjust. I was lucky that the lighting at this exhibition of the veils was ideal, producing multiple shadows and enhancing the appearance of the lace.

 

Reading the thread

 

I’m delighted to have a chapter in this fascinating new book about textiles edited by Lesley Millar and Alice Kettle. Entitled Reading the thread: Cloth and communication it considers the abilities of thread to record or communicate a story. The contributions are wide ranging including the history, construction and future of threads and their use in contemporary practice.

My chapter builds on my research into the Battle of Britain commemorative lace panel made by the Nottingham machine lace company, Dobson and Browne, at the end of the second world war. In this study I compare it with the handmade needlelace tablecloth made for Queen Elisabeth of Belgium, as part of the Belgian war lace initiative during the first world war. Although both these lace works seem quite different in technique and manufacture, there are many similarities between them. Both were designed as artworks rather than everyday lace and both incorporate iconography and symbols representative of the events of their time.

Importantly for the theme of the book, both lace artefacts communicate a story, literally and metaphorically. They both include the facts and dates of their respective wars but also the hidden story of the resilience of lacemakers and the power of lace to transcend war and result in two beautiful war memorials. The book will be published on 23 January by Bloomsbury, so not long to wait now.

Lettering in handmade lace

I often use lettering in my work and have tried various ways of incorporating it into lace. Generally I only include a phrase or a short sentence and often the idea behind the work is that the words have been caught up or trapped in the net of the lace on a curtain or veil. I have used a Bedfordshire bobbin lace technique to incorporate text into my subversive doilies project and also on some of my lace curtains (in the image above) and veils.

I have also added lace to net curtains using a tambouring technique. This involves producing a fine line of continuous chain stitches using a tambour hook and thread and is a good way of incorporating cursive script into the work.

In other curtains I have worked bobbin lace and then used threads from the lace to embroider the text across the background fabric of the curtain. I used this technique in ‘Whisperings’ where I wanted to incorporate a conversation of different threads of speech interacting with one another. I think these simple techniques suit the style of my work where I am trying to represent the thoughts of the lacemaker or imply that the words have merely been sifted from the air and trapped by the lace itself.