To
Pat Harris and Pauline Downs
Copyright © 1977, 1992 by Doris Southard.
All rights reserved.
This Dover edition, first published in 1992, is a republication of Bobbin Lacemaking, first published
by Charles Scribner’s Sons, Macmillan Publishing Company, New York, 1977. Slight corrections have
been made to this edition and the “Suppliers” list has been updated.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Southard, Doris.
[Bobbin lacemaking]
Lessons in bobbin lacemaking / Doris Southard.
p. cm.
Originally published: Bobbin lacemaking. New York: Scribner, c1977.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
9780486139555
1. Bobbin lace. I. Title.
[TT805.B63S68 1992]
746.2’22—dc20
91-45332
CIP
Manufactured in the United States by Courier Corporation
27122607
www.doverpublications.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright Page
Introduction
History of Bobbin Lace
Getting Started: The Pillow
Bobbins, Old and New
LESSON 1 - A Simple Braid
LESSON 2 - An Edging
LESSON 3 - The Sewing Edge
LESSON 4 - Fans
LESSON 5 - Spiders
LESSON 6 - Rose Ground
LESSON 7 - Turning a Corner
LESSON 8 - How to Begin Without Directions
LESSON 9 - Laces with Gimp
LESSON 10 - Squares, Petals, and Picots
LESSON 11 - Laces Made on a Flat Pillow
LESSON 12 - Other Kinds of Laces
Things to Make
Washing Bobbin Lace
Bobbin Lace Designs
Bibliography
Suppliers
Organizations
INDEX
Introduction
This is the book I wish ad been available when I was learning bobbin lacemaking. For years my
only teachers were books, most of them old and outdated, but I was fortunate to have them, since by
the time I was looking for bobbin lace information they were becoming scarce and hard to find. By
gleaning here a little, there a little, and by much experimentation, I pieced together the know-how
needed to acquire skill in lacemaking.
Almost as soon as I knew how myself, I began sharing this new-old craft with others, teaching
classes and writing lessons for a correspondence course, besides occasionally exhibiting and
demonstrating. Remembering my own frustrations and my search for answers to questions, I have
found it easy to write in a way that I think will anticipate the problems of beginners and be a help to
students at all levels.
My approach has remained traditional even though I admire and appreciate the exciting works of
contemporary artists who use bobbin lace techniques and a wide variety of fibers for their
constructions. Through the lessons in this book you can master the techniques of bobbin lacemaking
and then apply them in any way —traditional or contemporary—that satisfies your creative instincts.
Bobbin lacemaking has enthralled me for ten years. I hope that you will enjoy it half as much as I
do!
Without the help and encouragement, not to say gentle prodding, of many lacemakers this book
could not have been written.
Sincere appreciation to all my fellow lace enthusiasts, who so generously loaned me their work to
be photographed or who had things photographed for me.
My deepest gratitude to Trenna Ruffner for sharing ideas, working samples, proofreading, and
making suggestions and encouraging me all along the way.
Special thanks to Eldon Swanson for long and patient hours at the drawing board, reproducing
patterns and line drawings.
Gratitude to photographers F. Axtell Kramer, Bob Edmonson, R. J. Horsley, Dick Cole, and Alice
Camber.
History of Bobbin Lace
It is State Fair time. Throngs of visitors stroll through the building that houses the Fine Arts and
Crafts exhibits. Carrying souvenirs, shopping bags, balloons, and giveaways, they linger long at some
displays, briefly at others. The crowd seldom thins before one booth in particular. Here sits a woman
in a costume of colonial days, working at the loom of the lacemaker—a lace pillow. At the top of the
pillow a small bristle of pins secures the lace as it is woven. Many threads radiate from the pins, each
thread fastened to one of the bobbins spread across the pillow. The lacemaker’s fingers fly and the
bobbins click like wind chimes as she flips them this way and that, twisting, crossing, braiding,
pausing often to take one of the pins from the back of the cluster and set it in a new place between the
stitches she has just woven.
All are enthralled with the seemingly effortless manipulation of threads and bobbins and they
marvel at the crisp band of lace that is the product of all this dexterity. A display of lace includes
bookmarks, dainty handkerchiefs, wall hangings, fine wool lace scarves, attesting to the versatility of
the lacemaker’s skill. The process looks so very intricate and yet the worker at the lace pillow clearly
does not concentrate exclusively on her task but talks with all who want to ask questions. Most often
asked is “How do you know which bobbins to pick up next?” Over and over she hears, “I’ve never
even heard of bobbin lace before!” or “This is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone making bobbin
lace.” Many declare, “I could never do that!” Most are frankly unbelieving when told that lacemaking
is not hard to learn and that almost anyone can do it.
WHERE DID BOBBIN LACE ORIGINATE?
Very few people living in the second half of the twentieth century have ever seen a bobbin lacemaker
at work except in a situation like that just described. Only a few have even heard of bobbin lace, and
yet it is one of the oldest crafts, dating back to the sixteenth century, at least—perhaps earlier still. Its
historic origins are disputed. Some authorities assert that bobbin lacemaking began in Italy. Others are
equally sure that the first bobbin lace was made in Flanders. Whatever its point of origin, the
knowledge and skill of lacemaking with bobbins spread rapidly and in a relatively short time it was
being made in every European country. By the end of the sixteenth century a great deal of lace was
being used for the decoration of clothing. The rich and the noble, the only class that could afford such
elegance in dress, loved to use lace lavishly on nearly every item of apparel. We are all familiar with
the portraits of the period showing both men and women in great ruffs, sometimes edged with lace,
sometimes made entirely of lace. Stiffening and “underproppers” were used to make the ruffs stand
out and gave a sort of “head-on-a-platter” appearance. These finally gave way to cascading collars
without the stiffening. Wide ruffles and tiers of laces were used at wrist and knee and even on the
cuffs of boots. Hundreds of yards of laces might adorn a single costume. Many a nobleman, it is said,
sold acres of land to buy lace. The Roman Catholic Church used the most exquisite laces in great
profusion to embellish the robes of bishops and priests and altar linens.
This and the following lace portrait are from a set of eleven purchased by a New York antique dealer
in 1961 from an abbey near Paris. They were probably made in the nineteenth century by nuns at the
abbey. This one is from a portrait of Henry II of France. Courtesy of Carol M. Winandy. Photo by F.
Axtell Kramer.
The first laces were relatively simple, of fairly coarse threads, and the designs were geometric in
character. As the skill of the lacemaker developed, finer and finer threads were used and the designs
grew ever more elaborate and more beautiful. The early geometric patterns and heavy threads were
superseded by filmy interlacements showing floral designs, scrolls, tendrils, leaves, trees, and figures
of people and animals, besides the religious motifs for the church. The figures of the design were
connected with brides or bars. Later still, the flowers and figures were woven with a mesh or net
background instead of the brides. During the eighteenth century bobbin lace design and execution
attained the ultimate in beauty and richness. The linen threads were incredibly fine and the
consummate skill of the lacemaker wove them into unmatched works of art.
Catherine de Medici. The frames of all the portraits in the set are identical. Courtesy of Carol M.
Winandy. Photo by F. Axtell Kramer.
Detail of the Catherine de Medici portrait. Photo by F. Axtell Kramer.
Each country or district developed a characteristic style of pattern and manner of working, so that it
is possible to identify old lace pieces with some certainty as having originated in a particular
lacemaking area. Brussels, Binche, and Mechlin are Belgian cities whose names identify some of the
finest laces produced in that country. Another Belgian lace is Duchesse, considered one of the
loveliest of all pillow laces. Chantilly is a lace of France and Spain. Arras and Lille are two of the
better-known French lace centers, but the most famous lace of France is probably Valenciennes. The
best of the old English laces is Honiton; it is still being made in relatively simple form and in small
quantities. Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire laces also are made in England, many of the lovely old
patterns once again coming into use. Each European country produces laces of its own, many of them
of fine quality although generally not so well known as those already mentioned. Some excellent
books on the history of lacemaking and the identification of laces are listed in the bibliography at the
back of this book. Both subjects are fascinating studies and can lead one on a wide-ranging journey of
exploration.
Most of these fragile and beautiful laces were woven by the poor women of the countryside and
towns, and lacemaking grew to be a cottage industry of vast proportions. Pillow and bobbins were kept
in readiness for those moments when the most pressing of chores in house and field were done and the
worker could spend a few hours making lace. Other lacemakers spent every waking hour at the lace
pillow. Nuns plied the bobbins in the seclusion of their convents, producing exquisite laces for the
church, or making laces to sell for money to carry on the work of orphanages and other charities. A
few men also worked full time at the lace pillow and others turned to making lace during slack
seasons in their usual employment. Some of the great ladies of the time, queens included, were
lacemakers, and they encouraged and patronized the home industry. Many thousands of lace workers
were engaged in the industry at its height during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It would not
be unusual for twenty thousand women in a single city to be making lace for sale. It was an occupation
that brought in little money for the worker, but these were desperate times and that little was
sometimes all that staved off starvation.
Belgian Duchesse bobbin lace found in a New York thrift shop. The inset medallions are of “point de
gaze,” a needle-made lace. Photo by F. Axtell Kramer.
Even the most proficient and industrious worker could produce only a tiny bit of lace in the course
of a fifteen-hour day and for this might receive the equivalent of five cents. The only people who
profited greatly from the lace industry were the lace merchants. Buyers came to the villages,
purchased laces from the workers, sold them to a middleman who might sell them to still another
dealer before they came into the hands of the eventual owner.
The thread used was the finest of linen, sometimes of such gossamer spin that it could not be felt
between thumb and forefinger. Since dry air would cause the fragile linen threads to become brittle
and snap at a touch, both spinning and lacemaking were often carried on in the damp atmosphere of a
cellar. A single candle provided illumination for a number of workers—usually three or four. The
candle stood in the center of a candle stand. Around it were placed globes of water, sometimes called
“flashes,” positioned so that the light shining through one of them was magnified and projected onto
the spot where a lacemaker was working. Sometimes there would be a second ring of workers around a
candle stand, and incredibly, even a third! Under such conditions and for mere pennies a day, laces of
a beauty and delicacy unmatched in any age were woven. In order to see their detailing one needs a
magnifying glass, if not a microscope! The world will never see its like again. We can only marvel at
it and treasure the bits and pieces of old lace we find in antique shops, realizing that all the lace of this
quality that there will ever be exists today. There are a number of fine collections of old lace in
museums, both in the United States and in Europe. Among the most notable in the United States are
those in the Cooper Union Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Gardiner
Museum in Boston, and the Art Institute in Chicago; in England, the Luton Museum in Luton,
Bedfordshire, and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
Belgian-made medallion with a skein of the fine thread used to make it. Actual size of medallion, 2¼
inches in diameter. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
Each lacemaking country—sometimes each district—evolved its own style of pillow and bobbins.
In most cases the same kind of pillow is used in the same areas today.
The old Belgian pillow was the bulky rectangular or square desk shape, supported by a wooden
stand. Jan Vermeer, in his well-known painting The Lacemaker, shows this pillow, which was also
used in the Low Countries and in Switzerland. A small drawer at the back held extra bobbins and the
lace was tucked into it as it came from the back of the pillow. Another pillow used in Belgium was a
simpler, flat, hay-stuffed pillow; this is the one in general use in Belgium today.
Old pillow similar to the Belgian desk pillow. The bobbins are old-style Danish. The bolster is not the
usual solid roller but a thick belt running around two wooden rollers. Courtesy of the owner, Ellice
Kulich. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
The Belgians’ French neighbors favored a smaller pillow with a revolving bolster. I have an old
French pillow in my collection. When I first saw it, it had narrowly escaped consignment to the trash
and did not look very promising even to me. On stripping it down in preparation for fitting it with a
new cover, I discovered five layers of covering already on it, each one having been put on over the one
before it. The bolster is formed of a tightly tied bundle of what appears to be oat straw, cut off straight
at each end. The part of the pillow where the bobbins lie is not stuffed but made of pieces of
cardboard, bent to the desired shape and covered with fabric.
The Italians, Russians, and Germans generally use a large bolster pillow for all laces. The bolster
rests on a stand, either a tall one sitting on the floor or a small cradle for use on a table. These are
sometimes called muff pillows and may have a hollow center.
My old French pillow with a new cover. The bobbins are modern Belgian. Photo by R. J. Horsley.
An Italian-German bolster pillow with contemporary Danish bobbins. The lace pattern is an original
design by Gertrude Biedermann. Photo by R. J. Horsley.
The Spanish pillow takes the shape of an elongated bolster, about 26 inches long and 7 or 8 inches
in diameter. It is used in an upright position, the lace being worked down the length of it instead of
around it. The pillow may be supported by a stand or held between the knees of the worker, the other
end leaning against a chair back or a wall.
Most Scandinavian pillows have the small revolving bolster like the French pillow but with a larger
apron area on which to array the bobbins. A ratchet at one or both ends of the bolster keeps it from
turning during use. Recently I saw a Danish pillow on which the bolster was not attached at all. The
pillow was the usual padded half-circle but the bolster was a cylindrical bag of sand covered with the
same fabric as the rest of the pillow. It was simply placed at the back of the pillow and its weight kept
it in place. It was a good, functional pillow, but it was heavy!
A modern Swedish. pillow. The bolster rests in a deep box elevating the upholstered area several
inches above the table. The hardwood wedge at the right end of the bolster is set between bolster and
box to keep the bolster from turning while in use. Courtesy of Rachel Kohlmann.
Photo by R. J. Horsley.
An old pillow made in Hungary. Why the same amount of apron space at the back as at the front? I
don’t know. Identical ratchets at each end of the bolster keep it from turning either way. The bobbins
are old Danish, of light, soft wood. Photo by R. J. Horsley.
This contemporary Danish half pillow goes demonstrating with me regularly. The bobbins are modern
Danish and the two fancy-handled pins, also Danish, are used to control groups of bobbins not in use
at the moment. Photo by R. J. Horsley.
The old English pillows were enormous balls, needing sturdy stands, called horses or maids, to hold
them. These have generally given way to the large bolster pillow much like the Italian and German
style. The Honiton pillow is round and thick but much smaller than the old-fashioned ones mentioned
above.
There are innumerable variations of all these pillows. Each lacemaker is sure that there is only one
best kind of pillow—hers.
Bobbins vary nearly as much as pillows from country to country: tiny or large, ornate or as simple
as a pencil, heavy or almost weightless, bulbous or with a pointed end. The differences are due partly
to the variation in requirements for different kinds of lacemaking. Some laces are made with threads
so fine that lightweight bobbins are a necessity to keep the fragile linen from breaking. Coarse laces
using heavy threads need the weight of heavier bobbins to help maintain tension. Honiton bobbins are
pointed for convenience in making sewings that fasten the parts of the lace together.
The aristocracy in the North American colonies shared the European’s love of fine apparel,
following closely the fashions across the sea. Portraits of George Washington show him with sleeve
ruffles besides a lace cravat and breast ruffles. Martha’s caps and kerchiefs were always edged with
lace. Since little lace was being made in this country, the statesman, the merchant from New York,
and the planter in Virginia or the Carolinas all ordered laces from London.
The French Revolution and consequent upheavals in the political and social life of the times
brought with it sumptuary laws, not only in France but in other countries as well. This inhibited to
some degree the wearing of such frivolities as fine laces, but the love of luxury does not die easily and
for a time there was a brisk business in lace smuggling.
Even before the coming of the French Revolution the development of machines that could
manufacture laces had sounded the death knell for the home industry of lacemaking. The workers tried
producing coarser laces that could be made more rapidly, hoping to compete in a small way and to
postpone the inevitable. Lace schools were subsidized and encouraged, and prizes were given; but all
remedial measures did little to stem the tide. By the late 1800s little of the fine-quality lace of earlier
centuries was still being produced. A dreadful toll had been exacted from the lacemakers in health and
eyesight, so the gradual ending of lacemaking as an industry was probably a good thing. The Leavers
lace machines eventually were able to reproduce many of the handmade patterns almost perfectly and
the luxury of lace was finally brought within the reach of many people to whom it had hitherto been
denied.
BOBBIN LACE IN AMERICA
America has its own brief chapter in the history of bobbin lacemaking. Documents show that up to
forty-one thousand yards of black laces and white edgings were produced in one year by over six
hundred workers in and around the town of Ipswich, Massachusetts, during the late eighteenth century.
The laces made in the Ipswich area were bobbin laces of the straight or “trolley” type, worked on a
traditional “muff”-type pillow with unadorned bobbins of bamboo. These bamboo bobbins were
unique to Ipswich and were probably fashioned from bamboo brought in by trade ships.
Bobbin lacemaking flourished as a cottage industry along the northeastern coast until the advent of
the net machines in the early nineteenth century, when the lacemaking pillows were laid aside for the
more lucrative business of embroidered net.
“The Princess,” an antique American pillow. Many thousands of these pillows were manufactured by
the Torchon Lace Company of St. Louis, Missouri, about the turn of the century, during a revival of
interest in bobbin lacemaking. The pillows (with bobbins!) sold for five dollars. Bobbins,
contemporary American. Courtesy of Trenna Ruffner. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
Details of the Princess pillow showing brass name plate. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
At present the Ipswich Historical Society is developing an exhibit of Ipswich laces, which will soon
be open to the public at the Whipple House in Ipswich.
Volume production of lace has been taken over by machines, but the ancient skills of making lace
by hand with pillow and bobbins have been handed down from generation to generation. Lacemaking
has been encouraged in some European countries and attempts made to keep alive the tradition of fine
lacemaking. From time to time revivals have been subsidized by governments and new schools opened
to teach lacemaking to the young. As recently as 1930 an American magazine reported the
establishment of new lace schools in Switzerland. It was further stated that “bobbin lace is to
Switzerland what needlepoint is to our country. While it is not a universal occupation, nevertheless it
is enjoying a very great popularity with a select group of devotees, who may be great ladies, average
citizenesses of the big towns or peasant women living high in the mountain passes of the Alps.”
In the late 1930s Marguerite Brooks studied lacemaking in Europe and came back to the United
States to share her knowledge and enthusiasm for bobbin lace with her countrywomen, creating a
small revival of her own, ripples of which remain even today. She taught lacemaking with lessons-bymail and opened up the world of lacemaking to many a delighted student.
The beginner in bobbin lacemaking today who is looking for a teacher to help her would very likely
search in vain in most areas of our country. Lacemakers are scarce, but in a few instances a number of
European-born lacemakers can be found living in a single community. In the New Ulm, Minnesota,
area, for instance, there are many lacemakers of German descent. Some of them still work at the lace
pillow, using the old “kloppelsack” and hooded bobbins brought from Germany. Farm wife and
lacemaker Frances Haubrich remembers that there were many lacemakers in New Ulm in the 1940s.
They all sold their laces—for very little, as Frances recalls. The lacemakers, or more likely, their
parents, had emigrated from the Bohemia section of present-day Czechoslovakia, so around New Ulm
the lace is known as Bohemian lace. One day the contents of a dusty old store in New Ulm were sold
at auction and Frances bought a large sample book of laces. Most are embroideries (the front
proclaims: G. F. Dongus, New Ulm, Importer of Embroideries) but there are about one hundred
samples of bobbin laces. Apparently one could order a desired length of any of them, and it seems
likely that the orders were filled in the area and laces were not imported from Europe. Frances Zeug
remembers that her mother made laces for the Dongus store. Only a few of the lacemakers today are
passing on their craft to others, since, they say, “the young people aren’t Interested.”
Laces from the Dongus store sample book. Prices for these patterns were thirty to forty cents a yard.
Courtesy of Francis Haubrich. Photo by F. Axtell Kramer.
The widest and most expensive of the laces from the Dongus store sample book. Price tag still attached
—$1.25 a yard. Courtesy Francis Haubrich. Photo by F. Axtell Kramer.
Suzanna Poma Ciccomoscolo, one of the Belgian-born Moline lacemakers. Her small French pillow is
unique among this group. Most of them use the large, flat Belgian pillow. Moline Daily Dispatch
photo.
The large Belgian community in and around Moline, Illinois, includes a closely knit group of
lacemakers, nearly all of whom grew up in the province of West Flanders, Belgium, and learned
lacemaking from the nuns who taught in their schools. One of them, Anna Poma, relates how she once
informed her teacher that she didn’t think she cared to learn lacemaking. She was told that she hadn’t
been asked whether she wanted to or not: “You have to!” After they came to this country and after
their families no longer took all of their time, a number of them began to meet regularly to chat and
have a cup of coffee and make lace together. Gradually they have come to be known and appreciated
by a wide audience outside their community, and they are much in demand for demonstrations. They
also appear occasionally on television to the enchantment of a still wider audience. On these occasions
they wear traditional Belgian costumes consisting of long, dark skirt, shawl, and lace-edged cap—with
or without long streamers. They are teaching fascinated groups of young girls the art of lacemaking
and so carrying on the tradition begun in Belgium.
Gertrude Biedermann and her sister, Martha Anderson, of San Francisco, are among the most
accomplished lacemakers and lace designers today. They were born in the lacemaking country of
Saxony and began to learn their craft from their mother at the age of four. Later they studied in the
lace schools there. They say that lacemaking was and is an important industry in Saxony and is taught
in the grammar schools. Gertrude tells of seeing old men of the town where she lived weaving pillow
lace as they smoked their pipes—a suggestion for today’s retirees?
Many an isolated “old country” lacemaker believes that she is the last surviving practitioner of a
dying art, but it isn’t so. Bobbin lacemaking is not as widely known and taught as it deserves to be, but
“reports of its death are greatly exaggerated.” Today many a proficient needlewoman or hand weaver
who has “done everything” finds a new and exciting challenge in bobbin lacemaking. Her enthusiasm
is communicated to others and so gradually the numbers of lacemakers increase. An international
organization of lace enthusiasts, the International Old Lacers, is dedicated to spreading the word about
the joys of lacemaking and of collecting precious old lace pieces to preserve them for posterity.
Samples of laces made for sale in Switzerland in recent years. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
Local and regional groups work together, helping each other and promoting lace and lacemaking in
many ways. They exhibit lace and demonstrate lacemaking to an admiring public. The resulting
publicity reaches even more people than the numbers who visit the actual demonstration. When older
lacemakers from many ethnic backgrounds learn that there are others making bobbin lace, they come
to meet with the group and add their know-how to help the struggling beginners, and frequently they
are motivated to get back to work at lace pillows, perhaps long neglected.
Although it may no longer be necessary to make articles by hand for use in the home, the innate
urge to create something of beauty remains. Bobbin lacemaking answers this need admirably. The
basic stitches are simple enough for a child to learn and yet there are challenges in lacemaking to
satisfy the most ambitious crafts person. Necessary equipment is small and simple and need not be
costly. Only average eyesight is needed.
There is tremendous satisfaction in helping to revive interest in a lovely old art, but the greatest
reward is simply the pleasure of working at the lace pillow. The soothing click of the bobbins is a fine
tranquilizer in this age of rushing about. We say, “I never have time for the things I want to do!” Take
time! Stop to smell the flowers. Refresh your spirit and lose your tensions in the study of this tranquil
art of a bygone age.
A doily typical of those made for sale to tourists in Belgium. Photo by Bob Edmonson.
Getting Started: The Pillow
The preceding chapter indicated the wide variety of types of lace pillows used in Europe and in the
United States. The kind of pillow one chooses dictates, to a large extent, the manner of working. The
large cylindrical pillow on a stand can be used only by the lacemaker who works with palms up,
holding up two or more pairs of bobbins at one time in her hands. A skilled German lacemaker
manipulates an astonishing number of bobbin pairs in this fashion, the onlooker marveling that the
hand is indeed quicker than the eye. In order to manage the bobbins not in use at the moment, large
pins are set in the pillow at either side and the extra bobbins hung out of the way over the pins.
Then there are the Belgian lacemakers, most of whom now use a flat, padded, mushroom-shaped
pillow, the bobbins fanning out to lie on the pillow in a semicircle. They work with palms down, the
bobbins being half lifted, half rolled, over each other as they produce the same stitches as the German
worker with her cylindrical pillow. The experienced Belgian worker rattling her bobbins across the
flat pillow works as rapidly as her German counterpart, the bobbins flitting back and forth too quickly
for the watcher to be able to follow the movements.
Both methods are “right,” of course. I began with the first manner of working. It seemed natural to
me to pick up the bobbins in my hands to twist and cross and plait, but my fingers are not as adroit as
they might be and I soon realized that this way of working was awkward for me. One day as I watched
a lovely Danish woman working at her lace pillow it came to me just how awkward I really was. She
handled the bobbins with palms down, and although she did not work with professional speed, her
movements were rhythmic and graceful. I changed to the palms-down way and have used it ever since.
Those who have more nimble fingers than I may enjoy the first method. Whatever is easy and
comfortable for you is right.
The pillow pictured here is one particularly suited to the needs of the beginner. Usually called the
Swedish pillow, it is used by many contemporary lacemakers. With this pillow the palms-down
method is most often used but the student may perfectly well hold the bobbins up in the hands to work
if she prefers. The small revolving bolster holds the pattern and is set into the larger pillow, which
forms a convenient apron on which to spread out the bobbins in order while working. A pillow similar
to this may be purchased from a supplier of bobbin lace equipment, but it is not hard to make your
own pillow. The materials will cost only a few dollars and only simple tools are needed for its
construction.
A pillow you can make, The tape pinned across the bobbins shows a method of securing them when it is
necessary to transport the pillow. Photo by R. J. Horsley.
MATERIALS AND SUPPLIES YOU WILL NEED
A piece of ¼-inch plywood for the base
Scraps of 1-inch pine board to make the box that will hold the bolster
1 piece of dowel (½-inch size) 6½ inches long, the center pin for the bolster
Masking tape
Wool fabric remnants or old blankets for padding the bolster
Stuffing for the pillow may be either:
a piece of 3-inch-thick polyurethane foam
or
a 1-pound package of polyester fiber fill
and
a sheet of ½-inch-thick polyurethane foam
¾ yard of unbleached muslin for the first, or under, covering of the pillow
¾ yard of a plain, dark-colored fabric for the finish covering of both bolster and pillow
(velveteen in blue or green is nice!)