A study group is being planned!

Sarah Goslee, together with a friend, is proposing a new study group about archaeological textiles in the Complex Weaver's group. That does sound interesting - I've read a few of the newsletters from the Medieval Textiles group, but being no proper weaver myself, I never joined or participated. The new group will have a much broader focus, and I will definitely keep an eye on its development.

It's all still in the planning stages, but you can read more about it on her blog.

The thing with looms.

There's two things I like to moan and groan about when chatting fabrics - number one: you just can't get the yarns anymore (or the guys to weave these yarns), and number two: there's a lot of modern fabrics that have no proper selvedges anymore.

And that's to do with the looms. Thing is - if you want to sell cheap fabrics, you need to have a loom that is fast, and work with materials that don't have a life of their own. Which means limp yarns, not spun as tightly old-fashioned hand-spun ones, in
a loom that is really, really fast... and these things will not give you proper selvedges.

Back when weaving was done with a shuttle, and where it is still done in this manner, you pass the shuttle through the shed, change sheds and pass the shuttle back. The thread, thus, makes a U-turn around the outermost thread(s) of your fabric. Adding in an extra thread or two to strengthen the selvedge was a well-known and quite commonly used thing, and having good selvedges that run straight and are even are a sign of good quality weaving.

If you want a fabric that meets all the criteria of a historical fabric, you have to have a good old-fashioned selvedge like that. Which also explains why I'm always happy to get something like this:

That is a proper, nice selvedge; a little bit stronger than the rest of the fabric but not too different in weave or density, and there's no plastic strengthening thread added to it. You can join two of these selvedges with overcast stitch just like it was done back in the Middle Ages and be happy.

The next best thing, and a type of selvedge more commonly found in modern fabrics, is looking like this:

It's still a proper selvedge, though not as nice and sturdy, and quite wide if you don't want to have the change in weave type show on the surface. There's also often a messy-looking area between the weave proper and the selvedge, also nicely showing in this specimen here. I wouldn't join two of these with overcast stitch if the join will be visible later.

Now let's go a bit more modern, yes? Proper selvedges require shuttle looms. These old-fashioned shuttle looms are slow, and modern industry likes its stuff to be faster - time is money and so on. So there's another type of fabric edge which really can't be termed "selvedge" any more... this one.

These are done with help of jets or projectiles, requiring cut threads as the weft. These weft threads, if fine enough, can be even carried by an air jet or a water jet. The result? A very, very fast loom (these are the fastest type today) but no selvedge whatsoever. The edges are, basically, cut edges with a little fringe and maybe some stabiliser thread along the edge. If you wanted to use the selvedge for extra strength somewhere... you're out of luck with this fabric type. If you wanted it to show somewhere... same thing applies. If you were planning to cut down on your sewing and hemming time with use of the selvedge, you just got a nasty surprise. You will have to treat every edge of this fabric like a cut edge, because that is what it is.

And then there's another little nasty surprise if you are looking for pure wool fabric in narrow widths. One of the two edges is a perfectly fine, normal selvedge, usually not reinforced by a double thread or anything.

The other edge, however... is not a proper selvedge. In fact, it's more like one of the cut-thread edges, only with a fold in the thread instead of the cut. The edge is held together by a fine, tiny crochet chain, usually done with a very fine thread made from man-made fibre.

It's not very obvious, and won't be visible or noticeable to most people, but it's not acceptable in case you want to have an as-authentic-as-possible equipment. If you remove the chain, you also remove the structural integrity of that edge.

If you want to have a pure wool band without that chain, though, you can take a sufficient length of the weft thread, a needle with a blunt tip and a large enough eye, remove the crochet chain and thread the extra thread through each of the edge loops. It might be advisable to remove the outermost warp thread for that, and to stock up on enough chocolate and motivation-enhancing drinks before.

Fun. Right? Thank goodness there are still some old-fashioned shuttle looms running!

Piccies!

Here are, finally, the long-promised pictures from the last big project - clothing for the newly opened museum at Burg Grünwald, Munich area.

I have not been there yet and have not been able to find photos, but as the museum only re-opened at Easter after extensive work on the castle and a redesign of the exhibition, that is not quite unexpected.

So you are getting the piccies I took before sending off the garments... with kind permission of my (very patient, and very lovely) models.
Let's start close to earth...

 

 ... midnight blue stockings for the lady, held with silk garter bands (braided) that you can't see in the picture (but they are there). That was lovely cloth and a pure joy to work with.

Obviously a lady has to wear more than just stockings - here is the red dress with its yellow silk neckband, and the barbe-and-fillet in the Manesse style.

Another closeup of the buttons on the dress. I just like closeups of these guys.
 

And a closeup of the seam fixing the yellow silk of the neck opening decoration. This cost me a lot more nerves than I had anticipated - but it turned out nice in the end!

Here are both models, completely dressed with the exception of the man's overgarment, which was not finished at that time.

And finally, a few more closeups of the man's purple tunic:

... and one of his hood:

There. It did happen. Picture proven.

It's taxing. Which means... cat pictures.

Every quarter of the year, I have to file some tax stuff... and guess what? It's time for that. Which is... taxing.

Well, it's not that bad, but it will require some coffee, and possibly some chocolate. While I deal with this and with the backlog of emails and writing and stuff so I can finally get caught up (in my wildest dreams, this happens today), why don't you have a few photos?

... a closeup of the fillet in the Manesse-Style:

... and since you all seem to like those buttons as much as I do:

 ... and finally some gratuitous cat pictures. Because I know what the Internet wants (and I confess that I had a need for them as well). 

That was the piccie part.

If you want more to read instead of cat and button pics, there's a list of 550 archaeological blogs over at Archaeologik - in different languages, many of them English.

Also, this Saturday is International Tabletop Day - see the tabletop day webpage if you want to find a game shop or gaming place in your area.

Stuff that you may find relevant. Or at least amusing.

I owe you a chili recipe, and there's actually a sizeable stack of other stuff that I could blog about, but I have the strong urge to blog other stuff today. You will know why in a moment:

Maybe you've heard of Juan de Alcega's "Tailor's Pattern Book" - it's basically a book with instructions how to place your patterns on fabric so that there's as little waste as possible. There seem to be three similar books, also from the 16th century, from Austria - and they are being published as a Kickstarter campaign. (Kickstarter is a really cool thing.)

Also, the Blogging Archaeology Carnival roundup for February is over at Doug's place. It's not that big, this time; a lot of participants seem to have had the same problem with the open question as I had. There's also the last question for the carnival - I'm a bit sad it's already over, I was enjoying this!

Also: Meet a finished sleeve with cloth buttons.

The only thing left to do on this sleeve is pull out the marker basting thread (on the back, for marking where the edge should fall) and the basting thread for making the hem. And I will pull these once the second sleeve is hemmed, too.

Cloth buttons are a lot of work - each time I make these, I think to myself "I so know why buttons were considered a chic thing". But they are also so beautiful... and having a finished piece with buttons, such as that sleeve, that is something really, really nice.

(Just in case you wonder: the white sewing thread used to attach the buttons is invisible when they are closed. They sit smack on the fabric with their little bottoms.)

I will now leave you with a riot of colours. Colours, I might mention, that all live on wool. Except one, who lives on silk. And I am allowed to cut into each of them. Muahahaha.

The picture does not do them justice - they are lovely, and brilliant, and totally awesomely beautiful. At the moment, they make a fluffy stack of joy in our living-room and draw my eye every time I go past them. There's one almost-black and one black to the right, on different cloths; these will become legwear. And the darker orange shade you see to the left? That's a piece of cloth 1.5 m wide and 5 m long. Dyed in one piece. Spotless. No better dyer than Sabine, I tell you.

Moar stuff.

I didn't get around to working on the exact stuff I was planning on yesterday (there's a last fitting control needed, and that did not happen), but I did get a good bit of stuff done. This included some refresher research about the development of trousers from hose, and puzzling over how that happened, and when.

And what the guys in the Manesse Codex probably wore underneath. You see, normally you don't see that. And the codex is dated to the early 14th century, but it depicts clothes that are seemingly more in the traditional style, with long tunics for the men.
So the big question for me is... would they wear something more like the traditional wide underpants, and hose that go only to the middle of the thigh in the back? Or already the shorter, tighter underpants and hose that go up higher? Both would be possible for the early 14th century.

I'm still not decided on this. I have made, however, both an old-style wide "bruoch" and a younger-style shorter one, roughly resembling the underwear shown in the Tacuinum Sanitatis:

Threshing scene from the Tacuinum Sanitatis, c 1365. Picture source: BRUNNER, K. & DAIM, F. (2002) Ritter Knappen Edelfrauen. Das Rittertum im Mittelalter, Frechen, Komet.

As you can see, the underwear is short - both the shirt and the pants, and he's not wearing anything else since he's threshing (thank goodness that was such an itchy and sweaty job, it makes for a good number of pics of guys in deshabillé).

I've based the shirt I made for the Manesse garments roughly on this - the sleeves on my version are a bit longer, and it's cut with a little more ease, and it has no shoulder seams, but the type is the same. So at the moment I'm leaning towards the short version for the pants... but I'm not completely decided yet. I am planning to cut the man's hose tonight, and until then, I have time to think. (Ideas from you, dear readers, or other input are, as always, very welcome.)

Oh, and on a completely different note? There's the smell of damp wool in our bathroom - I finished my socks yesterday, and now am waiting until they are done drying after their inaugural soak. (There was no proper blocking after the soak. There is no proper blocking necessary - the fabric is so firm that nothing happens when they are soaked, except they feel even firmer.)

More from the hood.

Here are, as promised, the other photos from the finished hood. It's placed with the head opening on my demo head - a popular way of wearing hoods in the late middle ages.

The wool is a lightly fulled tabby, dyed with weld (reseda luteola) and a tiny smidgeon of madder (rubia tinctoria). The seams are running stitches, and the seam allowance is folded to one side and secured/neatened with hem stitches, in some places folded apart and secured to both sides of the seam, also with hem stitches.



The cut is oriented on the hoods found in Herjolfsnaes and London, with a shorter "cape" part than, for instance, the Bocksten find hood.

And also: Gratuitous cat pic.

Spring is coming.

The sun is shining outside, and while it's still cool in the morning, it gets warm soon. How wonderful to sit in the sun with some coffee and some pleasant work, and do things!

Before I get to go sit in the sun, though, there are a few books that want my attention. Tea and computer, thus, for now; coffee and sun and comfy chair and sewing stuff, later.

Also? Meet the newly finished hood, made from plant-dyed wool cloth, sewn with linen thread, cut in 14th century style:

Just a detail for now, since the blog refuses to upload the other pics. But hey, you'll get your gratuitous cat pic tomorrow, then!

Friday!

(I just learned something new about blogger: when you insert a post title, then press return... it publishes. Does that mean I'm supposed to write the title after the text? Novel idea!)

I woke up to a gazillion emails this morning. I also woke up to the very nice and accomplished feeling that only the prepared edge for buttons (or button-holes) can bring:

The basted line has come out, in the meantime. The other line is stab stitches (Punktstich, for the Germans). It's a time-consuming stitch, but it makes the firmest, neatest, and most pleasing edge for anything that gets stress - such as button closures.

And that's the back of it. Lovely, innit?

(I am known to freak out in delight about stab stitch edges. Call me weird... but only after you have seen, and touched, a properly made one and did not freak out with delight yourself.)

More Distaff Questions.

As requested in one of yesterday's comments, here is a follow-up post with a little more stuff about the distaff... for the basic explanation about the reconstructed medieval spinning, see also this post.

I am guessing that one takes fibre from the distaff and somehow moves it to the spindle, but I can't tell from this part if you are taking it randomly from any part of cousin It, or if you intend to take it sequentially, in the same order it was placed on the band, or what...

You draft from the distaff, and the flow more or less occurs naturally. I try to work my way along around the distaff, turning it a bit from time to time, so that I don't use up all the fibre on one side first. Otherwise, I don't much care where my fibre supply flows from, as long as it flows easily and evenly.

I am also curious to know how much time this distaff dressing process takes, and how much spinning time one gets from it. I gather from other posts of yours that it used to be that "everyone" used a distaff, but for modern spinners it is not so common to use one (though becoming more common again as more historical reenactors experiment with them?)

I can tell you exactly how long it took me for dressing this one: I snapped the first blurry pic at 13:56 and finished with the Portrait of Cousin Itt at 14:04. That's eight minutes, and I guess that at least three of these minutes were photo time. So in textile work terms, dressing a distaff this way does not take any time at all.
The spinning time you get from it, on the other hand, totally depends on how fast you are spinning and how much fibre you are using up per make (i.e. how thick you are spinning), so I can't tell you. Me, I go a long way with 42 g of fibre.

Modern spinners don't use a distaff, for the most part, because their spinning technique does not technically require them to do so. For the medieval style, however, the distaff is essential and you cannot physically spin without it.

Is there a savings in total time when using a distaff? (e.g. while dressing the distaff takes time, the spinning part goes enough faster as a result of having done so to make it worth it) Is there an improvement in the quality of the spinning (I am guessing "yes", since I imagine that it would be easier to be consistent as to how much fiber is added per second to the spun yarn).

Since spinning in the reconstructed style is not possible otherwise, you might argue that yes, yarn quality is improved ; )
Joking aside, what really does take time and has a big influence on yarn quality and ease of spinning is the fibre preparation. The five minutes (even if it were fifteen minutes, same applies) for dressing a distaff are really next to nothing compared to the time needed for spinning a substantial amount of medium-fine to fine yarn, and preparing the fibre to accommodate this. Spinning quality hangs on the quality of the fibre prep and the spinner's skill. If you muck up in dressing the distaff by wrapping it too firmly, for example, or too loosely, this is easily and quickly remedied, and there is quite a bit of leeway in how it needs to be; you just need enough friction between the held fibres to make drafting possible.
If you had mucked up in prepping your fibre, though, not the best distaff-dressing in the world will make that better.





The distaff is, essentially, your third hand for spinning - the one holding your fibre and helping you draft. And just like a real hand, if it holds only crap... it will give you that same stuff it holds. You have a say in how firmly it holds on to its stuff, though, depending how you dress it.

Any more distaff-related questions, folks?

More Manesse, and barbette-and-fillet thoughts.

Yesterday's post brought up a question in the comments regarding whether the fillet with the pie-crust edge was closed on top or not... good question.

Personally, I tend to see all of the fillets as open on top unless I can clearly see otherwise. That is possibly due just to a personal quirk, but my reasoning is: You don't really need it closed on top for stability (stiff linen holds up just fine even without an inlay of leather, or felt, or whatnot), and it's easier to adjust in size if you don't close it. So you can have a strip of linen that you tack together or even just hold together with a needle in the back, and if your hair changes or your hairstyle changes or you have a thicker barbette... adjusting the size is no big deal. Also it saves material.

There is one non-typical fillet in the codex Manesse that shows, very clearly, a non-closed version:

(fol. 11v, or page 18)

I have also tended to see the little darker area on top of this fillet as the top of the head peeking through:

(fol. 32v)

The only closed headdress find I know is one from Villach-Judendorf; that one has, however, no pie crust and consists instead of gold-brocaded narrow ware. Beautiful - but quite different from the Manesse versions.

Finally, while there is no picture of b-and-f in the Manesse clearly showing the top of the head peeking through, there is also none clearly showing a fabric top. And there are quite a few pictures clearly showing the fillet as just a strip, such as this one:

(pic out of HÄGERMANN, D. (Ed.) (2001) Das Mittelalter. Die Welt der Bauern, Bürger, Ritter und Mönche., RM Buch und Medien.; late 13th c, England).



That's my thoughts about the question hat or band as fillet - I'd be happy to hear your opinion, and the reasons for your arriving there!

The Manesse thing.

If you have looked at late-medieval pictures from Germany, chances are high that you have seen some from the Manesse Codex (completely online here, courtesy of Uni Heidelberg).

There's an iconic version of the female headdress of the barbette-and-fillet type in there, showing a wavy upper part. Like this:

(That's from fol. 32 v. Lots more to be found in the manuscript.)

I have heard about many different ways for a possible reconstruction of this wavy upper edge, and have seen a lot of interpretations - ranging from textiles woven with a ruffled edge, sewn-on ruches and ruffles to bands folded down and pleated, to an attached cord. It's perfectly possible that all these kinds of achieving a wavy edge were in use back then, but personally I have never seen a version that really convinced me.

Recently, I have added another interpretation to the mix - this one:

It's all linen (though it would be possible to make it with a stiff enough silk fabric), and the ruffled edge is made from the same fabric as the main part of the fillet. I think it might be possible to tickle it into even more similarity with the Manesse depiction, but for now, I am not unhappy with the visual impression...

Dear Internets...

Dear Internets,

a goodly while ago, I was a very happy woman because I found a picture. Those of you who have been researching stuff and looked for helpful pictorial sources will know exactly what I mean with that. (For those of you who don't: Imagine finding a winning lottery ticket that buys you a lovely evening out with your loved ones.)

I found a picture of a textile-related contraption. It was perfect bliss.

And then I did the Stupidest Thing Ever to do with sources just found. Those of you who have been researching stuff will probably know exactly what that is. The STE is the following thought: "Oh wow, finally! This is very good. And now I know where to find this source. I WILL BE ABLE TO REMEMBER WHERE IT IS." followed by the corresponding action, as in not writing down in at least one place where one can reliably find the info again where it was. Or marking the book. Or both. Plus, maybe, adding a few hundred more notes in other places.

I did one little test run with something cobbled together very vaguely resembling the basic concepts of that contraption. It seemed to work. I put it away to do some more research and test driving and planning to eventually do a reconstruction.
Then, things happened just like they tend to do: Stuff came up, stuff had to be dealt with, stuff was dealt with, more stuff came up, the projects in the drawer stayed in the drawer.

All that must have been more than a year ago in the meantime, and I cannot find that picture again. So it's time for me to bleg for some help - maybe you have seen the picture (or a similar one).

The contraption was for weaving tape (ribbon, band, narrow-wares) with a rigid heddle. It was basically a board lying on a table, the rigid heddle firmly set onto that board at about the front, and behind it with some space between them was a short upright round piece of wood. The warp was wound around that upright dowel and ran through the heddle; the woman weaving held the band (obviously moving it up and down to change shed) in one hand and shuttle and/or other tools in the other hand. I think the already finished band was also wound around a dowel that she held in her hand.
That's what I really remember (or am quite sure about). The rest of it? I think she was blonde, sitting with mostly her back turned toward the viewer, in the foreground of the picture, and I think she was wearing a green dress. It's having a late-medieval feel in my memory, and it may or may not have been a depiction of Mary.

So, dear Internets, I would be so, so happy if you could help me find that piccie. Because you know, yesterday I set down and fiddled with something prototype-like, and it totally works and is lovely to work with... and I'd so love to compare with the picture before I do a final version.

Hairnets.

For years now, one of the almost forgotten techniques that are dear to my heart is (filet) netting. If you've seen one of those dainty, almost-nonexistent hairnets in the medieval part of a museum exhibition? Those are made by netting.

Contrary to what some people think (and some write), this is not the knot and the technique used for making fishnets. It's a different tool, a different method, and a different result - fine, small-meshed nets that can be used as hairnets as is or embellished with embroidery.

To keep the technique from dying out, I've tried to do my part - I sell the filet needles (replicas after a find from 14th century London), I demonstrate netting, and I teach the technique. Since many visitors do not know what that peculiar double-eyed needle is for, I usually place a finished hairnet close to the netting needle in my stall.

And occasionally, I will get The Question. The Question is a variation of "Do you make these for sale?" or "How much is such a net?" and is hard to answer - because most of my demonstration hairnets are ones that I used to try out a new technique, or material, or embellishment (like the ones with the pearls). Some of the work time was also clocked during demonstrations or at events, and you never work full speed on events, due to all kinds of distractions. That means that even though I recorded the time needed, it's not the realistic time for making one simple full net with suitable material, in the surroundings of the home workshop.

Netting needle eyes.

This has happened more often lately, so I have set out to do exactly that: Make a reference net of sturdy, white silk thread, in 4 mm mesh, aiming for the finished measurements of the late 13th century hairnet from London. I have started out yesterday, and I've about finished the crown part - next will be the interesting bit of doubling the number of mesh. (This, together with the start, is one of the fiddly bits in making a hairnet in the round.)

The clock is running. A hairnet, let me tell you, is not a thing made in an hour or so... it takes its sweet chunk of time. I'm not sure on whether it will be saleable, as it is - I have been pondering some alternatives to making it completely by hand, in order to offer a more affordable variation, but that will need some more planning.

If you have considered getting a hairnet, or have made one yourself, I would be happy to hear your input - such as how much you would be willing to pay for a (completely handmade) net, or how long it took you to make yours. Cheers!

Food, Games, Old Norse, and Daleks.

First of all, food: There's a new transcribed recipe on Medieval Cookery, so if you've always wondered how you should cook your Bruet of Almayne - here are several options.

Good food is one of the ingredients for a nice evening of games with friends - if you are looking for a nice medieval-style game board for backgammon and nine men's morris, take a look at Niklas' latest blogpost (in German, but there are pics).

If you're rather looking for a more intellectual pastime, maybe you would prefer to learn the language of the Vikings? There's a new book out there to teach you Old Norse and Runes, with a second volume for deepening your knowledge and reading skills forthcoming soon. (You can also look at samples from the book here.)

Speaking of books and Vikings, Marianne Vedeler has a new book coming out titled "Silk for the Vikings". It's available for pre-order at Oxbow books.

And if this has totally stressed you out now, and you need to relax, the Daleks will help you:

Fashion stuff.

Fashion, anyone? Here are a few links for those of you who are in the mood for some more-or-less modern clothing (hey, it was all the rage just a few hundred years ago!)

Some Icelandic clothing, including a collar (modern-ish) and a hood (medieval-ish).

Anyone who has been looking at early modern clothes or fashion in Germany will be familiar with the Trachtenbuch of Matthäus Schwarz. There has been some work done with it recently, including the recreation of some of the items - there's a BBC article here and a blog post, with a video about the making of one of the outfits. There's more links in the blog post, too.

A prehistoric fashion show will be part of the Humanities Festival in London. (Here's the official press piece about that, with two pics - but no mention of a date.)

Experimental Archaeology at Wall Street!

Well... at least in the Wall Street Journal.

Janet Stephens, a professional hairdresser, has researched and tried to re-model Roman hairstyles (the ones often said to have been wigs). I have personally never really bought into that theory, so I'm very happy to see that someone has managed to do it on non-wig hair (and is also quite sure it can be done normally).

Go read the lovely little article about the Roman hairdressing (also because it involves needles and thread).

Meanwhile, I will be here and very happy about the bit where a journal editor says that this was something that needed a craftsperson, and that no normal scholar would have written such a piece as the article published in 2008, "Ancient Roman Hairdressing: On (Hair)Pins and Needles."(Published in the Journal of Roman Archaeology, in case you now really want that.)

The Spinning Wheel!

Finally, all things necessary have come together: The wood that I need, the machines and tools that I need, and the lovely upstairs neighbour with time on his hands to show me how to use the machines. So on the weekend, I started work on the new wool wheel.

As German strategist von Moltke once said, "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy" - I have already made some changes to the plan that I drew in meticulous work. The board that will carry all the rest of the wheel has gotten somewhat slimmer (so that it could fit into the planing machine), and it's not all even (though that does not bother me a bit), and it's about 5 cm shorter than intended originally. But all that is no big deal, since the plan was more or less drawn after a Psalter illumination and part of the plan was to adjust as necessary.

In addition to the wheel, and in some way also to practice some of the procedures, I am also planning to build a crossbar-and-post tablet weaving "loom", which means a run to the hardware store today. And the loom will come in very, very handy for my latest weaving project which will also travel with me to the RGZM in two weeks. Fortunately, the thing is an utterly simple affair... rendered even simpler by my planning on how to build it.

14th century Bergen has become virtual reality!

There has been a project resulting in the virtual reconstruction of 1350 Bergen in Norway. If you can read Norwegian, you might be interested in the official accompanying page here. There's even a .pdf on that page about the basis for the reconstruction - brilliant!
If you don't read Norwegian (or don't feel like it) and only want to see the film, you can do it right here:



(or follow it over to its home on youtube, where you can watch it in much bigger).

Chess Players

I just realised that I somehow never got around to posting pictures of the chess-playing couple that I made for Hartenstein - so here you go, a few photos...

Closeup of the buttons on the blue dress (worn beneath the short-sleeved pink dress):

The man getting dressed. If you don't put the arms in first, it won't work, so they inevitably look like colourful pancakes with arms in at some point:

The lady getting dressed (you can see her knees in the background):

Last touchups on the fully dressed lady:

 Travelling to their new home in the car:

And sitting in their new spot at the museum:

I really like how those two turned out, and I'm still totally in love with the idea of showing a couple in a game of chess - showing a medieval pastime, a game, male and female clothing at once, and all that together with an intimate and romantic touch. Now I hope the people at the museum will also like it as much!

I will let you know when they will be officially made part of the museum and on view for the public, which will be very soon probably.