It is now six years since Karen died and today we celebrate what would have been her 103rd birthday. Karen loved to celebrate her birthday which is why each year we mark it on her website. For her birthday this year we are publishing an article by Dr Philip Sykas about Karen’s treasured collection of historical loom reeds. She kept them with her for many years, apart from a brief stay in the Horniman Museum. We now have them in our house. But are hoping to donate them to a museum this year. We have continued the work of transcribing and publishing the lectures she gave annually to the students at the TCC. Where possible we have included the images she used to accompany her lectures, knowing that she very much enjoyed researching them and showing them to the students. [Read more]

A group of six weaving reeds preserved by Karen for many years was uncovered during the house move from Ealing. Their precise origin had become forgotten, but it is likely that these old and fragile reeds would have been discarded if not for Karen’s recognition of their historical value.

All six reeds are constructed from natural materials in the time-honoured way. Halved dowel rods enclose the narrow splits that are evenly spaced by the winding of twine wrapped around the paired half-dowels. At each end, the reeds are finished with a narrow slat of softwood notched to take two or three wrappings of twine that cross each other in an X-shape to firm up and buttress the whole. This technique is akin to pole and ledger lashing (also called diagonal lashing), which is a rigging technique used to join two rods at right angles where there is a gap between them. All the reeds were once secured by pitch or resin that has now deteriorated so that the individual reeds are no longer tightly held. One bears traces of the paper layer that once protected the twine-wrapped canes. It is likely that the reeds were exposed to weathering or damp for many years, perhaps in a loft or basement, eroding most of the paper.

For the purpose of description, the reeds have been assigned identifying letters A to F.

Reed A (see Fig. 1.) measures 35½ x 3¾ inches (90 x 9.5cm) with a reeded width of 33¼ inches and a maximum open height of 2½ inches. It is wrapped with a coarse twine giving a spacing of 7 to 7½ splits per inch. A pencil inscription on the slat at one end that appears to read 31/6, 31 inches possibly representing the nominal weaving width. The ends of this reed have been repaired by wrapping with uncoated twine. It is the only reed of the group intended for weaving fabrics less than one yard in width, nominally 7-8ths.

Reeds B, C, D and E (see Fig. 2) have end slats with flat (rather than bevelled) faces, but the projecting top and bottom edges of the slats are bevelled to a soft V-shape. These reeds measure 48 x 3⅝ inches (122 x 9.2cm) with a reed space of about 45 x 2½ inches, so they are for weaving nominally ell-wide fabric. The counts differ with Reed B around 12 splits per inch, Reed C around 14 splits per inch, Reed D around 16 splits per inch, and Reed E around 18 splits per inch.

Reed B has the numeral IV incised on the outer edge of one slat (see Fig. 3), and the number 22 inscribed in pencil on the face of the same slat; the opposite slat is inscribed on its face 6 /. At the centre, this reed has the remains of a paper facing covering the pitch-coated twine (only about 5-inches of the paper covering remain); smaller fragments indicate that the facing once extended the full length of the reed.

Reed C has the numeral VII incised on the outer edge of one slat; and the name KAREN has been inscribed on the face (possibly at the time the reeds were acquired, as also two other reeds so marked). The number 7 is inscribed on the face of the opposite slat.

Reed D is incised with the numeral IIV on the face of one slat and XVIIII on the outer edge of the same slat; the opposite slat is heat branded with the initials I S S, probably a maker’s mark (see Fig. 4).

Reed E has the numeral VIII incised on the face of one slat.

Reed F differs in construction from the other reeds in that its end slats are roughly planed rather than flat. It is slightly larger than the other wide reeds: 48½ x 3¾ inches (123 x 9.5cm), and there are 8 splits per inch. The number 10 is inscribed on the face of one slat and 31 on that opposite. The splits of this reed have remained straight and undistorted, although with its hand-planed slats, it could be the oldest of the six.

The numbers inscribed or incised on the reeds would typically represent their reed counts. The way that reed counts are determined in Britain (and other countries) varies by region, and in theory this can serve to indicate their geographical origin. Scottish counts are based on the number of splits in 37 inches expressed in hundreds, with increases of 50 counted as half sets. Manchester and Bolton counts are based on the number of beers (where 1 beer = 20 splits) in 24¼ inches. Stockport counts are two times the splits per inch. And Rochdale counts (based on flannel manufacture) are based on the number of beers (where 1 beer = 17 splits) in 36 inches. Danish counts prior to the introduction of metric measurements were based on the number of snese (of 20 splits) per Danish ell (alen) of 24 Danish inches (tomme); the Danish ell is 62.77cm.¹ In practice, the Danish counts work out to match the Manchester counts within a small margin of error. The counts of the six reeds were calcuated using each system to compare these with the numbers given on the end splats (see Table 1.)

Table 1. Reeds mapped onto regional counting systems

Reeds & (given nos.)	Dents/inch	Scottish	Mc/r Bolton	Rochdale	Stockport	Danish
A (6)	7	200 + ½	8½	15	14	8.5
F (10)	8	300	10	17	16	10
B (IV, 22, 6)	12	400 + ½	14½	25½	24	14.8
C (VII, 7)	14	500	17	29½	28	17
D (IIV, XVIIII)	16	600	19½	34	32	19.8
E (VIII)	18	600 + ½	22	38	36	22
	19	700	23	40	38	23.5
	22	800	26	46½	44	27

If Roman numerals were intended to represent Scottish counts, we can see from the table above that they are imperfectly assigned apart from Reed B. The best matches overall are for the Manchester counts (or their Danish equivalents), with Reed F accurately represented as 10, and reed D closely approximated as XVIIII (for 19½ or 19.8). However, this does not explain the inconsistency with the inscriptions on the other four reeds. The overall lengths measure quite evenly in Imperial inches but not so in Danish tomme, which suggests an English origin for the reeds. However a letter only recently found, from Karen Finch to Louise Bacon, curator at the Horniman Museum, while the museum was considering acquisition in 2008, pronounces the reeds as Danish. The inconsistencies in numbering may relate to an earlier counting system.

In her letter, Karen compared the construction to an Egyptian example illustrated in Ancient Egyptian and Greek Looms by Henry Ling Roth (1913):

Among the objects illustrated is a reed, close to the Danish one[s], which is thought to be Coptic. Of course, there is always a sort of inevitability about techniques arising with natural materials, given their properties, but even so the likeness is interesting. (Correspondence,19 July 2008)

The Egyptian reed has iron dents and Ling Roth thought it was relatively modern. As a comparative example, it is notable that it is framed in wood without lashing at the corners. The lashing technique seen in Karen’s reeds may be a later development.

Before departing from the subject, it is useful to note that the origin of variations in reed counting systems arises from local specialisations in particular types of cloth. A reed maker’s folding wooden ruler produced by Thomas Blunt of Cornhill, London, in the late eighteenth century, records the British relationship to cloth before the transition to place names had solidified.² Designations stamped into the ruler include the following:

Beirs of 40 ends	at 24¼ Inch	Bolton
Beirs of 40 ends	at 45 Inch	Blackburn
Beirs of 20 ends	at 24¼ Inch	Fustian
Beirs of 36 ends	at Yard	Check
Beirs of 30 ends	at 20 Inch	Nankeen
Hundred Dents	at 37⅛ Inch	Scotch [muslin]

All the reeds in Karen’s collection are constructed from natural split cane (see Fig. 5). The use of natural cane was common in the eighteenth century. For example, an advertisement in the Kentish Weekly Post or Canterbury Journal, 2 Dec 1761 (p. 1) includes in the sale of the weaving implements of the late George Gear, ‘one Hundred of Cane, and Frame for making Reeds, together or separate…’ However, by the start of the nineteenth century the changeover to metal reeds was unmistakably in progress. The reed-maker, George Fox of Belfast, advertised in 1808, ‘that he has got a MACHINE, on the very best construction, for making REEDS, by which he is enabled to execute Orders with more speed than by hand. […] and will furnish REEDS of BRASS, STEEL, CANE, or MIXT…’ (Belfast Commercial Chronicle, 7 Sep 1808, p. 3). By the second quarter of the nineteenth century, reed-making advertisements are focused on metal reeds. From the Manchester Courier, 7 March 1829 (p. 2), we find a sale for a Scotch Reed Machine along with shears and ‘a large quantity of fine and coarse brass and steel dents for making reeds…’ It is likely that cane continued in use on a diminishing scale until the mid-nineteenth century. It was not until 1845 that machinery for polishing steel dents was perfected so the steel did not put undue strain on warps.

Given this progression in the reed-making trade, we can posit that the reeds salvaged by Karen probably date from the first half of the nineteenth century, and Reed F potentially from the start of that period. These survivals of craftsmanship in once-common weaving tools now possess great rarity and connect us with hand-loom weaving at the start of the industrial era.

To complete the description of Karen’s reed collection, it is important to mention a cut-down metal reed stamped with the name of the maker Baron and Hogarth Ltd (see Fig. 6). The company had a history tracing back at least to the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Thomas Baron of Kendal, reed-maker, died 4 August 1844 aged 71.³ His widow Isabella Baron carried on the business until November 1846 when it was taken over by her son, Thomas Baron.⁴ He expanded the business to wire weaving for agricultural sieves in 1853,⁵ but died suddenly 30 January 1861, aged 58, known not only for reed-making, but as a celebrated canary breeder.⁶ His widow Margaret Ann Baron ran the company for a few years until her son Thomas reached the age of majority and at the end of 1864, advertised the return of the business of ‘Reed, Heald, Riddle and Sieve Maker and General Wire Worker’, coupling this with his previously chosen occupation of hairdressing.⁷ This could explain why in March 1866, a Hat and Cap Warehouse was added to the business, and a year later Baron took John Hogarth as partner to expand into outfitting as ‘Woolen Drapers, Hatters and Outfitters’.⁸ Baron and Hogarth continued as woollen drapers, hatters, outfitters and reed makers until their partnership was dissolved on the 23 August 1879.⁹ The split marked a return to reed manufacture as the principal business. Already in July 1879, in being nominated to a seat on the Kendal town council, Thomas Baron is called a reed-maker and in the 1881 census, a reed and heald manufacturer.¹⁰ Baron became more involved with the corporate life of Kendal, and by 1891, his son Herbert William Baron had joined in the business, taking over after his father’s sudden death in April 1900. After Herbert’s own premature death in 1922, the reins passed to his son Frank Hogarth Baron (1899-1947). In 1933, the firm was incorporated as a limited company and F. H. Baron became co-director with his wife Lois Mabel Baron (1897-1977).¹¹ It was during this sixth generation that the company closed.

Since the surviving reed is from the period of the limited company, this places its date between 1933 and the closure of the firm by the early 1970s. It is a pitch baulked reed with the wooden baulks reinforced on the outside by a narrow steel strip, known as ‘steel bound’ (see Fig. 7). The protruding ends of the dent wires have been clinked, that is bent over at an angle to hold them firmly in place. Clinking, however, makes the wires more difficult to extract for replacement if repairs are necessary.¹² These strengthening measures, steel-binding and clinking, make this a reed meant for heavy-duty work. It is not known whether Karen Finch acquired it for teaching purposes or for narrow-weave work. These reeds and their survival remind us of the “invisibility” of everyday things. Our blindness to their importance risks their disappearance, with the stories they tell of working people and textile craftsmanship.

Dr Philip A. Sykas

Footnotes

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1. I am grateful to Tove Engelhardt Mathiassen of Aarhus, Denmark, for generously supplying information about Danish reed counts, backed up by a pre-decimal weaving text of 1897. ↑

2. Science Museum 1968-690, measuring scale. Thomas Blunt (1739/45-1823) traded at 22 Cornhill from around 1773 to 1822, at first in partnership with Edward Nairne from 1774 to 1793, and later with his son from 1801 to 1822. https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co44928/weavers-measuring-scale-by-thomas-blunt-london-weavers-measuring-scale ↑

3. Kendal Mercury, 10 Aug 1844, p. 3. ↑

4. Kendal Mercury, 14 Nov 1846, p. 2. ↑

5. Kendal Mercury, 1 Jan 1853, p. 1. ↑

6. Whitehaven News, 7 Feb 1861, p. 3. ↑

7. Westmorland Gazette, 31 Dec 1864, p. 1. ↑

8. Westmorland Gazette, 3 Mar 1866, p. 4. Kendal Mercury, 23 Feb 1867, p. 1. Thomas Baron (c1843-1900) married Mary Hogarth 5 Aug 1868, possibly the sister of his partner. The Hogarth family maintained a connection with the firm; Laurence S. Hogarth was a partner at the time of incorporation in 1933. ↑

9. London Gazette, 3 Oct 1879, p. 5748. ↑

10. Westmorland Gazette, 26 Jul 1879, p. 5. ↑

11. Liverpool Daily Post, 15 Aug 1933, p. 3. ↑

12. Laird, I. Reeds for Warping & Weaving (Manchester: Emmott & Co. Ltd, 1952), pp. 14-15. ↑

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A series of photographs of the Bolton Heald and Reed Works thought to date around 1913 was the subject of a short article that appeared on this website last year. At that time, it was difficult to find anything more than cursory coverage of heald and reed making in historical, technical or craft literature. However, two small volumes have now come to light, both part of the Textile Manufacturer Monographs series and by the same author, Ian Laird:

• Healds for Weaving (1949) Monograph no. 8
• Reeds for Warping and Weaving (1952) Monograph no. 11

A third volume on the ‘Technique of Entering-in Healds and Reeds’ was planned but never realised.

Little is known about the author. He contributed a twelve-part series of articles to the Textile Manufacturer on the subject of ‘Mechanical Warp Stop Motion’ between October 1944 and May 1946. This suggests that he may have been over the age of fifty-one during the war, and not subject to conscription. Given the depth of his knowledge on the subjects he covered, it can be conjectured that he had spent part of his working life in a firm that manufactured industrial weaving equipment. On the other hand, Laird contributed a lengthy series to the Textile Manufacturer between February 1947 and January 1950 on ‘Production Measurement and Production per Man Hour (PMH) in Weaving Sheds’. This points to his experience as a manager where he adopted work-study methods of scientific management, rather than remaining a technician or salesman. In February to March 1950, Laird took up the topic of reeds in the journal, dealing with the inspection of reeds for faults and wear, articles which later formed part of the published volume.¹

In the preface to the volume on reeds, Laird acknowledges the encouragement and assistance of the journal’s editor, Alfred Dawber. Eldest son of a miner and a weaver, Dawber (1908-1977) began work at the age of twelve as a half-timer in the mule spinning rooms at Swan Lane Spinning Company in Bolton. He continued his education in evening classes, leaving industrial work in 1937 to take a position as editorial assistant on the Textile Manufacturer, for which journal he was appointed editor after returning from wartime experience in the Royal Air Force. With his working-class background, Dawber was in a position to appreciate contributions from men who were not formally educated but were possessed of valuable technical knowledge.

Although contributors to the journal were usually identified with their company, trade association, or educational affiliation, Laird was simply presented under his surname and initial. The difficulty of tracing his him in genealogical databases rouses suspicion that the name may be a pseudonym. His true identity might be lightly disguised; semantic similarities suggest the possibility of Ernest Lord, who from 1939 was a director of Joshua Hoyle and Sons Ltd., a firm with extensive weaving capacity running ten mills and holding 12,000 looms.² However, this can only be conjectured at present. The author does hint of his experience with ‘the standard of perfection demanded by rayon yarns’, and presents knowledge of American and Swiss practice with regard to rayon weaving, implying time spent in the rayon sector. This is also brought out in the detail that Laird brings to his subject. For example, a tip on sleying satins notes that the only mode of sleying to prevent unwanted twill lines is to ‘enter the same number of ends per dent as there are ends in a repeat of the weave, minus one end, e.g., 5-shaft satin, sley 4 per dent; 8-shaft satin, sley 7 per dent, and so on.’³

The Textile Manufacturer monographs were attractively presented crown octavo paperbacks of 120 pages with paper wrappers; Laird’s volumes were priced at 4s. 6d., and 5s. respectively. They were of specialist interest and so did not receive widespread notice. The preface of Reeds was signed in April, and it was released by June when it was noted in the Dundee Courier (13 June 1952, p. 6) and the Manchester Guardian (30 June 1952, p. 3); and the publication received a brief but positive review in the Bradford Observer (24 June 1952, p. 3). Surprisingly, the Textile Manufacturer did not promote its own series in the pages of the journal. However, the book received attention in the Textile Mercury in July,⁴ and the Textile Recorder in October.⁵ Both concluded that it would be of considerable value to the practical worker in the weaving shed.

Laird provides only a brief historical overview of reed-making, crediting John Kay with the introduction of reeds with metal dents, and positing that at first these were made with round wire before flattened wire was introduced to improve directional strength and closeness of setting. He then proceeds to describe the operation of the ‘Devonport machine’, claimed as the simplest reed-making device, without further historical treatment. It is not known when the first such reed-making machine was made; it was not patented. However, it is likely that it was introduced during the second quarter of the nineteenth century paralleling the take-off of power loom weaving at that time.

At first, I assumed the machine maker was James Devenport (1802-1876)—later known as Davenport—who came to Rochdale in 1831 to join the machine-making firm of his uncle James Mason.⁶ He soon became manager of the expanding firm, and on the death of Mason in 1859, took charge of the company.⁷ However, a reed maker leaving business in 1856 possessed a ‘reed making machine, furnished with change wheels, &c., nearly new, by Mr. Devenport, of Bradford’, not Rochdale.⁸ This points to the Bradford reed maker Henry Davenport (c1807-1864) who was followed in the business by his son William Davenport (c1834-1892), reed, heald and machine makers of 4 Crampton Street, Little Horton. William’s brothers were in the related trade of machine making.

The reed-making machine developed by the Davenport family remained in use for over a century. In 1869, an advertisement addressed to reed makers sought ‘a first-class Man, who thoroughly understands Devonport’s machine’.⁹ In 1874, reed and heald makers were alerted to the sale of a ‘Heald Machine, by Davenport of Bradford’ indicating continued inventive activity.¹⁰ The widening geographical reach of the reed-making machine is evidenced by an 1890 advertisement from the Lurgan Weaving Company for a ‘Reed Maker, who can finish and is accustomed to the Devonport Machine’;¹¹ and a second-hand ‘Devonport Reed Machine’ was sought by a Pudsey manufacturer in 1909.¹² Laird’s book indicates that the machine was still in use in the 1950s.

Although not mentioned by Laird, the patent literature contributes some more names to reed making history. The American Jeptha Avery Wilkinson (1791-1873) of Providence, Rhode Island came to England where he patented his power-driven reed making machine on 23 August 1817 (no. 4162). He tried to set up his own business in Manchester but is said to have suffered an arson attack by traditional reed makers.¹³ Wilkinson leased the rights to Sharp Roberts and Co., where Richard Roberts (1789-1864) made improvements to the machine around 1821. Another inventor of reed making equipment was the engineer Charles de Bergue (1807-1873); he first patented a treadle-operated machine on 7 November 1840 (no. 8691). The treadles alternately positioned the reed wire and wrapped the twine while a screw device controlled the setting distance. His next patent of 24 July 1845 (no. 10,782) had probably more lasting importance; this machine flattened the reed wire, rounded the edges and polished it ready for use. De Bergue showed machine made reeds at the Great Exhibition and, in addition, steel wire for crinolines. He later specialised in much larger projects: bridge and railway building.

Finally, the stock-in-trade of William Gibbons, reed-maker of Witton was advertised for sale by auction in 1858. This included a set of reed-maker’s rollers by Dawes of Sheffield, and ‘one Reed-making Machine, on an entirely new principle…’¹⁴ Dawes has not yet been traced.

Laird thoroughly explains the pitch-baulk reed that was the type in general use in the 1950s. This was composed of parallel strips of steel wire (called dents), held between pairs of wooden ribs at top and bottom (the baulks), bound tightly to the dents by wrapping with pitched twine which also served to evenly space out the dents (see Fig. 1). Preparation of the wire was a highly skilled task involving flattening, straightening, rounding the corners, filing and polishing. Swedish tempered steel was favoured for the most demanding weaving jobs, like wire cloth weaving. Once materials were prepared, the Davenport reed setting machine was able to able to produce reeds at the rate of 250 to 300 dents per minute: feeding the wire, cutting it, wrapping the spacer twine, pushing the new dent in place and moving on the set distance for the next dent.

Laird’s list of the range of reeds in use is exhaustive and includes types for which all-steel reeds had come into use, especially for silks and fine fabrics exceeding 50 dents per inch. For these, the dents were held in place by wire wrapping and solder. The reeds for the heavy weaving of canvas hose pipes were an engineering job using bolts and spacers.

Laird advises that all reeds should be dated on the end pieces as well as providing the sett number (dents per inch). The handsome reeds Karen Finch ordered for her loom by the Danish maker Lervad are dated ‘12/53’, and have the sett and overall length clearly stamped on the metal ends.¹⁵ However, this advice may have been a counsel of perfection and does not seem to have been widely taken up by British makers. Dating informs the weaver of the length of time reeds have lasted. Writing of industrial weaving, Laird states, ‘The average time service of a weaving reed is from 3 to 7 years, but the actual time depends on the treatment to which the reed is subject, frequency of cleaning and repairing, and the storing methods.’¹⁶ He outlines methods of cleaning both off loom and on the loom, dust and damp being major sources of rust; and with wear inevitable given each reed wire was rubbed by shuttle 20 million times per year in an average mill.¹⁷ Simple brushing and oiling was sufficient for coarse reeds, but fine reeds required in addition pumicing and pegging—the latter done with a sharpened softwood stick formed into teeth that polished the inner surfaces of the reed wires (see Fig. 2).

Inspecting reeds for faults and damages was a crucial task to ensure even weaving, especially with fine cloths and delicate fibres (like silk and rayon). Laird describes photographic and micrographic methods of inspection. However, simpler visual means probably used by generations of weavers are also noted. These rely on using a reed that is known to be evenly set as a grating over the reed being inspected; when held to the light, moiré lines are seen, and breaks in the moiré pattern indicate faults in spacing (see Figs. 3 and 3a). Similar moiré patterns can be observed in the loom by viewing the taught warp threads through the reed. Another method is simply to view the reed from the angle where one wire just blocks the light passing between it and the next wire; any larger spaces will allow light to pass through and be seen as white against black (see Fig. 4). A chapter on the multiple causes of damage, and the types of repair possible is too detailed to review here. Figure 5 shows (at the left) a narrow-weave reed repaired by insertion of new wires. Finally, a chapter on reed calculations explains how to judge the shrinkage that occurs in weaving for the selection of the appropriate reed sett, and also the complexities of conversion between the various localised ‘porter’ systems of reed counts.

A group of reeds salvaged from the long-established gold lace weavers, Hand and Co. of London,¹⁸ some with lace attached, span setts from 16 up to 45 dents per inch (sees Figs. 5-7). All of the pitch-baulk type, the ends are stamped with both the sett number and the total number of dents. Three maker’s names are found on reeds that preserve old-style framing: H. Forster, I. Tillett, and Spencer. The latter is assumed to be the firm of Hartley Spencer of Burnley. Hartley Spencer (1827-1910), son of a power loom weaver, founded the reed and heald-making firm in the 1860s, which was continued by his son James Spencer (1858-1937), and grandsons Fred Spencer (1883-1969) and Hartley Spencer (1886-1970).

Observations made during a visit by the Nelson Textile Society to Hartley Spencer Ltd. in November 1937 were published in the local newspaper, giving us a non-specialist’s description of the reed-making process:

We then proceeded to the reed making room. We saw the wire, which was round, being passed through different mangle machines which flattened it and trimmed it to the required width and thickness, then was passed through polishing machines, until every trace of roughness or sharpness was taken off. It was then ready for the reed maker. His machine resembled a long lathe. From the back to the head-stock, he had prepared the baulks, which were long strips of wood, half moon in shape, two for top and two for bottom, to hold the reed wire. These woods were set the requisite distance apart for the depth of the reed wanted. At the front of the head-stock, twine treated with melted pitch, was passed around the baulks. When the machine was running, the reed wire fed from a drum behind, was passed between the baulks, and when through, turned over, twine wrapped around, and then beaten up, and the wire cut off, and the baulks drawn forward the distance determined by change wheels, the whole operation being done so rapidly, that one wag made the remark, “Why, it's a lot faster than weaving.”

From this machine the reed was then cut to the width for the particular width of loom intended for, then thicker wires inserted at the ends, with the counts of the reeds stamped on them. Then they were wrapped with coloured paper round the baulks. Manufacturers specify their particular colours to facilitate finding reeds of particular counts when in their racks etc. The reed is then hand handled by a finisher, who ensures that the reed is as near perfect as humanly possible.¹⁹

The more we know about reeds, the more their profound importance becomes apparent. Laird estimated that over 400,000 reeds were in everyday use in the looms of Great Britain in 1950. Quality cloth production relied upon their precision making, and replacement when worn out. Here, we can marvel even more at the cane reeds in use for centuries before the introduction of steel wires, and the means by which such natural materials were ‘engineered’. A closer inspection of Karen Finch’s cane reeds must await a further article.

Dr Philip A. Sykas March 2023

Footnotes

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1. Laird, I. ‘Uneven spacing of reed wires’, Textile Manufacturer, 76(902) (February), pp. 69-72; 76(903) (March), pp. 129-133; ‘Loom motions for operating the reed’, 76 (905) (May), pp. 231-233; ↑

2. Skinner’s Cotton Trade Directory of the World 1941-42, 19^th ed. (Manchester: Thomas Skinner & Co., 1941), p. 292. ↑

3. Laird (1952), p. 64. ↑

4. ‘Textile Bookshelf’, Textile Mercury, 127 (11 July 1952), p. 69. ↑

5. ‘For Your Bookshelf’, Textile Recorder, 70 (October), p. 94. ↑

6. Rochdale Observer, 7 Feb 1914, p. 14. ↑

7. By 1861, the firm employed 490 men and 191 boys at its Globe Works in Drake Street. He acquired considerable wealth, building a mansion on a large estate in 1866, and leaving around £180,000 in his will. ↑

8. Preston Chronicle, 20 Sep 1856, p. 8. ↑

9. Manchester Courier, 8 Sep 1869, p. 2. ↑

10. Manchester Courier, 25 Mar 1874, p. 2. ↑

11. Lurgan Times, 19 Jul 1890, p. 3. ↑

12. Manchester Courier, 21 Jun 1909, p. 2. ↑

13. Elkinson, Rev Israel. Memoirs of the Wilkinson Family in America (Jacksonville IL: David & Penneman, 1869), biography XX. ↑

14. Blackburn Standard, 3 Mar 1858, p. 1. ↑

15. Anders Lervad and Son of Askov, Jutland, began making looms in 1895, using kiln-dried Danish beech finished to furniture standards. ↑

16. Laird (1952), p. 65. ↑

17. Laird (1952), p. 85. ↑

18. In 2001, Matthew Hand and Co. merged with Stanley Lock to become Hand and Lock. ↑

19. ‘Interesting Visit to Messrs. Hartley Spencer’s of Burnley’, Nelson Leader, 3 December 1937, p. 13. ↑

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It is five years since Karen died on 15 April 2018 but we still miss her powerful presence. In that sense what we wrote when she died:

"We shall forever miss the extraordinary person Karen was, whose smile and enthusiasm for life shone a radiant glow over even the most mundane”.

remains true. We try to live our lives as she did – that seems to be the best way of showing our enduring love. Her apartment in our house remains very much as she left it, with her books, box files of writings and subject papers, journal collections, textile and slide collections and correspondence files still in place. We consult her box files frequently and wish that others could enjoy the rich mix of material which so well reflect her diverse interests and her ability to make unique connections. Once again we extend our invitation to anyone who would like to consult her archive with us while it remains in our house. At the moment Dr Philip Sykas is cataloguing the textile collection which my mother assessed as being above all a teaching resource. Some of Karen’s friends and colleagues have remained in contact, which is just wonderful for us, and I know Karen would have felt very grateful for that. Sadly old friends have died in the intervening period, the loss of Madeleine Ginsburg and Anne Thomas from our lives is keenly felt. The loss of Karen’s youngest brother, Steen, who died recently in Australia, has left a sad gap in the family. In May 2021 we celebrated Karen’s centenary with many contributions to the website from a variety of people who knew Karen. We continue republishing Karen’s writings on her website. We are slowly publishing the series of lectures she gave to her students each year. Karen’s lectures included a great many slides. She loved the visual side of her lectures and we have enjoyed the quirkiness of some of those selected. We are also grateful for other contributions which keep the website a living repository and not just an archive. We hope they will keep on coming. In the future we aim to draw together what Karen wrote and spoke about regarding her experiences in the Second World War in Copenhagen. Her very close friend, Peder Mørup, shared those years with her and his life story will be included. He was in the police force as well as in the Resistance and survived incarceration in the Buchenwald concentration camp. We believe these experiences informed Karen’s life in significant ways. Katrina Finch


Karen’s birthday on May 8th is shared with mine, although there was never any doubt about whose celebration took precedence. For example, her 80th birthday was staged on a river cruise between Hammersmith and Hampton Court Palace. Karen was wearing a small crown and my job was limited to providing a keyboard accompaniment to her grandson’s rap comparing her to one of the Three Norns, or weavers of fate, of Viking myth. I complained at the time about this inequality, and vowed that when I had my 80th birthday, Karen’s 109th would be a very low-key affair. Unfortunately, Karen only made it to 96, but even though she has now joined the Norns in the Norse pantheon, I can’t help feeling that, with a website dedicating to honouring her birthdays, she is still putting me in the shade. Alan Cohen [gallery ids="1727,1757,1760" orderby="menu_order" row_height=250 height_deviation=100] [Read more]

Last year we announced that we would be marking Karen’s centenary on May 8 2021 by publishing new material on the site. We haven’t published as much as we would have liked but the arrival of what would have been Karen’s 101st has acted as a spur. We are pleased to draw attention to:

• A new essay by Philip Sykas on heald and reed making
• A contribution by Tove Engelhardt Mathiassen on Gerda Henning, who taught Karen weaving at the Kunsthåndværkerskolen, the Danish Art School in Copenhagen

We will also shortly be publishing the second of Karen’s lectures from her course at the TCC at Hampton Court, focusing on the history and uses of wool. [Read more]

Katrina Finch suggested this article for the website and I will take on the task. In the beginning of the 1990s, I met Karen Finch for the first time, and in the years to come we met once or twice a year in Denmark or elsewhere, for instance in 1997 the memorable conference for the 50th anniversary of Platt Hall in Manchester. Karen was always so interesting and kind. She connected people in her own subtle way. [Read more]

As important as healds and reeds are to the weaving process, little has been documented about their history or production. Alfred Barlow cursorily encapsulated the developments in heald making: ‘Healds were formerly made by hand by means of a reel, &c., and many are still formed so. […] Heald-making machines are often of very complicated and ingenious construction’. Alfred Spitzli pronounced the metal heddle to have superseded those made of twine, but admitted: ‘Twine harnesses are still in use; the twine is heavily coated to make it smooth and durable’. [Read more]

In many ways my auntie Karen was like a female Peter Pan. Very modern and with the capacity for seizing the right moment in her own very visionary, clever way. What she believed in, she aimed for, and turned into reality. And like Peter Pan her arena was the whole world, with all the people who believed in her and her creative and timely skills as a professional weaver, and who witnessed her inventing textile conservation as a new worldwide profession. [Read more]

On the 100th birthday of my aunt Karen Finch née Sinding Møller, I would like to honour her achievements and independent spirit. I was fortunate to have Aunt Karen in London, and more so because she shared her home with family and friends. To me, these sentences still resound with the magic of holidays, a sense of freedom, and the inspirational sensibility that was Karen’s. I grew up in the 1960s and 70s in rural Denmark, in the village of Rødding near Meldgaard, my mother and Karen’s ancestral home. In 1910 my grandmother’s three brothers emigrated to the USA, and a generation later my mother as well as Karen and some of my uncles married into the anglophone world. A global outlook became part of their DNA. One of these fabled mythical elders was Karen, my mother’s older sister by 10 years. Karen’s professional training hailed from the Danish design tradition. It was founded in the 1920s and 30s by, among others, her teacher at the Danish Design School, Professor Kaare Klint and the librarian Gerda Henning. They were part of a group of teacher-artists who established an uncompromising product syntax, insisting on Scandinavian aesthetics, quality materials, functionality, discreet colour schemes, and a finish resulting from endless experiments in the lab. It was, and still is, a less-is-more approach, exploring the operational and creative ranges of a timeless concept. Karen’s generation embraced these imperatives and identified with this aesthetic. A visit to 7 Western Gardens revealed the unmistakable signs, for instance the incorporation of handicraft traditions into daily life - the wooden kitchen utensils, Karen’s woven organic textiles on the walls, the dress codes, the amber jewellery in Scandinavian heritage designs, etc. Karen and Norman’s private and professional London home integrated Nordic traditions under the umbrella of textile design, weaving, and conservation. Karen’s Copenhagen training and tradition enabled her to transform her and Norman’s home in 7 Western Gardens into a powerhouse of cutting-edge developments in textile conservation. Her integrated studio became a platform for her research publications of standard works and her education of new generations of textile conservationists. In 1975 Karen established the Textile Conservation Centre – first at home in Ealing, then in three grace and favour apartments at Hampton Court, and eventually at Glasgow University. In the late 1970s, whenever I visited 7 Western Gardens, this development was not immediately evident. However, Karen’s achievements were always already in the making. She shaped and shared knowledge in formative ways that grounded her students in the textile conservation tradition. Her insights were characterised by the expert’s deep and methodical understanding. She seemed to have a constant awareness of professional issues and a continual flow of inspiration. Moreover, Karen’s strong commitment and dedication were propelled by a force she shared with my mother, my aunts, and their brothers. Like Karen, they were subjects-in-process and always ready to pass on their knowledge, as well as a deep sense of identity and purpose in life. Surrounded by such solids, my siblings and I felt we had access to extraordinary resources, centred on the anglophone world. In this context, Aunt Karen was a key figure. Amongst my earliest memories are Christmas and birthday gifts from Karen – often interactive constructs from London museum giftshops or books and catalogues of exhibitions at the British Museum, the V&A, etc. Her gifts were windows onto contemporary as well as ancient cultures, and they opened our eyes to the complex issues of museumization. Other early recollections include regular visits to 7 Western Gardens in Ealing, where introductions to British culture awaited: food, customs, and language - especially the idiomatic expressions of the embroiderers in Karen’s workshops. Their language and eccentric ways were fascinating, as were Karen’s explanations of various restoration projects: rolled up tapestries from old houses arrived in Karen’s workshops to undergo cleansing chemical baths and restorative needlework. Under skilful hands, hunting scenes and medieval dress codes would come to light and reveal narratives, hierarchies, and aesthetics of bygone ages. Karen’s book Caring for Textiles outlines her expertise in preserving a diverse range of fabrics and fibres. This knowledge was essential in her textile conservation projects. As a teenager visiting 7 Western Gardens, it gradually dawned on me that a wide range of methods were applied in the procedures administered by the embroiderers. Moreover, the textiles were often accompanied by stories of provenance, condition, and prospective life in museums or private homes. In old Danish, the word "conservation" was another term for marriage. From the moment the young Karen engaged in conservation of the medieval embroidery on display in Rødding church, she was wedded to textiles. The alchemists spoke of such chemical weddings, metaphors for focused work that graduated to new stages. To my mind, Karen was such an alchemist, whose lifelong projects created a new school of textile conservation. Aunt Karen was an authentic source of joy and affection. At every warm welcome, there was a feeling that embodied a code. In Karen and Norman’s home, it was understood that there was more to life than housework – as evidenced by Karen’s workshops and substantial library. I quickly grasped the concept: there was a place in London to go to with few conventions, lots of freedom, independent spirits, and an always resourceful sense of humour – especially Norman’s signature jokes. Every other year or so, 7 Western Gardens would for a week become our home away from home - steeped in cultural knowledge of London. Most museums were known to Karen and she would always have tips and recommendations on interesting exhibitions and events. Having 7 Western Gardens as an occasional secure base, enabled immersion into the sights and multifaceted experiences of London. Karen gave us a profound feeling of being much loved and of receiving a great gift: a stay in London with exotic experiences of multicultural as well as British foundation icons – the Tutankhamun exhibition (1972) at the British Museum, a trip to Stonehenge or browsing the bookstores on Charing Cross Road followed by tea and cheesecake or a Guinness at the pub with Norman. Other such moments were the Rothko Room at the Tate Gallery, performances of Troilus and Cressida or Cats, buying a leather jacket in Portobello Road or Karen’s OBE and her first speech at the Royal Society of Arts. Aunt Karen gave us London, and in a sense, it was hers to give. Her insights into British culture and museums as well as the history of London, provided us children and teenagers with a sense that we were close to something unique, conceptualized by Karen’s knowledge, her presence and strong base in London. Returning, full of impressions, to 7 Western Gardens after a day out, there was always Karen’s smile – welcoming and dispensing megawatts of here-and-now attention that sustained the feeling that we were greatly loved. A visit to 7 Western Gardens involved a loan of the key to the house. Whenever we left for a day of adventure, Karen would look up from her work, beam a smile, and say: "Enjoy yourselves and take care." We did and we are the richer for it. Thank you, Karen, for your generous spirit and for sharing your home, passing on your knowledge, and lending us your London A to Z maps. They were much used, and we returned to Denmark enriched by a touch of cosmopolitan sensibility. At Katrina and Alan’s wedding, Doris [Bradley], an embroiderer at the Textile Conservation Centre, ended her speech with the statement: "It was Karen who did it!" and indeed it was. Karen did it, and with her drive and aesthetics she worked many other wonders, often ahead of her time. I will always be grateful for her attentive presence and insightful conversations, as well as for the fascinating and vibrant London base she gave me and younger generations in the family in our formative years. James Bulman-May, PhD Karen’s nephew [Read more]

To: Karen; Alan; Ellen-May and Ayesha (who is celebrating her 40th birthday). 8th May is a magical date in our family calendar, believing as we do that sharing a birthday date confers a special relationship between people and families. Despite not being with us, Karen remains at the heart of this day of celebration. Happy birthdays! [Read more]