Antique loom – Exquisite Machinery

Of all the pieces in my collection, this little loom may be the one I treasure the most. In part, because it is a particularly colorful and complete example of a rare loom, but also because of the sheer pleasure of weaving on it.

This style loom, designed for weaving bands (also called ribbons and tapes), generally is referred to as a “Leksand loom,” because it was made only in the Leksand area of Sweden. Its design is unique.

“*At the Loom,” Helmer Masolle (1884-1969)*

To start with, the weaver works from the side of the warp. While this horizontal style is unusual these days, it must have been quite common in the 15^th century.

Medieval manuscripts show many varieties of sideways-style band looms,

*Paris Bibl. Mazaring, Vierge tissant dans le Temple*

some with tablets,

*15th century France, Houghton Library, Cambridge, MA*

some with floating rigid heddles,

*Eny Newe Kunstlick Moetdelboech: P Quentel, Cologne, 1532, Metropolitan Museum of Art*

and, at least one, with what we now call an inkle-style set up (“inkle” is believed to be a corruption of the 16^th century English word “linckle,” meaning “band” or “tape”).

*Le Livre de Bonnes Moeurs de Jacques Legrand, 15th century*

While horizontal band looms were used in several parishes in Sweden,

only in Leksand did looms have the added feature of a small wooden rigid heddle attached to a foot treadle.

With this ingenious design, the pattern threads run through the holes in the rigid heddle.

One set of background threads runs through the heddle slots and the other set runs over a corrugated rod and through half-heddles.

*This photo shows the new heddle that came with my loom, the rubber band kept it from tipping side-to-side*

It functions similarly to a double-slotted (Sunna or pattern) heddle in backstrap weaving. Using the foot treadle, the pattern threads can be raised together, all in one plane, separate from the background threads.

*With the heddle in the raised position*

Elevating and isolating the pattern threads this way allows the weaver to easily pick out the band patterns with a band knife.

It is a brilliant innovation for fast, efficient weaving of complicated band patterns.

*With the band knife in the right hand picking patterns and beating, the left hand is free to pass the bobbin through the sheds*

And the prolific Leksand weavers took advantage of these little looms to produce stunning bands in great quantities. Most often red and white or black and white, the Leksand bands were woven with a seemingly never-ending variety of patterns, some dating back to the thirteenth century. Foulkes, p. 16. The bands were used for hats, belts, straps, ties, laces, and decorative edging.

*Some typcial Leksand bands*—*photo by Kirsi Manni*

In Sweden, Kirsi Manni is a rich source of information about Leksand looms and bands, including invaluable knowledge learned from local older weavers.

“Band Weaving in the Cowshed,” Leksand, C. Gellerstedt 1875–according to Kirsi, band-weaving in Leksand often was a social event, where young women could gather unchaperoned with their friends and young men

Kirsi kindly welcomed me to her home in Sweden last summer where she collects spinning wheels, textile tools, and these rare looms to preserve them for future generations.

*Some of Kirsi’s collection–all are different and few have the original heddles*

For those on Facebook, Kirsi started a “Leksand Loom” group, in which she has shared some lovely artwork, including from local painter, Sam Uhrdin (1886-1964), depicting women weaving at their band looms.

*A Leksand Band Weaver, by Sam Uhrdin, 1945*

Photos of Kirsi’s looms, and much more, can be found in Kirsi’s excellent article on Leksand looms in the Spinning Wheel Sleuth’s Handloom Supplement #23.

Given that these looms were only made in Leksand, it is not surprising that they seldom turn up anywhere but Sweden. There are only a handful of which I am aware in the United States, so I am incredibly fortunate to have one (thank you Florence).

My loom was featured in The Spinning Wheel Sleuth’s Handloom Supplement #4. The article’s author, Marion Satchwell, found the loom at an antique show in Florida in the 1990s.

It came with a wee bit of black and white woven tape, which was passed on with the loom. That tape was made with what looks like fine sewing thread for the background and silk pattern threads.

*Bobbins and the bit of band that came with the loom*

The Leksand looms were made by local carpenters and ranged from simple to ornate. The carpenter who made mine was skilled and made the loom as lovely as it is functional.

The colorful paint has faded, but continues to highlight the loom’s turnings and design.

I especially love the upright between the ratcheted spools, with reminds me of a woman with arms that lower and raise to keep the spools properly in place.

The leashes for attaching the warp ends are secured through holes in the spools.

The treadle is attached to the rigid heddle by a curved piece of wood provided by a perfectly imperfect sapling in a Swedish wood, bent by some force of nature, now living on in a Leksand loom.

It is hinged to the treadle and has a slit at the top for the rigid heddle.

A lower bar holds the half heddles and the corrugated top bar keeps the upper warp threads spread out, making for easier shed changes.

The frame has a convenient carved-out storage box, full of bobbins,

with a rotating lid with letters, probably “NA,” scratched on top.

Whoever NA was, she did a lot of weaving,

because there is heavy wear on the lower cross bar and treadle—with a deep hollow made by a smallish shoe heel on the treadle.

How I wish she could have transmitted some of her knowledge to me. Because it was a real challenge to figure out how to best set up and use this loom.

There are no manuals for weaving on Leksand looms and I did not know Kirsi then. After months of research, head scratching, messages to and from people who might be able to help, experimentation, and good dose of serendipity—I went from confused to enamored.

My first stroke of luck came right after I brought the loom home when a Swedish band knife came up for sale on eBay.

About a month later, another three came up for sale together and no one bid on them (but me, eventually).

*The three knives I have now–I gave one of the original four to Kirsi*

Since then, I have only run across one other for sale, so I was extremely lucky to find these right after I got the loom. Apparently, many of the knives of this style were made in Mora, Sweden, often with dates and initials inscribed on the blades. Each of mine is different, perhaps giving the weaver some choice in size and weight—a particular balance and heft.

But all were designed for hours of weaving—comfortable in the hand, smooth, and nicely weighted, so that a weaver can continuously pick, slide, and whack/whack almost effortlessly. They feel amazing—the wooden handles and brass blades are incredibly smooth—I love to run my hands over them. The oldest has deep grooves in the blade from angling and lifting the shed to transfer the bobbin.

Using them gives me a feeling of intimate connection with their previous owners, knowing we have shared a common experience—the specific fit and feel of the wood in the hand, the certain way the blade tip picks up the threads, the smooth slide and angling of the shed, the force of the beat—unique to each knife.

They are marvelous tools. For more about them, Lois Swales wrote an article in the Spinning Wheel Sleuth Handloom Supplement #16. As a bonus, her article includes a photo of one of Louise’s looms, which appears to be a twin to mine–so likely by the same maker. According to Louise, that loom had been imported from Sweden by a California decorator for use as a bathroom towel rack. Such an indignity! Fortunately, it survived and is weaving again.

Louise’s loom, like mine, had lost its original rigid heddle. Not surprising, because they are quite delicate and easily broken or lost—in fact, it is rare to find one with an intact heddle. My loom had a new heddle when I got it. It was nicely made, but only big enough for 29 pattern threads, and it wobbled from side to side. Since many of the traditional Leksand bands used 33 pattern threads, I wanted to find someone who could make me one close to the originals. Not an easy task. While researching possibilities, what should appear on eBay but an antique Leksand rigid heddle?

I was gobsmacked—they NEVER come up for sale. More loom serendipity. Because, when it arrived, it fit into the treadle bar slot as if made for it and the two holes in the inserted portion lined up exactly with the holes in the treadle bar.

At the time, I ignorantly did not think much of that, assuming that there must have been a certain uniformity in the rigid heddles make in Leksand. Ha. Since then, all of the Leksand rigid heddles that I have seen have been different—nothing uniform about them.

Which makes me think that I may have lucked into a rigid heddle made by the maker of my loom. How weird would that be?

*A previous owner marked the center of the heddle with a small black line*—*I thank her for that!*

I am not an experienced or particularly proficient band weaver, but with this loom and antique heddle, I can easily weave the complicated 33 pattern bands found in Leksand. I do not know if the way I weave is historically accurate, but no matter. It is fun, rhythmic, very tactile, and satisfying. This loom is a rare link to a very specific time and place that I am fortunate to be able to enjoy. Thank you to everyone in Leksand and beyond who saved these looms, especially those who had no idea what the looms were, but appreciated their unique beauty.

For more information on these looms:

Foulkes, Susan J., Weaving Patterned Bands, Schiffer Publishing, Ltd., Altglen, PA 2018, pp. 13-16.

Manni, Kirsi, “Band Looms from Leksand, Sweden,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth Handloom Supplement, Issue 23, June 2022, 2-4

Satchwell, Marion, “A Swedish Ribbon Loom,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth Handloom Supplement, Issue 4, April 2001, p. 12.

Swales, Lois, “Band-Loom Weaving Tools,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth Handloom Supplement, Issue 16, June 2014, pp. 6-8.

Thanks to Susan Foulke’s blog, “The Durham Weaver,” for many of the manuscript pictures and to Kirsi Manni for the artwork from Leksand.

This ingenious little floor loom caught my imagination and started me down the road of tape loom weaving. Designed for weaving tapes or bands, this style was most often found in New England—often in table top versions with hand treadles.

This particular loom was part of the American Textile History Museum (ATHM) collection in Lowell, Massachusetts. After the museum closed in 2016, much of its collection went to other museums and historical societies around the country. For example, some went to Marshfield School of Weaving’s wonderful Textile Equipment Collection, cataloged here: /https://marshfieldschoolofweaving.omeka.net/ The items that didn’t find such homes, however, were sold, bit by bit, at a series of general antique auctions near Worcester, Massachusetts.

I drove more than five hours each way to attend several of the auctions, both excited and disturbed by them. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see and buy an amazing variety of historic textile tools.

At the same time, it was deeply upsetting to see some pieces—especially those donated to the museum by collector Joan Cummer—garner little interest at auction, sometimes selling for give-away prices. And all the auctioned pieces, including Cummer’s collection, are now scattered to who-knows-where, provenance and historical significance lost.

Fortunately, all of the ATHM items are marked with a distinct set of acquisition numbers, leading with the year of acquisition, so they can be identified as once having a home there.

Although these items will no longer be available to educate and spark interest in the public, a group of people who cherish and use antique spinning wheel and looms attended the auction—in person, and remotely—determined to rescue as many as possible. Those items will be loved, appreciated, and, often, put back to their original use as marvelous working tools.

My first auction acquisition was a gorgeous great wheel—in perfect condition–that I had absolutely no intention of buying. It came up early in the auction and no one bid on it. No one. Silence. I actually felt insulted for the wheel, standing there in all its glory—unwanted. I couldn’t stand it and bid $10. Gavel down–it was mine.

Scribe lines on the table at the beater entrance.

This loom was a different story. I’m a weaver and small antique looms don’t come around very often. I was very excited to find two of these floor looms up for auction one night. The other had two foot pedals and more polished construction than this one. But I was quickly outbid on that one and had to nervously wait until much later in the evening for this one to come up. The late hour probably worked to my advantage and it was mine. My first, but not last, tape loom.

I had to replace the leather shaft holder—the original was there, but broken, and replace some washers and the wing nut on the warp beam.

It probably had a handle at the top that is now missing.

But other than that, it was all set up and ready to go.

There are two shafts and eight metal heddles, with a little beater and see-saw foot treadle.

There are tiny metal teeth and metal bar holding the front beam in place

and a small wooden slat in a slot held by a rotating tab to secure the warp.

The back beam has a leather piece nailed to the beam with a series of holes to secure the warp. I lashed a tiny dowel onto the leather piece, which allows me to easily attach more warp threads.

I have been using the loom mostly for weaving little tapes with odds and ends of my homespun linen from homegrown flax. A bit hairy on the loom, but they smooth out beautifully.

The loom naturally weaves a very weft-faced tape. So, I put multiple threads in each heddle and usually an alternating color suspended between heddles that I can manipulate to make a colored dash in the tape.

These looms are a bit of a mystery. They are thought to date from the late 19^th century, with some speculation that they may have been used to make oil lamp wicks. That makes sense to me. They are very efficient and easy to use, enabling someone to crank out wicks quite quickly. And the loom design is perfectly suited for weaving a wick-style weft-faced band. I love using this loom. Although it no longer educates in a museum, I hope that by sharing it here, it may still serve to illuminate a little part of our textile history.