Part 2: Cutting the Hide

So there I was with my spiffy new pattern and two massive bison hides, and it was time to lay out the pattern, and cut the coat. Oh the terror and reluctance. A bison hide is a complete, beautiful piece of nature's art all on its own. How to even think about marring the existing flow and lines by cutting it? It was beautiful in the way a sheet of patterned blown glass is beautiful. I still have sheets of glass I bought over 30 years ago to use in stained glass projects that I haven't been able to cut because they are so exquisite just as they are and I have not not been able to see a way to make them even more. Then there were the technical considerations.

Typically, to layout a pattern and cut a garment, you lay the fabric lengthwise down the table. Then you start at the top (one of the short edges) and put down the pieces one after another making sure to align the grain of the fabric and the grainline on the pattern. Bison does not have grain in the way woven fabric does. And it's nap--the direction of  the fur, the direction you pet a dog or cat unless you want to piss them off--doesn't run in a straight line along the length of the hide. It radiates out from an area on the top of the hump. This directionality makes sense as one of the functions of the fur is to shed rain and the nap is the mechanism that does that. And there were more things to take into account like the variations in length, texture, and color of the fur. And the variations were not just between the two hides, but within each one. The area around the legs had long, coarse, straight, black, guard hair. The hump fur was long but not as long as around the legs, very thick, but finer, and it was a little wavy, mid-brown, and gold tipped. Vast swaths of flank and shoulder had soft, short, light espresso-colored, non-directional curls--and then there were the combination areas. 

So how to cut the pattern so that not only would both sides match, but also so that there would be flow and continuity between the pieces on either side of the seams (e.g. sleeve to front and back, back to front, facing to front, collar to back, etc.,)? The answer: very, very carefully. I painstakingly laid out every piece and imagined how each would look when sewn to the others. Then I moved them around, tweaking the image in my head to match the new layout. I wanted to emphasize the upper areas of the coat--the shoulders and front collar by using a longer, thicker, lighter area there. For functionality and comfort, I wanted thinner areas under the arms--that area didn't need to be thick for warmth, and it would be easier to move the arms if they weren't encased in massive cocoons of fur. I also wanted to place the hump on the coat where it would have been on the animal--between the shoulder blades on the back. All the fur needed to point down to shed snow. I wanted to keep the option of using the natural edge of the hide on the bottom in lieu of hemming it, and I wanted to use the longer dark guard hair to fall over the wrists--negating the need to hem the cuffs. Finally the biggest consideration of all was that all the pieces needed to all fit on the two hides.

The hides were the winter coats of two bulls. One of them was pristine. It was the work of art that I mentioned earlier in this post. But the other one... I'm not sure why I picked the other one except that it called to me. The tale of sourcing and handpicking the hides is a story for another day, but I mention the condition of the hides now as it added the final frosting on the complexity of the design. 

The second hide had many scuffed and scarred areas down the flanks and around the legs. It was clearly from an old bull who had lived a long life, owned his environment, claimed his place, and dominated his herd. The more I looked this hide, the more I wanted to honor that life in Dave's coat. So I decided that, rather than only use the unmarred areas of the hide, I would incorporate the scuffs and scars to show how badass he had been. 

Finally, pattern laid out, it was time to cut. I didn't even try to pin the pattern pieces to the hide. Instead I laid them on the tanned back side and traced around them with tailor's chalk, Then I used a furrier's knife--a handled tool loaded with a cut-down, double-edged, super-sharp razor blade--to delicately slice through just the hide. I didn't cut the fur, instead pulling it gently apart as I separated the pieces. It took two days, and I am thrilled with the way all the pieces came together. Luck and skill. Luck and skill.

Next up: Let the sewing begin!