Competing with the Ice Dragon

I have a love-hate relationship with competition.

Sure, I love to win, but I don't take criticism well (it tends to stop my progress in its tracks, even if it's well-meant and constructive), which is a failing of mine.

However, since this is a hard thing for me, I did put it on my list of goals, and therefore, I have now accomplished it by entering the Ice Dragon Pentathlon last weekend.
 

The Festival of the Passing of the Ice Dragon is an early-spring SCA event in Buffalo every year, which features both large amounts of Fencing and Heavy Fighting, and an Arts and Sciences Pentathlon competition.

You can enter things in one or more categories in the Pent, but the idea is to enter in five categories. Each category is scored separately, and has its own winner, but the judges then tally up the entries of those who entered in five categories, and there is an overall Pentathlon winner. This person may or may not have placed first in all or even any of the categories they entered.

I have entered the Pent three times over eight years.

The first time I entered, it was with a purple raw-silk cotehardie with cotton floss celtic knotwork embroidery on the collar. I stayed up all night finishing the embroidery (thus setting the tone for my SCA future). I didn't have documentation, because I hate doing documentation, and at the time I had no idea it was required (I'm not sure anyone said it was required, actually).
I don't have any memory of how well I did score-wise, but the comments were anonymous and nasty. One person commented that they weren't going to bother scoring it because I hadn't included documentation. Though I had been involved in the SCA for about ten years at that point, and so while I was upset, I wasn't tempted to quit. If I had been new, that would have been my last event.

The second time I knew more of what I was doing, and included documentation (maybe not great documentation, but something, anyway). I entered three items with two cross-entries: a particolored cotehardie (proper, this time) with embroidery and hand-made cloth buttons, a scroll I had made for my husband's knighting with Mongolian lettering and a stamp, and some wool I had drop-spun.

The commentary was better that time (they had been working hard with the judges to improve it), and I think I scored better that time as well.
I still left feeling icky about my work, which was more upsetting because I felt my purpose in life was art and handcrafts, and was very unused to having my work in those areas criticized. As I said, it's a personal failing.
I determined after that entry that I did not have the temperament to enter competitions, and so I just didn't. It's been six years since that event.

So here I am, having come out of the third time entering the Pent.
I'm a lot more okay with it than I was last time. Maybe it's personal growth, maybe it's just that I went into it expecting not to do well, so I wasn't disappointed. It could also be that I did much better in a couple of categories than I have before.
For reference, the ribbons are: yellow: last place, green: third place, red: second place, blue: first place (this is based on number ranges, not on a comparison with others--I have no idea how I ranked compared to others in these categories).



I entered four items, one cross-entered.
1) My boqtaq, which I've been posting about recently: red ribbon

2) The cochineal dyeing I did for the boqtaq: green ribbon

3) My houppelande: green ribbon

4) My birgitta cap (embroidery): blue ribbon

5) My Black Hours scroll: green ribbon

I got some good commentary, and a lot of lovely little tokens. People leave tokens if they like a piece, whether or not they are judging it. My personal tokens are little porcelain discs with a stamp made of strawberry leaves and my first initial, glazed in green, made by my friend Honnoria, who is an amazing ceramicist.


   


I know I fell down on some of the documentation:
My documentation for the Black Hours scroll was basically just a link to the piece I based it on, and a description of the way I made it. If I'd really wanted to do well, I would have used dyed parchment and shell gold instead of gold ink and black paper, and I would have done a bit more research into the source material.
My documentation for the Birgitta Cap was mostly internet sources, and the one non-internet source I used was in Swedish, which I barely read. I was trusting the readings of the people who had made it before me.
The documentation notes for the Boqtaq and the Houppelande were taken directly from my class notes, and modified. I did this at the last minute, so especially with regards to the Houppelande, I could have done a better job.
I had removed all the references to techniques I hadn't actually used in the construction of that piece, but it seems some of the judges would have preferred to see the options. I also didn't include any mention of the specifics of my piece, such as the lining of the sleeves and the fur collar.


There was one thing I wanted to respond to, though, which was a comment on the Boqtaq that I should have used more period decoration.
I didn't talk about the beadwork in the documentation (clearly I should have), but I don't know why the judge thought it wasn't period. I used pearls and coral, both of which were available and prized by Mongols in period. The beadwork in the paintings uses both of those materials, as does the beadwork on the headdress I included in the notes. The only potentially modern bit on it was some thin brass leaf-charms (partly used because I had a lot of them around, and partly because I use leaves as my tokens), which, though modern, could certainly have been made in period. Mongols worked in brass a lot.

Khalkha plait covers, coral and pearl, Bogdo Khan Residential Museum

That's probably the one real gripe I have about the Pent, and it's not a huge one, really. I understand that it is really hard to get everyone in the same place at the same time. People want to fence or fight and also enter or judge the Pent. People want to socialize and also do one or more things. To require judges and entrants to be there the whole day would be a lot to ask.
That said, I really appreciate things like the display at Pennsic, where you are often expected to sit with your work all day and talk to people about it. Of course, at Pennsic it's two weeks, and you can skip your other activities for four to six hours to sit in a display and not miss much.
That's a lot harder at a one day, multi-focal event like this one.

So, while I would have preferred to get the chance to talk face-to-face with the judges and defend my choices, I also was pleased to not have to sit in a room all day long.

A friend of mine told me today that I had come in second in the Pent. I was not expecting that at all. I don't know if there will be a fourth time, but I can honestly say I feel better about this competition than I ever have before, and that's a plus.

Cookies!

Recently I revisited the list, and, in an effort to continue progress, looked at what could be completed with minimal effort, what required a specific person or event to be completed, and what was probably out of my league for now.

Top of the list was Springerle.

I've wanted to learn to make Springerle for many years, since I first tried them at Pennsic, courtesy of Goode Cookys, who were selling them for a couple of years.
My taste for them was encouraged by the gift that Master Huen of Damebrigge made to AEthelmearc Royal for several years in a row, of boxes of Escarbuncle Springerle, which are as beautiful and patriotic as they are delicious.
They were the main snack at my husband's sudden Pennsic knighting vigil.

I've been put off by the fact that making Springerle requires molds, which are often fairly to very expensive. Last year I bought a Springerle mold at Pennsic, relatively cheaply, with a cutter that matches it. It's a Celtic Knot, which I also find appropriate for the fact that I'm posting this on Saint Patrick's Day!


I bought the Springerle Starter Kit from House on the Hill,who specialize in Springerle molds and supplies, and was on my way.

First a little background:
Springerle are a type of molded hard cookie from the area around Germany. They originated sometime around the 14th century, per wikipedia, making them well within our period of study.
They are a close relation of the Dutch Speculaas, which are made at the Sinterklaas festival (Saint Nicholas Day, Dec. 6), and usually feature windmills. The main difference is that Springerle are made with flavoring oils and hartshorn (a predecessor of baking powder), and Speculaas
are made with cinnamon and cloves and baking powder.

Springerle and Speculaas molds are made of wood, usually fruit wood, but almost always hard wood. They can be typical cookie-sized (2-3" diameter) or up to 2 or 3 feet in diameter for the really fancy ones. Many people use a Springerle rolling pin, which has multiple designs that get rolled into the cookies, and then you can use a knife to separate them.

Hartshorn is baker's ammonia, and was formerly made with ground deer horn (hart=adult male deer).
Because we generally don't use hartshorn anymore, it is not easy to find. The kit I bought contained a very small packet of hartshorn and a very small bottle of oil of anise, as well as a recipe.

I opened the package, and was immediately taken aback by the smell. I knew that hartshorn was a leavening agent, but I hadn't known the chemical composition, and was not prepared for it to smell like the strong ammonia they use as smelling salts in hospitals!
Luckily, the smell dissipates after a bit, so I let the package breathe, and then took out the components, letting each one sit for a bit before opening it further.
My historical baking friends assured me that the scent does not affect the taste or smell of the cookies--it bakes off. This is apparently only true for cookies and crackers, because the thicker the dough, the longer it takes to bake off. The recipe warned not to eat the dough.

The next surprise was how very much powdered sugar and cake flour is in this recipe. It takes a whole container of each.

The dough-making was rough on the shoulders, because it is such a stiff dough that mixing the last of the flour and powdered sugar in is really hard. I think that if I were doing it by hand instead of with a mixer for the most part, I would be exhausted by the end.

On the plus side, once the dough is done and rests a bit, it rolls like a dream, and the impression of the stamp is beautiful.


I started by stamping the cookies and then cutting them out, but that turned out to be a mistake. My cutter is slightly larger than the stamp, so there I was, trying to be frugal with the dough as I'd been taught, and when I went to cut the cookies, there wasn't enough room between. After the first batch, I ended up stamping and then cutting as I went, to make sure it worked.

The recipe warned that they yield is tied to how thinly you roll the cookies, and what size mold you use. I was using a 3" round mold, rolled mine about 1/4" thick, and got about 180 cookies.

Once cut, the cookies had to dry overnight. There was my next mistake. I commonly skim recipes and that results in missing information, which usually means going to the grocery store in the middle of cooking. This time I missed two things: I made them late at night, which meant that when I went to bake them in the morning it had only been a few hours, rather than the 24 recommended. I also didn't turn them over in the middle of the drying process, so the bottoms were not dry.

I baked the first batch for 30 minutes, went to take them out and found that the bottoms were still doughy, and if I took a bite, it was dough all through, with a slight crust on top. I put them back in for another 30 minutes. Not much change.
The first batch ended up taking 3 hours, and the second batch (which I turned over as soon as I realized what was going on, didn't bake until late afternoon, and then turned up the heat a bit) took about 1 1/2 hours.

You can tell which ones are from which batch: the first batch is a little tan on the inside, where the second batch is white all through.


They taste fine, although they are hard as rocks, so need to be dunked in liquid to be eaten safely (my toddler likes to gnaw on them, though).

I couldn't eat them until 24 hours later, though, because my life was so saturated with anise scent that day that eating a strongly flavored anise cookie was just not okay.

In the future, I would like to try other flavors and maybe colors and stamps, and I would like to consult with Master Huen on the potential differences between the medieval recipe, the recipe he uses, and what I used. His cookies are always soft in the middle, but not doughy, and I'd like to figure out how to achieve that.

Two More Updates

Because I'm on a role!

A new scroll in the style of the Black Hours inspired by this.

I would still like to do Squashed Bug some time, but I really enjoyed this, and it seemed appropriate.
Many thanks to my friend Katrusha, of this blog, for sending me to this site for inspiration. I know extremely little about Comedia dell'Arte (other than having seen some), but I have a real love for making scrolls that fit with peoples' personae and interests.
If only I'd remembered to send the silver pen with the scroll...

I will also be working to finish off two (and hopefully) more of my goals in the next few months:
I will enter my boqtaq in the Ice Dragon Pentathlon, thereby fulfilling goal of entering an A&S Competition with full documentation, and I am planning (hoping) to teach the combined Butter and Cheese class with Lidia at AEcademy, since it is super-local to me this summer. Maybe I can talk Artemius into teaching bead-making again, even though I blew his class off at 3 Ravens to finish sleeping and making my hat.

And last (but not remotely least), I have formalized my relationship with my dear friend and second mother, Mistress Sadira. She is now my Laurel, and I am her Apprentice. Yay!

For those unfamiliar with the SCA, we have four peerages (at the moment, and there is some discussion of a fifth, but that is another topic which has no real bearing here): Knights, Laurels, Pelicans, and Royal Peers (County and Duchy). These are basically the top of a chain of awards in three different areas, martial arts (knight), arts and sciences (laurel), and service (pelican).
Royal Peers are a whole other kettle of fish, also less than relevant here.

The royalty of one's kingdom decides who gets which awards, with some help from the other recipients of some of those awards, and gives them out at events.
Most people take between 10 and 20 years to attain a peerage, and many never do.
If you become a Knight, Laurel, and/or Pelican, you are encouraged to take students on formally (many want to publicize this arrangement for a number of reasons, so it is often done in court so everyone can see).

Every relationship is different: some have one at a time, some have many (my husband has five, but intends to have 9, I think); some expect specific things of their students, others are just there for advice and moral support. It is a little like gaining a family, if your peer has other students.
A Knight's students are his or her Squires, a Pelican's students are his or her Protegees, and a Laurel's students are his or her Apprentices.
They wear tokens and/or colored belts to denote their status as a student and their attachment to their peer. Typically, squires wear red belts, protegees wear yellow belts, and apprentices wear green belts.

If your peer has multiple peerages (mine, for instance, is both a Laurel and a Pelican, which is somewhat common), you may be a student of both or either discipline. I chose to be an Apprentice because the Arts are where I have the most interest, and feel like I need the most guidance.
I imagine I will learn something about service from Mistress Sadira as well, but the art was more important to me.

My attitude towards peerages is complicated. I have granted some, and so I have been privy to the conversations of the orders in my kingdom, as well as made the decisions myself (with help from my husband, and the order, of course). I have never been granted one other than the Royal kind, which is, as I said, another kettle of fish.
I tend to feel that in the SCA you should do what you love because it is what you love, and not so that you will get a fancy award and get to swan around in the regalia. However, I will not deny that I would like to be a peer someday, so it's a little hard to judge others for feeling that way.

The problem with doing something to get the award is that when you have it, you don't tend to continue doing the thing for which you were awarded. That, to me, is a failure of the award system.
Some also see the peer/student relationship as a step towards getting the peerage, because one's peer is meant to advocate for one in order meetings.

I would prefer a relationship in which my peer only talks about me if she really thinks I deserve it, and not because my advancement is her responsibility. I trust my peer in that regard, because I'm pretty sure we agree on this philosophy.

I also have not entered into this because I want the peerage, but because I know that I am a lazy-butt with my research and often with my projects, and I procrastinate horribly, and I'd like the kick in the pants.

The Hat: Mongolian Haberdashery Take 2

Now that I'm almost out of things I've already done, the posts are getting less frequent.

I mentioned in my last post that I was making a boqtaq from scratch, and I have now done so.
If you missed my post on what the heck a boqtaq is, here is the relevant information.

I had researched and made a boqtaq last year, which was passable, but really didn't quite have the right shape, and definitely didn't have the right attachment to the head.
One of my major goals for this challenge is to make one properly, from birch bark and silk.
Of course, once you start the accuracy ball rolling, projects just get larger and larger.
First it was just birch bark, then it was silk and dyeing the silk red with cochineal. I haven't quite gotten to the point of raising silk worms and peacocks as I'd threatened briefly, but close.

My deadline for this project leads me to another goal I have now completed, teaching a brand new class: The Boqtaq: Like Wearing a Boot On Your Head, which I taught at The College of Three Ravens in my local SCA barony, last Saturday.

The following is the adapted version of the class notes.
 

The Boqtaq: Like Wearing a Boot On Your Head

The boqtaq was worn by Mongolian noblewomen from at least the 13^th century onwards. It features in portraits of many of the Mongol Khatuns (Empresses), especially those in the Chinese portion of the Empire. 

Chabi, Empress of Kublai Khan

It was about 12”-3’ high, round at the bottom and square on top, and attached to the head by a secondary hat which more resembles the headdresses of the lower classes.

For the purposes of reference, a cubit or an ell is about 18” long.

“(the boghta is) of birch-bark, some two feet high. This they generally cover with a black woolen stuff; but some of the richer women use red silk. The end is like a duck.”

-Li Chih-Chang, 1222

“On their head they have a round thing made of twigs or bark, which is an ell in height and ends on top in a square; it gradually increases in circumference from the bottom to the top, and on the top there is a long and slender cane of gold or silver or wood, or even a feather, and it is sewn on to a cap which reaches to the shoulders.

The cap as well as this object is covered with buckram, velvet or brocade, and without this headgear they never go into the presence of men, and by it they are distinguished from other women.”

-Jon Plano of Carpini, 1245

“Furthermore they have a head-dress, which they call bocca, made of bark, or such other light material as they can find, and it is big and as much as two hands can span around, and is a cubit and more high, and square like the capital of a column. This bocca they cover with costly silk stuff, and it is hollow inside, and on top of the capital, or the square on it, they put a tuft of quills or light canes also a cubit or more in length. And this tuft they ornament at the top with peacock feathers, and round the edge (of the top) with feathers from the mallard’s tail, and also with precious stones. The wealthy ladies wear such an ornament on their heads, and fasten it down tightly with an amess, for which there is an opening in the top for that purpose, and inside they stuff their hair, gathering it together on the back of the tops of their heads in a kind of knot, and putting it in the bocca, which they afterwards tie down tightly under the chin. So it is that when several ladies are riding together, and one sees them from afar, they look like soldiers, helmets on heads and lances erect. For this bocca looks like a helmet, and the tuft above it is like a lance.”

-William of Rubruck, 1255 

“Saray Mulk Khanim (chief wife of Timur Khan) was dressed in red silk, her face covered by a white veil. She wore a complex headdress, fashioned from red fabric ornamented with pearls, rubies, turquoise, feathers, and held together with gold wire. As she moved forward, the tall headdress swayed with each step.”

-Ruy Gonzales de Clavijo, 1404

Because the writings we have to document this are mostly from the writings of visiting outsiders and from pictures, it is not easy to tell what it signified or why it was shaped in that way.

Taji, sister in law of Temur Khan

It has been suggested, especially recently, that the European hennin, popular in the early 15^th century in Western Europe, was inspired by the boqtaq.

By the timing it seems possible, and yet, I would question it. We know that Europeans had the accounts above to draw from, however, as far as we know, there is no proof that anyone in Europe ever saw a boqtaq up close. I also question whether European women would have wanted to imitate the Mongolian women, since they often saw Mongols as murderous barbarians.

We have several extant examples of boqtaqs, but they are flattened and not very well preserved. It is nearly impossible to tell how they were constructed from these, except in terms of what materials were used.

We know they were made mostly of birch-bark frames, with fabric, often silk, covering them.

We can tell from the portrait of Chabi, the approximate size and shape, and how it is attached (to a point, there is much speculation involved). The portrait of Taji shows the band around her head as transparent, and therefore you can see what’s going on underneath.

Based on headdresses collected in the early 20^th century by Henning Haslund-Christensen, and kept in the National Museum of Denmark, I have extrapolated that the base for the boqtaq is probably similar to the basic bead-hanging headdress still common in Mongolia today.

Method

I bought a 4 foot square piece of Siberian birch bark, and soaked it overnight.

I decided not to go with a 2 foot tall hat, because I’m fairly sure that Chabi’s is shorter than that, and the taller ones can get very unwieldy. The one I had made before was about a foot high, and it was a little wobbly at times.

I used a yogurt container as a reference for the size of the base.

I tried to cut a 1 foot tall by 11” wide piece with the intention of shaping it into a cylinder at the bottom and bending it into corners at the top to create the square shape. Unfortunately, possibly due to not enough soaking time, when I scored the bark to make the bends, a large piece broke out between the two bends.

At this point I weighed my options and tried two different theories.

One would have been a cylinder with four trapezoids sewed onto it, and then to each other. I cut and formed those pieces, but did not sew them together, because a better idea occurred to me.

I cut one piece 11” x12”, made two scores on the bark side at 3 ½” in from either side, 8” down from the top, and bent them gently at right angles. I then used clamps and string to hold them into 3 sides of a rectangle at the top, and wrapped the bottom with string around a wine bottle.

I cut a third piece, 4” by 8” triangle, and flattened it overnight.

I let these dry.

I drilled holes in all the pieces at the attachment points, and used waxed thread to sew the pieces together. I decided to concentrate on the second design, especially given the tendency of the bark to split unexpectedly. I ended up just dealing with one split, and sewing up some of the others.

I used two clamps and a piece of wood for the top shaping, and a wine bottle for the bottom. After 36 hours it was mostly dry, and could dry the rest of the way without the support system.

Because the bark portion was a little lumpy, especially along the seams, I covered it with a layer of cotton batting. I believe that the Mongols would have used wool felt, but I didn’t have time to make some of my own, and batting was available and cheap (I did use 100% cotton, though). If one wanted to justify it, Mongols did have access to cotton, although it probably wouldn’t have been as processed as this was.

Before covering the hat with two layers of red silk, I embroidered the silk with pearl and coral beads (having learned from the last time that embroidery should happen before attaching the fabric), and left plenty of space around the diameter of the hat. I then used a doll-making stitch to secure the fabric together, trimmed the top and bottom, and hemmed them.

Finally, I made a flap for the top of the hat, and sewed it on. It is easier to see the shape of this flap in some of the later illustrations, rather than in Chabi’s. It appears to be a rectangle, the width of the top of the hat (front to back), and about 3” longer on either side. It also appears to be tacked down on both sides. 

This makes sense to me from my experiences wearing the first version--in high winds the flaps like to float around.

I made a tonsure-shaped cap out of red wool, 4” in width, and curved. I used a weaving stitch to put it together because I felt the more room I had the better. I then covered it with one  layer of red silk.

I made a long strip out of wool felt (commercially made), and covered it with black linen. I will eventually re-cover this with black silk.

I speculated, since none of the portraits show the back of the hat, that the black strip around the chin is also the same piece as the two black ribbons down the back of the hat. These are trimmed with pearls at the ends. I chose to recreate this by making a black strip long enough to go around my head under the chin, cross at the top, and hang down past my shoulders in front.

I then posit that the red silk piece goes on top of this, and is pinned to it, making the hat more secure. The hat, I believe, is attached to the red silk piece with the triangular pearl embroidered pieces shown in all of the portraits. I think the pearls are attached to something a little stronger (more fabric, or leather perhaps), which would hold the hat in place. The red silk piece extends the hat further onto the head, making it even more secure.

One of the descriptions of the boqtaq mentioned the feathers being inserted into a tube in the hat. I chose to use a goose quill I had around (for scribal, but I’ve never figured out how to use it, so why not?). I trimmed three peacock feathers until they fit into the quill together, and then chopped the hollow part of the quill off of the rest of the feather, and sewed it into the back of the hat between the fabric and the bark.

What I Learned

One of the best things about teaching a new class is that you learn so much from the students. When I tried the hat on for the first time in class (because I only finished the strap beadwork five minutes before class, thank you, procrastination :)), it was very wobbly.
We then spent most of the rest of the class talking about how the attachment might work better.

• The strap is probably not one piece, but at least two and maybe three. 
• One piece probably is attached to the front of the hat with a brooch (instead of the cloth triangles I used) in the front, and goes under the chin. 
• One piece is probably attached to the bottom of the back of the hat, and may tie underneath the veil. This would be similar to the back of the traditional headdress.
• There may also be a hat pin that goes through the hat, caps on the other side, and goes through a mass of hair on the inside of the hat. I hadn't remembered the quote that the women tied their hair on top of their heads and inserted the hat over the top. This form of attachment makes a lot of sense.
• My dear friend Baroness Mistress Daedez of the Dark Horde Moritu reminded me of the story of the boqtaq, in which a group of Mongolian women have to defend their homeland, and so ride out like men, and are awarded the boots of their enemies, which they wear proudly ever after. This may or may not actually describe the reason for the hat shape, but it is a good thing to know.
• I think if I were to do it again (which I probably won't), I would make the front triangle wider to make the shape more exaggerated. It looks mostly right, but it could be wider.

References

Boyer, Martha Hagensen and Ida Nicolaisen. Mongol Jewelry: Jewelry Collected by the First and Second Danish Central Asian Expeditions. London: Thames and Hudson. 1995

Daalder, Truus. Ethnic Jewellery and Adornment. New York: Macmillan Art Publishing. 2009

Dawson, Christopher. The Mongol Mission: Narratives and Letters of the Franciscan missionaries in Mongolia and China in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. New York: Sheed and Ward, Inc., 1955. Print.

Lane, George. Daily Life in the Mongol Empire. Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2006. Print.

Roxburgh, David J. “Ruy Gonzalez de Clavijo’s Narrative of Courtly Life and Ceremony in Timur’s Samarqand, 1404.” The Book of Travels; Genre Ethnology and Pilgrimage, 1250-1700. Ed. Palmira Brummett. Leiden: Kononklijke Brill NV, 2009. 

Weatherford, Jack. The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire. New York: Broadway Books, 2010. Print.

Ordos Tribe Married Woman’s Headdress and Ear Pendants, Qing Dynasty, c. 1900, Art Institute of Chicago. Web, 11 February 2014.

Mongolian Women’s Costumes, c. 1936-37, collected by Henning Haslund-Christensen, National Museum of Copenhagen, Denmark. Web, 11 February 2014.

Some very nice pictures of boqtaq finds from Mistress Aleea Bagah, which I haven’t been able to locate recently, and so cannot comment on the provenance.