Nesting

I'm weaving a rag rug, while listening to an audio version of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus, read by Simon Vance. It's a perfect novel to listen to: a crazy combination of romance, Gothic horror, and psychological thriller. I've tried to read it several times, but hearing Vance do the slightly crazed, somewhat Transylvanian accent of Victor Frankenstein, seemingly the creator of a man-shaped monsters from bits and pieces from the cemetery and the morgue. I say seemingly, because I began to doubt his reliability pretty quickly - he does that eighteenth-century thing of being ill for several months at a time, overwhelmed emotionally and psychologically, only to rally and then see the monster in incredible places, such as suddenly showing up in the Alps as Frankenstein is taking a tour of the sublime, overcome, yet again, by guilt, passion, fear, and beauty. Oh, those eighteenth-century Romantics.
But about the weaving: the great thing about this rag rug is how quickly it is weaving up. Two and half discs of the book and I'm ready to cut it from the loom, knot the warp ends for fringe, and take a look at it close-up. Below, a view showing the interaction of the warp colors and the pattern, though the colors are more accurate in the photos above.
I'm enjoying putting a short warp (about 100-125") on the loom, weaving something, and then starting a new project. I'd get more accomplished, in the long run, if I put a much longer warp on and I would waste less yarn (you lose at least 35" from each warp end to the mechanics of attaching to the back beam and front beam of the loom). But it's nice, for a change, to see something different coming off the loom at periods closer together than one year, my previous average for weaving a project.


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