Every semester, BGC organizes Materials Days for its students to introduce us to various materials and the process and techniques of turning those materials into objects of interest—like the ones we study in our classes. A few weeks ago, on February 22, Elena Kanagy-Loux, a BGC PhD candidate who is not only a master lacemaker and the cofounder of Brooklyn Lace Guild but also an outstanding scholar, taught some of us the basics of bobbin lace. Her passion for the subject was palpable and hooked me into the session right from the beginning. For four hours on that Saturday afternoon, eight of us sat together and maneuvered threads, pins, and bobbins, under Elena’s expert guidance, to make a lace bookmark. And we all unequivocally enjoyed ourselves.
Upon entering the workshop space, I noticed that all materials had been neatly laid out on a table for us. We each received a violet lace cushion, six pairs of wooden bobbins, a box of pins, a spool of cotton thread, and an A4 sheet with a simple series of patterns that Elena had designed. Along with the pattern guide, the sheet also had written instructions that helped reinforce the verbal instructions Elena gave us. Unlike the previous Materials Day that I had participated in—glass making at UrbanGlass in Brooklyn—where we were handling red-hot molten glass, working with metal rods and furnaces (which was exciting, too, of course), the lacemaking kit didn’t feel intimidating. However, I soon realized that, despite appearing (deceptively) simple, lacemaking required of me what felt like an inordinate amount of concentration and hand-eye coordination.
After choosing our spools of thread, the first task was to wind an arm’s length of thread on five pairs of bobbins and an entire wingspan’s length on a sixth pair. Subsequently, I had to secure the thread to the bobbins with a slipknot, making a noose with my left hand and slipping the bobbin through with my right hand. The slipknot allows lacemakers to release more thread from the bobbins, without all the wound thread coming undone. Once the bobbins were prepped, I cut out the pattern from the A4 sheet and pinned it to my lace cushion. The pattern was a great accompaniment to Elena’s instruction because it reiterated everything she said: how many pins I would have to use, how many bobbins would be on each pin, and what my hand movements had to be. For the bookmark we were making, I needed five pins on the first line and had to loop my threaded bobbins over the pins, making sure there was an equal amount of thread on either side. Once all five pairs were looped, the sixth pair with the longest thread had to be looped on the first pin. This bobbin with the longest thread became a kind of a shuttle and would move across all other strings from left to right, and back, until the pattern was complete. With this initial setup completed, we were ready to begin making our pattern.
First up was the cloth stitch: a pattern that follows a cross/twist/cross formula. A “cross” is when the right bobbin from one pair crosses over the left bobbin of the adjacent pair. A “twist” is when two bobbins, belonging to two different pairs, cross over to the right of each other. Yes, it is confusing, and I found myself struggling to follow the pattern. I twisted my threads and unraveled them several times before finally getting it right. Each time, Elena was so patient and generous with her time and instructions, and she not only repeated herself verbally but also went through the motions on her cushion several times until all of us at the session were on the right track. If any of us ever apologized for being too slow, or for asking her to repeat herself, she would immediately tell us not to apologize and that she was there to guide us. As someone who struggles with perfectionism and is therefore hesitant to attempt new things for fear of not being “perfect,” Elena’s attitude made a world of difference. She made me, and all of us, feel comfortable and assured us that it is perfectly okay to make mistakes. It was, after all, our first time making lace!
Following the cloth stitch, we moved on to the whole stitch, then half stitch (my personal favorite), and finally to a cloth stitch with a whole stitch edge. Once our pattern was completed, we were free to release our thread from the bobbins, cut off the excess, tie the ends together, and marvel at our bookmarks. While working on my lace, I found myself inadvertently repeating the rhythm of the formula: cross/twist/cross for the cloth stitch, cross/twist/cross/twist for the whole stitch, and so on. As it turns out, many lacemakers might have done the same, or something similar. Elena shared that there are songs that help lacemakers keep to their rhythm and patterns, and as we worked through the afternoon, she played several of them for us. She also told us about the history of, and (scant) scholarship on, lacemaking and recounted her experiences of learning lacemaking techniques all over the world.
Before attending this workshop, I knew that the process of lacemaking would certainly be very intricate and time-consuming, but the workshop opened my eyes to how exacting, and even physically demanding, it truly is. My appreciation and admiration for lace and lacemakers has only grown since. I am grateful to have had this tactile learning experience, and I am especially grateful that I got to do it with my classmates, under an exceptionally skilled and kind instructor who ensured that our learning happened within a warm, convivial atmosphere.
Debaleena Bagchi is a first-year student in the MA program
