The Four Languages of Rigid Heddle Loom Patterns

There's a moment every new weaver faces: You've found the perfect pattern online - a gorgeous twill scarf, maybe, or a table runner with that zigzag everyone seems to be making - and you're staring at what looks like a crossword puzzle designed by someone who really hates you.

⬜⬛⬜⬛ with a note that says "threading" below it. Then ⬛⬜⬛⬜ labeled "treadling." Sometimes there's a grid. Sometimes there's just a sentence: "8-dent, tabby with 3-1 pickup." You're pretty sure those are English words, but arranged in that order, they might as well be hieroglyphics.

Here's the thing about rigid heddle loom patterns: they were never standardized. Floor loom patterns evolved a common notation system over centuries - the kind of formal structure you get when professional weavers need to communicate across guilds and continents. Rigid heddle looms? They were the folk instruments. Everyone developed their own shorthand.

Then the internet happened. Suddenly that notation your grandmother used in her living room in Wisconsin is sitting next to someone's Instagram grid from Sweden next to a PDF from a weaving supplier in New Zealand. They're all calling themselves "rigid heddle patterns" and they all use completely different languages to describe exactly the same thing.

The pattern you're holding probably uses one of four major notation systems, plus whatever personal quirks the designer decided made sense. Some are more visual. Some are more verbal. None of them are wrong, exactly. They're just... incompatible.

Let's decode them.

Quick Reference: The Four Systems

Before diving into details, here's what you're likely looking at:

What You See	System Name	Common In	Best For
Grid of black/white squares with "threading" and "treadling" labels	Profile Draft	Handwoven magazine, Scandinavian books	Seeing pattern structure at a glance
Paragraph text like "Thread 2 slots, 1 hole, repeat"	Written-Out Method	Ravelry, beginner books, YouTube tutorials	Following step-by-step without theory
Photos with arrows/circles showing hand positions	Photo Grid	Instagram, Pinterest, blog posts	Visual learners, simple patterns
Number sequences like "1-1-2-1-1-2"	Number-Based Notation	European software, weaving programs	Spotting repeats, compact documentation

The Profile Draft System

This is the one that looks like a crossword puzzle. It originated with floor loom patterns and got adapted for rigid heddle use, which is sort of like translating Shakespeare into emoji - technically possible, but something gets lost.

A profile draft shows two things: threading (which slots and holes your yarn goes through) and treadling (which position your heddle is in for each pass). The threading appears as a horizontal sequence across the top. Black squares mean "hole," white squares mean "slot." Sometimes designers reverse this. There's no rule.

Patterns using profile drafts typically specify how many ends (another term for warp threads) you'll need and at what density. You might see "sley 1 per hole and slot in a 12-dent reed" - sley being the technical verb for threading density, though most weavers just say "thread it."

Below that, you'll see the treadling sequence - a vertical column showing heddle positions for each row you weave. One square = one pass of the shuttle. The pattern repeats vertically, so you read from bottom to top, then start over. Or top to bottom. Depends who made it.

Here's where it gets weird: some profile drafts include a tie-up grid in the corner. This made sense for floor looms with multiple shafts you could lift in combinations. For rigid heddles, which have exactly three positions (up, neutral, down), a tie-up grid is like including a steering wheel diagram in bicycle instructions. It persists because people copy the format without questioning why.

The Handwoven magazine uses profile drafts almost exclusively. So do most Scandinavian pattern books. Once you learn to read them, they're information-dense - you can see the entire pattern structure at a glance. But they require you to already understand what "hole" and "slot" mean in terms of shed creation, which most beginners don't.

The Written-Out Method

This notation reads like stage directions: "Thread 2 slots, 1 hole, 2 slots, 1 hole, repeat across width. Weave: Heddle up, 2 passes. Heddle neutral, pick up every 4th thread, 1 pass. Heddle down, 2 passes. Repeat."

It's verbose. It's unambiguous. You can follow it step-by-step without understanding the underlying structure, which makes it popular in beginner books and YouTube tutorials. These patterns often include practical details like "weave 1 inch scrap yarn between projects" or "measure 26 inches in loom" (meaning on the loom before washing, since fabric shrinks). The problem is that written instructions for a 200-thread warp can run to several pages, and if you lose your place, you're screwed.

Some designers use abbreviations to compress things: "U2, N(p4), D2, rep." This assumes you know U=up, N=neutral, D=down, p4=pick up every 4th thread, rep=repeat. Except nobody standardized the abbreviations, so one designer's "p4" might be another's "pu4" or "pickup 1/4" or just a footnote saying "see pickup stick pattern A."

Ravelry patterns use written-out method most frequently, probably because it translates well across languages - the structure stays clear even if you're working through Google Translate from Finnish. The trade-off is file size. A complex pattern can run to 20 pages of text where a profile draft would fit on one.

The Photo Grid Documentation

Instagram and Pinterest spawned this one. It's not notation so much as visual evidence: photographs of the threading sequence, the pickup stick position, the heddle lifted, the shed created. Sometimes annotated with arrows and circles. Sometimes just captioned "do this."

The advantage is obvious - you can see exactly what the weaver is doing. The disadvantage is also obvious - you're trying to replicate someone's hand position from a 2D image, and good luck figuring out if that thread is going over or under the pickup stick from a phone screen.

Photo grids work brilliantly for simple patterns with clear visual structure. Stripes, color blocks, basic pickup - you can figure out the logic from looking. For anything complex, you're essentially reverse-engineering someone's process, which is how regional weaving techniques used to spread before literacy, but it's not what you'd call efficient.

Some weavers combine photo documentation with written steps, which is arguably the best system for beginners. "Thread two slots, one hole" plus a photo of what that looks like on the loom eliminates ambiguity. But it's labor-intensive to produce, so most published patterns skip it.

The Number-Based Threading Notation

This is the mathematician's approach: represent the threading as a number sequence. "1-1-2-1-1-2-1-1-2" where 1=slot and 2=hole. Or sometimes 0 and 1, because of course there's no standard for which number means what.

Some patterns combine this with color coding for multi-color warps: "A-36, B-6, C-24" meaning 36 ends of color A, 6 of color B, 24 of color C. It's a threading chart compressed into a single line.

It's compact. You can fit an entire threading sequence in a single line. The pattern logic becomes immediately apparent - you can see repeats, mirror points, symmetry. For anyone who thinks in code or formal systems, number notation is elegant.

For everyone else, it's like reading binary. Your brain has to translate each number back into a physical action, and after about 30 characters, your eyes glaze over. One transposition error - reading a 2 as a 1 - and your entire pattern shifts wrong.

European weaving software uses number notation extensively. The programs generate patterns as numeric sequences, sometimes with color coding: black numbers for holes, gray for slots. This works when you're looking at a screen. Less well when you've printed it out and your printer decided gray should be "light gray that's almost invisible."

The Heddle Position Shorthand

Then there's the system that just tells you heddle positions: "U-N-D-N-U-N-D-N" meaning up-neutral-down-neutral repeating. This assumes you already know your threading and you're just documenting the treadling sequence.

It's maximally compressed information. It's also maximally useless if you don't have the threading diagram separately, which is why most patterns that use heddle position shorthand also include either a profile draft or written threading instructions. The pattern becomes two-part: here's how to thread it, here's how to weave it.

Ashford instruction booklets use this system a lot. So do the project sheets that come with rigid heddle looms. It keeps the documentation short, which matters when you're printing instructions on a 4×6 card to include in a box with a loom.

The Color-Coding Complication

Some patterns, particularly for multi-heddle work, add color coding to show which heddle is which. Heddle A threads in blue, heddle B in red. Or colors indicate yarn color, not heddle position. Or they indicate pattern blocks. Or all three at once.

There's no universal color system. One designer's red might mean "heddle 2" while another's red means "merino yarn." You have to check the key. Always. Even if the pattern looks self-explanatory, check the key, because designers get creative and it's not always obvious.

The worst offenders are patterns that use colored squares in a grid without explaining whether the colors represent threading, yarn choice, weave structure, or just aesthetic preference. You'll see a beautiful multicolor grid and think "I can figure this out" and then spend three hours realizing the colors meant nothing and the actual pattern was in the written instructions you skipped.

Symbol Sets for Pickup Patterns

Pickup stick patterns - where you manually lift specific threads to create designs - have their own symbol language. A circle might mean "pick up this thread." A dot might mean "leave it down." An X might mean "twist it." Or circles might mean holes, squares might mean slots, and pickup threads are shown with arrows.

Some designers draw actual stick positions: a horizontal line over the threads you're supposed to pick up. Others show the resulting shed as a side view. Others give you a graph-paper diagram where filled squares are the threads you lift. All three systems are describing the same action, none of them look alike.

Jennifer Moore's pickup pattern books use one system. Liz Gipson uses another. They're both clear within their own contexts. Put them side by side and you'd think they were different techniques entirely.

The Metric vs Imperial Confusion

This isn't notation exactly, but it matters: pattern measurements use either metric or imperial, rarely both, often without specifying which. "8 dent" is imperial - 8 threads per inch. "3 threads per centimeter" is metric. They're not the same number, but some patterns say "8 dent (3/cm)" as if that's a conversion. It's not. 8 threads per inch is actually 3.15 threads per centimeter.

Ashford looms, made in New Zealand, measure in metric but market internationally, so their patterns often include both. Schacht looms, made in the US, stick to imperial. European patterns assume metric. Nobody warns you which system they're using until you've warped your loom wrong.

The dent size itself is usually clear enough - reeds are labeled. The problem is when patterns call for "8 wraps per inch" or "worsted weight" or other density measurements that don't directly translate to dent numbers. You end up doing conversions, and conversions introduce error.

Software-Generated Patterns

Weaving software - programs like Fiberworks, WeaveIt, or the free options like Gridweaver - outputs patterns in its own formats. Some generate profile drafts. Some produce number sequences. Some create custom symbols that look like nothing you've seen before.

The software usually includes a legend, which helps, but these patterns assume you're familiar with computer-aided design conventions. Threading reads left to right because that's how spreadsheets work, even though most weavers thread right to left. Colors indicate pattern blocks according to some internal logic that made sense to the programmer.

When someone shares a software-generated pattern as a PDF, you get whatever export format the program used. Sometimes that's clean and readable. Sometimes it's a screenshot of a screen with toolbars and menus still visible. Sometimes it's technically accurate but completely impenetrable unless you own the same software.

The Hybrid Monsters

The worst patterns to decode are the ones that mix systems without explanation. Written instructions that suddenly include a profile draft for one section. Photo documentation with occasional number sequences. Heddle position codes embedded in paragraph text.

This happens most often with designer patterns sold on Etsy or through individual websites. Someone develops their own notation over years of personal use, then tries to share it publicly without realizing their system isn't universal. The pattern works perfectly - if you already think like that particular designer.

Or it happens when someone translates a pattern from another language and keeps parts of the original notation while converting others. You get instructions in English that reference "pic" (French for "pass") or "tabby" (English term) used interchangeably with "leinwandbindung" (German for plain weave) because the translator wasn't consistent.

What Actually Matters

Here's the thing: all these notation systems work. Weavers create gorgeous textiles using profile drafts, written instructions, photo grids, number sequences, whatever. The notation isn't the limiting factor. Understanding what the notation represents - that's what matters.

A profile draft only makes sense if you understand shed formation. Number notation only helps if you can visualize the threading pattern. Photo documentation only works if you can translate 2D images into 3D hand positions. The notation is just shorthand for concepts you need to understand anyway.

Most experienced rigid heddle weavers can read multiple systems, not because they memorized every possible symbol, but because they understand the underlying structure. They look at any pattern and ask: What's the threading sequence? What's the treadling sequence? Are there pickup elements? Once you know what information you're looking for, the notation becomes navigable.

The Pattern Key

Every pattern should include a key explaining its notation. Most do. Some don't, usually because the designer assumed their system was obvious. It never is.

Before you start threading, find the key. If there isn't one, figure out what system the pattern is using - look at the symbols, the language, the structure. Compare it to patterns you've seen before. Google the designer's name plus "pattern notation" and see if they've explained their system elsewhere.

If you can't decode it, ask. Ravelry forums are full of people who can identify notation systems from a single screenshot. The rigid heddle weaving groups on Facebook have members who've seen every possible variation. Most designers respond to polite questions about their patterns.

The alternative is guessing, which is how you end up with a scarf that's somehow inside out.

Learning to Read Patterns

The best way to understand rigid heddle notation is to work through patterns in multiple systems. Start simple - plain weave patterns, basic stripes, uncomplicated pickup. See how different designers document the same structure.

Pay attention to what information you actually need. Some notations include details that don't affect your weaving. Others omit things you'll wish you knew. After a few patterns, you'll develop a sense of what matters and what's decorative.

Most weavers eventually settle on one or two preferred notation systems and seek out patterns in those formats. But understanding multiple systems means you can access the full range of published patterns, which is worth the learning curve.

If you're new to weaving entirely, beginner looms offer a simpler entry point before tackling the complexity of rigid heddle pattern notation.

The Future of Pattern Notation

There have been attempts to standardize rigid heddle notation. The Handweavers Guild of America publishes guidelines. Weaving magazines have style guides. It hasn't taken hold, partly because rigid heddle weaving remains decentralized - no single authority can enforce standards.

Digital patterns could theoretically solve this. Interactive PDFs, video demonstrations, augmented reality apps that overlay instructions onto your actual loom - the technology exists. So far, it hasn't replaced traditional notation, probably because weavers are used to working from paper and screens don't hold up well around looms covered in yarn dust.

The notation muddle persists because it's functional enough. Weavers adapt. They learn. They figure it out. Not ideal, maybe, but workable, which is sometimes all craft traditions need to survive.

Just check the key first.

Related Resources

Understanding pattern notation opens up access to thousands of published rigid heddle patterns. For more context on rigid heddle weaving equipment and techniques, see our guide to the best rigid heddle looms, which covers the equipment these patterns are designed for.

For practical information about matching yarns to patterns, yarn weights and rigid heddle dent sizes explains the measurement systems patterns reference when they specify threading density.

And if you're curious about what experienced weavers actually make after mastering pattern notation, common first projects on rigid heddle looms documents the progression most weavers follow from basic patterns to more complex structures.