An Inspiring Needle

Back in April, I reviewed two books by ChronoCopia Publishing:  A Handbook of Men's Clothing and Handbook of the 15th Century and A Handbook of Women's Clothing of the 15th Century.  Daniel Serra of ChronoCopia Publishing also asked me to review the following book about nålbinding:

Pasanen, Mervi.  With One Needle:  How to Nålbind. (ChronoCopia Publishing AB 2019).

Mervi Pasanen originally published this book in Finnish. When it came out, I lamented the fact that I wouldn't be able to read it, even if I could afford it.  With One Needle  makes that content available to English speakers, and I have been sent a free copy in order to write this review.  

I am always on the lookout for new books about nålbinding, because I have struggled for some time to learn the art, and am continuing to struggle to do so.  Though I have learned enough to nålbind an undistinguished cap for myself, I have failed several times now at making mittens or socks, and every time I take the craft up again after a hiatus, I have to re-learn the basics nearly from scratch.  So when I was asked to review With One Needle, I hoped that Mervi's book would finally help me reach the level of understanding I need to succeed at retaining basic nålbinding skills once and for all.

The first thing one notices about this book is that the production level is very high.  The paper is glossy and of good quality, the font is attractive and easily readable, and there are many clear and beautiful color photographs.  The cover photograph shown above gives a good idea of how much artistry was devoted to the photographs in the book.

As I read the book, I tried to look at it in terms of how it would be viewed by a total novice to nålbinding, which was not difficult since I'm not that far from being a novice anyway.  And although Mervi's book includes a tutorial for several different nålbinding starts, it's not really the best source available for teaching people who are new to the art how to begin nålbinding. Why?  Largely because there are not enough photographs of every step of the process.  If, like me, you have trouble telling right from left when looking at an object and also have poor visualization skills, you will find that Mervi's photo essay on nålbinding starts does not give you *quite* enough information to advance your game.

But even though Mervi's book may not be the best way for a total beginner--or even a serial beginner like myself--to learn nålbinding does not mean that the book is of no value to nålbinding enthusiasts.  To the contrary, there are many useful things a discerning reader with an interest in nålbinding can take away from Mervi's book.  Here are some of my takeaways from the book:

1.     Inspiration.  With One Needle is packed with dozens of clear, full color photographs demonstrating techniques and interesting projects.  Just finishing the book made me want to get my needle out and start looking for colorful yarn to attempt one of her projects.

2.     Useful Techniques.  From Mervi's book I gleaned the realization that the same basic technique can be used to put a thumb onto a mitten or a heel on a sock.  Mervi also gives the best photographic description I have seen of how to do a Russian join, which is a technique for incorporating a new piece of yarn onto the working yarn.

3.    Helpful Facts.  When I was first exploring nålbinding, I found a photograph of an archaeological find of a thigh-length, nålbinded stocking, and I wondered how such items could be made since nålbinded works are not very stretchy compared to knits.  It turns out that you have to take a lot of precise measurements of the various parts of ankle and leg that the sock must fit and thus tailor it to the wearer.  The book also says that certain stitches are stretchier than others, and thus may be more appropriate for high socks.  Mervi also provides useful measurement and proportion information for the construction of socks in general.

4.   New Stitches.  Mervi's book contains tutorials for learning a number of different variations on Finnish stitch that I've never seen anywhere else.

5.   Expert Techniques.  Have you ever seen photographs of modern nålbinded garments that appear to have a braided edge?  This book contains directions how to do that technique as well.

In short, I recommend this book most strongly for nålbinders of intermediate level--people who have made enough garments using nålbinding that they are looking for new projects to expand their skill with the technique.  However, even for people like me who are still struggling, the book is a fun and thought-provoking read, and an inspiration to increase my skills so that I can try some of the more challenging projects in the future.

Where Does The Needle Point?

World's Oldest Needle.  (Pictures:  Russia 24, Vesti)

From The Siberian Times today comes a dramatic discovery:  a 50,000-year-old bone needle that is 7 cm (about 2 3/4 inches) long, that was recently found in a cave in the Altai Mountains in Siberia.

In one way, that fact is not so surprising. Because it has been established that human body lice were already common about 170,000 years ago, and that body lice cannot live on a person who is not wearing clothing, it follows that clothing, and the tools necessary to make it, go at least that far back in time. (To get an idea of where we fit into the story, modern humans, which bear the scientific name Homo sapiens sapiens, go back approximately 200,000 years.)

Illustration showing bracelet find and reconstruction
of its original appearance.  Image credit:
Vera Salnitskaya, Anastasia Abdulmanova

What no one appears to have talked about, before now, is the impact of extinct members of genus Homo or even subspecies of Homo sapiens upon the history of clothing.

The needle was found in a place called the Denisova Cave, which is associated, not with modern man, but with an extinct subspecies called the Denisovans or homo sapiens altai.

In other words, it was not made by the species we think of as ourselves.

Archaeologists have been exploring the Denisova Cave for quite a while now and are far from finished.  The article includes pictures of other finds, made in 2008.  This find included a broken stone bracelet made from a polished, deep green piece of chlorite about 40,000 years ago.  This precisely-shaped band has a round hole neatly drilled in the middle--perhaps for a pendant of some kind on a leather strap.

Nor were the Denisovans necessarily the only Homo genuses in the clothing history picture.  The Siberian Times article calls attention to the fact that the existence of this bracelet demonstrates that the Denisovans were more technologically skilled than the Neanderthals, who were roughly contemporaneous with them.  More importantly, other discoveries from the Denisova Cave include DNA evidence that, at least in Siberia, homo sapiens sapiens interbred with both the Neanderthals and the Denisovans.

What is of interest to me are the implications of these needle and jewelry finds on costume history. One implication is that the fashioning of clothing and adornments may predate homo sapiens sapiens. Perhaps more importantly, the presence of these items confirmed that homo sapiens altai shared our need for clothing and our love of adornment--and makes it much harder not to consider these species to be as human as we are.   As the excavations at the Denisova Cave progress, the time is coming when we will need to reevaluate and expand the history of human clothing.

The Spiral Eye

At the suggestion of the Dreamstress, I went looking on the Internet a few days ago for information about what sewing needles looked like, and how they were made, after the medieval period.

Alas, I didn't find much detailed information about how sewing needles were manufactured after the Middle Ages, but I did find some interesting facts.

The first of these is that, at least in modern times, there is another eye-shape--the "spiral" eye.  The eye on these needles is actually a kind of a hooked shape, like an upside-down question mark, with an opening on the side of the eye over which you slide the thread.  That way, you don't have to waste time poking the needle at a narrow eye to thread it.  The inventor of this kind of needle, Pam Turner, discusses this innovation, including something of its history, on her website, where you can order her needles, though she has licensed the design and such needles are available elsewhere as well.

I also learned how modern long-eyed needles are made today by machine. (Ms. Turner describes this process on her website too.)  As I described before, medieval needles were made in one of two ways; by punching a round hole in one end of a piece of wire to serve as an eye (and sharpening the other end, of course) or by dividing one end of a piece of wire into two parts, and just soldering them together at the top end to make a long eye. 

Today's needles are made in pairs. A single piece of wire, the length of two needles together, is sharpened on both ends, and the long eyes are stamped in the middle. The two needles are then separated, cleaned, hardened, tempered, and polished. EnTaCo Ltd., a respected British company which claims to have been making needles since 1730, describes the process here and a video they produced showing the process can be found here. EnTaCo's website also gives a bit of post-medieval needle history (without giving details of the changes in the physical manufacturing process, alas!) here. Interestingly, the points are ground by hand (in groups of about 100, using a special holder, but hand-ground nonetheless).  Most of EnTaCo's lines (and probably most other modern needles, for all I know) are nickel-plated steel, but EnTaCo does gold and platinum needles as well, for folk with nickel allergies and for use on delicate fabrics; supposedly the precious metal plated needles glide more smoothly.

I found all of this information interesting, even if it falls short of providing a complete history of the sewing needle.  Maybe I'll dig into this topic more sometime.

Eye of the Needle Revisited

For many years, I assumed that the design of modern needles--with a long, slit eye on one end--was the epitome of needle design, and that earlier needles had more primitive, round eyes. I also thought that during the Migration Period and the Viking age, most sewing needles were made from bone, and were significantly thicker than modern needles. 

Needles from Coppergate, Rogers, p. 1782

As I read more about period costume and period textile implements and techniques, I learned that the first statement was wrong.  Although bone needles have been found in Viking sites, many of them likely would have been used for crafts such as nalbinding, and not for sewing ordinary clothes.  I also learned, largely from Eva Andersson's Tools for Textile Production from Birka and Hedeby, which describes a large number of Viking era finds from different locations, that most Viking age sewing needles were small, very thin, and made from iron.  That's why many of them did not survive--they rusted to powder in the graves.  Only  the surviving finds of needles inside needle cases, and large collections of needles such as the Roman era find at Magdalensberg , served to give the lie to the "bone needle"  myth.

In reading the copy of Penelope Walton Rogers's book Textile Production at 16-22 Coppergate that I recently downloaded, I learned that finds of needles with long, slit eyes were eventually displaced, in time by punched, round-eyed needles!  Rogers sums up the evidence this way:

There are two types of needle, one with a round eye which has been punched, the other with a long eye made by welding together the tips of a Y-shaped shaft (pp. 542-7, ibid.). The round-eyed needles become increasingly common over the 10th to 11th centuries and have almost ousted the long-eyed needles by the medieval period. It is difficult to establish whether this is a general trend, as relatively few iron needles have been recovered from other sites, but the same two methods of manufacture were noted in twelve iron needles from 8th to 12th century Fishergate, York (pp.1271-2, AY 17/9); only punched eyes were recorded in the iron needles from medieval Eastgate, Beverley (Goodall 1992, 152-3).

Rogers, p.  1781 (emphasis supplied).  Copper alloy needles were also  found at Coppergate; they too might be made with round or long eyes, and as with the iron needles, round eyes became more common over time.  Id. p. 1782.  Interestingly, none of the Coppergate needles look as modern as the long-eyed needles from Magdalensberg, but all of them are fine enough to sew with fabric and thread as fine as that commonly used for clothing today.  The picture below shows a number of both types of sewing needles found at Coppergate.

It is an interesting question why the eye-manufacturing technique changed.  Perhaps there was an increased demand for needles and the welding technique used to make long-eyed needles was too slow and cumbersome to keep up with demand.   Whatever the reason, it is not true that long-eyed needles are necessarily the product of a technologically more advanced culture than are round-eyed needles; I'll never make that particular mistake again.