Making the chain?

Busy week carried into weekend with responsive site design upgrades for The Art of Chainmail and Whytes Online both going live after much polishing.

Had a funny giggle upon discovering that Sudbury's Talent North Magazine (which some of you may remember from my Zombie adventures in Espanola last summer) choose to feature none other than yours truly for the cover of their April edition. Check out the widget below - something awesome about this publication is that it is completely free-to-read online via international digital publishing service Issuu. (In retrospect I wish we'd had something this slick for the digital edition of Scrapbook.)

All around Talent North is definitely an innovative publication and even includes an awesome editorial this month on self-confidence!

How DO YOU make a chain shirt?

One link at a time!

Q. No, seriously dude, how do you make a chainmail shirt?

A. I've always wanted to do a sequel for the Art of Chainmail that explains practical applications for the European patterns. In the meantime, here's a quick explanation of the process I use. For me, a lot of what I create is a process as opposed to a strict set of rules. Shaping garments for specifically for my clients is why as a couturier I love haute couture fashion.

Anyhow (assuming we're talking about the European 4-1 weave) I measure evenly around the chest (C on the illustration below) and then up from this point over the shoulders. Then from the top of the shoulder to total length; waist for a shirt, knees for a hauberk.

G is also an important measurement for sizes sleeves if desired.

For construction I start with three rows running around the chest at a length that is equal to the chest measurement. Because of row stretch (AOC - Page 9) I measure this distance with the European pattern "at rest." That is neither stretched nor collapsed, but just resting naturally on a flat surface.

I also make sure that the total number of links is divisible by four so that I can divide the whole pieces into four working quadrants with stitch markers.

From there knit columns up over the shoulders, joining the offset row ends in the middle (top of the shoulder) with a shoulder attachment (AOC - Page 21.) From there I generally fill in the neck, making sure it's left large enough for my head to pass through both ways. (Don't get this wrong, it can hurt!)

I also like to make my shirts with a V-Neck, as I have large collar bones (AOC - Page 11.)

I then build out over the shoulders. For a vest this isn't even really necessary, for a shirt the sleeves can come out square or angle forward a bit. For long sleeves I recommend an angled shoulder attachment (AOC - Page 19.)

Depending on body shape I generally build straight down and allow row stretch to wrap the pattern around the body inside. For a more tailored look links can either be added or removed in order to create subtle expansion and contraction.

For sleeves a hand width measurement (M) is nice, as a reduction along the inside of the sleeve saves a lot of sloppy chain flopping around at the wrist.

I constructed a XX size hauberk for myself last summer and covered the process on my social media network. If you do a search on my YellowSMG Tumblr for "Hauberk" sans quotation marks and scroll through the results you will see a neat reverse chronology of the process emerge.

The "Danny Steel" poster explains the motivation for creating this piece from split links as the unofficial greeter for the second floor of the Gore Bay Harbour Centre where our shop, Whytes, is located.

Any questions? Please feel free to post your best chain vest, byrnie, shirt, haurbergeon, hauberk, etc... techniques below.

Also, in the age of crowd-sourcing solutions, a simple Google Search also turns up lots of juicy chain making instructions.

What was your first ink?

This dragonfly on the back of my right hand was my first tattoo. Later I started to use the same dragonfly symbol for Dylon Whyte's Art of Chainmail.

Some have suggested that the following story is about grieving the loss of a loved one, but I've always seen it as more of a metaphorical allegory for melancholy and what it's like to truly discover oneself alone amidst all existence.
 
The Dragonfly Story

“In the bottom of an old pond lived some grubs who could not understand why none of their group ever came back after crawling up the lily stems to the top of the water. They promised each other that the next one who was called to make the upward climb would return and tell what had happened to him. Soon one of them felt an urgent impulse to seek the surface; he rested himself on the top of a lily pad and went through a glorious transformation which made him a dragonfly with beautiful wings. In vain he tried to keep his promise. Flying back and forth over the pond, he peered down at his friends below. Then he realized that even if they could see him they would not recognize such a radiant creature as one of their number.

The fact that we cannot see our friends or communicate with them after certain transformations is no proof that we or they cease to exist.”