Monday, June 14, 2004
Potomac Celtic Festival '04 - 2 of 2
Living History:
I learned a lot about costuming, both from the reenactors, and from trying out some of the things I've read about in sources.
For example, my belted plaid is 6 yards long, consistent with what I read about in the sources. The reenactors keep telling me that's way too long, 3 yards is enough. And there's a clear difference. Their plaids produce much less material above the belt than mine, while still more than adequately wrapping the waist. My belted plaid looks more like a high-class portrait, with the voluminous material left over the belt, and the very clean, sharp pleats in back. Their plaids looked much more bunched, like the sketches of more ordinary Highlandmen. But the amount of material used in the past, according to the sources, is similar to mine - 5-8 yards. The difference, I think, is that when looking foppish, one will lay the whole length of the plaid out on the ground, pleat it, and put it on. When being practical, one will fold the plaid in half lengthwise, before pleating it. This folding is documented; some sources insist that it was always done, and Waitt's portrait of the piper to Laird Grant shows this, if one looks closely. The pleats aren't nearly as sharp or neat (especially with a heavier weight wool), but the width of material above the belt is much more managable. And in the end, it's not much hotter. The thickness in the front skirts is doubled, but by the same token, it's actually a little thinner in back. The portion of the plaid over the belt is double the thickness, but there's still enough clearance between it and the back for air to flow through. I was fairly comfortable in 70+ degree weather in the outfit even with a doublet. I only became uncomfortable when in a crowded tent, thanks to all the other people's body heat.
Sadly, my outfit needs some work still for authenticity. The handle on my triangular-bladed dirk is too long by about 3/4" - though it should be fairly straightforward to cut down. If I can add 3-4" length of similar fabric to the hem of my shirt, I probably should. My moggans are apparently too similar to a variation of the Stewart tartan (though I looked, and I just don't see it). And, of course, my currans need to be out of deerhide, and my bonnet needs to be knit, not sewn. My doublet interested the 17th century guys most. They thought the neckline was a little short for their period, but there was nothing obviously wrong about it. Sleeved doublets of the 18th century were more commonly in a tartan wool, but the doublet could probably still work for then. The actual design is based on a late 18th century portrait. To improve it, I'll probably double the number of buttons in front. The biggest downside costuming-wise was that my black neck-cloth hadn't been washed enough times, and my sweat caused the dye to bleed onto the collar of my white linen shirt. So I had to bleach it, something I was hoping to avoid.
The other interesting factoid I learned from the reenactors was that men's clothes were not home-made in this period in the Highlands. A travelling weaver/tailor would come to town, instruct the local women on the colors and amounts of the wool he needed, would weave his preferred setts, and then tailor the clothes for the men in exchange for what he could get in trade. It made me wonder: would the idea of a "district tartan" derive not from a locally popular sett, then, but from a given weaver's usual route?
In chatting with a woman with the 1644 group, she had a book on old Irish dress, and was considering selling me a spare copy. In it, there's an early 16th century Durer print I had never seen. It was part of a plate showing Irish kerns and noblewomen's dress (all of which was familiar), but also included a child playing a full-sized Irish Piob Mhor. The instrument was a two-drone instrument, almost identical to another (German?) bagpipe Durer illustrated in a 1514 print, and very similar to the 2-drone Highland pipes seen frequently mid-18th century. It seems that the two-drone tenor and bass, or tenor and baritone, arrangement was very conservative. Even the drone tops were the same: chalice shaped, not like the mid 18th-century Waterloo drone tulips, or the modern form.
Music:
I also heard some great bands. In addition to my three teachers, John with City of Alexandria, Philippe with Coleman's Cross, and Elke playing solo & with the fiddle club, there were some great musicians there. Maggie Carchrie & an a capella group called Navan had some great Gaelic vocal work (and Navan sang in Cornish, Manx, and other languages as well). I caught Lunasa and the Homespun Ceilidh Band, the latter of which had, in addition the usual instruments, Renaissance cittern and viola da gamba. Ed Miller and Slainte Mhath were there, as was Moch Pryderi, and a few more artists I had the chance to see, and a few more I (sadly) missed. I think the fiddle club performance went well, and with my own playing I only got distracted and messed up a few times, and Elke's skillful playing surely hid most of my mistakes.
It was, in all, a blast, one of my favorite festivals every year I go to it.
I learned a lot about costuming, both from the reenactors, and from trying out some of the things I've read about in sources.
For example, my belted plaid is 6 yards long, consistent with what I read about in the sources. The reenactors keep telling me that's way too long, 3 yards is enough. And there's a clear difference. Their plaids produce much less material above the belt than mine, while still more than adequately wrapping the waist. My belted plaid looks more like a high-class portrait, with the voluminous material left over the belt, and the very clean, sharp pleats in back. Their plaids looked much more bunched, like the sketches of more ordinary Highlandmen. But the amount of material used in the past, according to the sources, is similar to mine - 5-8 yards. The difference, I think, is that when looking foppish, one will lay the whole length of the plaid out on the ground, pleat it, and put it on. When being practical, one will fold the plaid in half lengthwise, before pleating it. This folding is documented; some sources insist that it was always done, and Waitt's portrait of the piper to Laird Grant shows this, if one looks closely. The pleats aren't nearly as sharp or neat (especially with a heavier weight wool), but the width of material above the belt is much more managable. And in the end, it's not much hotter. The thickness in the front skirts is doubled, but by the same token, it's actually a little thinner in back. The portion of the plaid over the belt is double the thickness, but there's still enough clearance between it and the back for air to flow through. I was fairly comfortable in 70+ degree weather in the outfit even with a doublet. I only became uncomfortable when in a crowded tent, thanks to all the other people's body heat.
Sadly, my outfit needs some work still for authenticity. The handle on my triangular-bladed dirk is too long by about 3/4" - though it should be fairly straightforward to cut down. If I can add 3-4" length of similar fabric to the hem of my shirt, I probably should. My moggans are apparently too similar to a variation of the Stewart tartan (though I looked, and I just don't see it). And, of course, my currans need to be out of deerhide, and my bonnet needs to be knit, not sewn. My doublet interested the 17th century guys most. They thought the neckline was a little short for their period, but there was nothing obviously wrong about it. Sleeved doublets of the 18th century were more commonly in a tartan wool, but the doublet could probably still work for then. The actual design is based on a late 18th century portrait. To improve it, I'll probably double the number of buttons in front. The biggest downside costuming-wise was that my black neck-cloth hadn't been washed enough times, and my sweat caused the dye to bleed onto the collar of my white linen shirt. So I had to bleach it, something I was hoping to avoid.
The other interesting factoid I learned from the reenactors was that men's clothes were not home-made in this period in the Highlands. A travelling weaver/tailor would come to town, instruct the local women on the colors and amounts of the wool he needed, would weave his preferred setts, and then tailor the clothes for the men in exchange for what he could get in trade. It made me wonder: would the idea of a "district tartan" derive not from a locally popular sett, then, but from a given weaver's usual route?
In chatting with a woman with the 1644 group, she had a book on old Irish dress, and was considering selling me a spare copy. In it, there's an early 16th century Durer print I had never seen. It was part of a plate showing Irish kerns and noblewomen's dress (all of which was familiar), but also included a child playing a full-sized Irish Piob Mhor. The instrument was a two-drone instrument, almost identical to another (German?) bagpipe Durer illustrated in a 1514 print, and very similar to the 2-drone Highland pipes seen frequently mid-18th century. It seems that the two-drone tenor and bass, or tenor and baritone, arrangement was very conservative. Even the drone tops were the same: chalice shaped, not like the mid 18th-century Waterloo drone tulips, or the modern form.
Music:
I also heard some great bands. In addition to my three teachers, John with City of Alexandria, Philippe with Coleman's Cross, and Elke playing solo & with the fiddle club, there were some great musicians there. Maggie Carchrie & an a capella group called Navan had some great Gaelic vocal work (and Navan sang in Cornish, Manx, and other languages as well). I caught Lunasa and the Homespun Ceilidh Band, the latter of which had, in addition the usual instruments, Renaissance cittern and viola da gamba. Ed Miller and Slainte Mhath were there, as was Moch Pryderi, and a few more artists I had the chance to see, and a few more I (sadly) missed. I think the fiddle club performance went well, and with my own playing I only got distracted and messed up a few times, and Elke's skillful playing surely hid most of my mistakes.
It was, in all, a blast, one of my favorite festivals every year I go to it.