Going from crocheting to weaving is so interesting. A crochet hook is a small tool like a pencil or a screwdriver, and I have dozens at this point, in various sizes. There are some hooks that I have some attachment to, but any of them could break or get lost and I would mostly consider it an inconvenience. I respect the creativity of crocheters in the myriad of ways they use the simple hook, but I can't really fathom respecting the hook itself.
My 16 inch rigid-heddle loom is relatively small and simple compared to other looms but it's so clearly not just a tool but a machine. It has so many parts, which I had to polish and assemble by hard — and assembled, it has a strange sort of life to it, a kind of character. In the first couple dozen of hours I've spent weaving, it feels less like I'm using the loom to achieve the task, in the way I might use a hook to crochet, but that I'm working with it, learning and respecting the quirks of this particular machine. It's hard not to feel strangely intimate with something I set on my lap and lean over for hours and hours, of something hefty, wooden, and complex but capable of making something so beautiful and fine.
