Lace Antique Frame Replicas Orchids Unicycle Wheel Hubs
Lace began as a fringe fabric. Back in the middle ages, it was handcrafted by european women to trim fashion finery. The ladies' fingers got a break with the advent of lace-making equipment in the 19th century. With mass production, lace moved from the fringe to the mainstream. In the material world, lace used to be a luxury, handcrafted for decorative rather than practical reasons. Machines now produce lace quickly, and you don't have to be wealthy to afford it. To manufacture lace, hundreds of nylon and polyester threads unwind simultaneously into a separator. It arranges the threads in a configuration for manufacturing and keeps them from tangling as they move forward. To maintain the formation, the the threads pass through a comb-like apparatus. Still in that neat configuration, the threads wind around a large spool. This spool is known as a ground beam because the threads on it will be used for the lace's ground, or mesh. These smaller spools supply the threads for the pattern. They all unwind into the lace-making machine, which will interweave them to create a pattern on the ground. Here's how it happens. A long thick card with holes punched into it defines the pattern and guides a system of hooks and needles. It's called a jacquard card, and the technology has been around for two centuries and was actually the inspiration for computer technology. Each hole on the card corresponds to one hook, and the hooks are attached to these guide bars. If the hook encounters a hole in the jacquard card, it loops a thread, and if it encounters the solid card, it stops. The guide bars shuffle back and forth to move the hooks in concert with needles and weave the design on the ground. This is the lace-weaving action in slow motion. The punch-card system allows for the same pattern to be woven repeatedly without error. It's all perfectly choreographed, and this complex lace design comes together quickly with no snarls. The result is a thing of beauty-- an intricate floral pattern on a mesh background. The lace rolls by inspectors, who scrutinize the needlework for flaws. It then heads into a station with high-speed knives. They cut the loose threads that run between the floral patterns on the front of the lace. A worker finishes the job by hand, removing what the knives miss. Here you can see the difference the trimming makes. The mesh between the needlework is now completely transparent. They mend the lace when needed, and then it's into a dying machine to add some color. After rinsing, the now bright-yellow lace travels over bars under tension to wring out the water. The lace, still damp, lands and accumulates in a bin, which they wheel over to a finishing machine. The finishing machine is equipped with rollers. The first ones remove the curl from the lace. The others take it through a chemical bath for a treatment that both softens the lace and prevents shrinkage. A trip through a dryer removes the water from the fabric and cures the finishing chemicals. Now complete, the lace exits onto a network of rollers. The final one swings the fabric to and fro so that it lands neatly folded for transfer to the packaging line. Heavy industrial machinery has produced this delicate lace in a matter of minutes. They roll it and wrap it, and it's on its way to the fabric store or another factory. No ordinary textile, the factory-made lace will add beauty to things of necessity like curtains, a tablecloth, or a dress. Its sheer good looks will add visual appeal to these ordinary items. It's important that the frame around a painting be stylistically consistent with the period in which the artist created the work. When you're dealing with a centuries-old painting, however, the original frame has often been replaced with a newer one. The solution is commissioning an historically accurate antique replica. When a painting's original frame is lost, a specialist can produce an exact replica or a historically accurate alternative. Basswood is the wood of choice because it's relatively soft and even-grained. First, they saw the length required for the frame. Then they plane the sides to smooth the rough edges. Next, they saw the piece to the required dimensions. Once pieces for all four sides of the frame are cut, workers set up a machine called a molding planer. As its contoured steel blade spins, they run each piece against it, carving the blade's profile into the wood. The workshop has thousand of blades, each with a different profile. They all began as a flat bar of steel, which the shop milled to shape following a profile drawing. Once each side is contoured, workers saw the ends at 45-degree angles... Then cut a slot in each one. They spread glue in the slot and over the entire surface, then insert a beechwood biscuit. The biscuit goes in just halfway. They insert the other half into the glued slot of the adjoining frame piece. Once the glue dries, the master carver gets to work. With a pencil, he draws the frame's design onto tracing paper, then lays the paper upside down on the replica and retraces the design, which transfers it in graphite onto the frame surface. Then he turns to his arsenal of 40-plus chisels and begins carving out the design. Each chisel has a different shape and sized tip and therefore makes a very specific type of cut. He first cuts straight down along the outline to sever the wood grain. This prevents the angled cuts, which follow, from splitting the wood beyond the outline. Interchanging chisels, he repeatedly removes small chunks of wood until the design emerges. He clears away the wood chips with a wire brush. Now the master gilder takes over, brushing on up to 20 coats of gesso-- a traditional mixture of water, calcium carbonate, and a very flexible glue made from rabbit skin. Flexibility prevents cracking when the wood expands and contracts. He brushes on four coats of another traditional mixture called bole. The ingredients-- ultra-fine particle clay, water, and, again, rabbit-skin glue. Bole provides background colors. It also provides a cushion between the gesso layer and the gold leaf. Next, a coat of what's called gilder's liquor-- a combination of water, alcohol, and either gelatin or rabbit-skin glue. Then he cuts a piece of gold leaf-- a sheet of genuine gold a mere 1/10,000 of a millimeter thick. He applies it with a fine brush made of squirrel hair, which he has lightly oiled. As soon as he taps the frame, the water in the gilder's liquor grabs the gold leaf, pulling it away from the oil, adhering it to the bristles. This is the tricky part, because too much oil on the brush or too little water in the gilder's liquor can hinder this delicate transfer. Next, the master gilder rubs select areas with a polished agate, a natural stone. This burnishing process compresses the gold leaf, making it smooth and shiny. Now he'll make the frame look old. He removes some gold from the high points to create the appearance of wear. Then he applies a tinted glaze to simulate patina-- natural darkening that develops over time due to the accumulation of airborne dust and dirt. He works in the glaze with a brush to distribute it strategically so that the fake patina looks perfectly natural. For this frame, he uses 23-karat gold leaf. Gilders will also use 6-, 12-, 14, 18-, and 22-karat leaf to achieve different shades of gold. The higher the karat, the yellower the color, due to the greater proportion of gold in the composition and lesser proportion of copper and silver alloys. Orchids are a standout. Their exquisite beauty even caused a frenzy in the mid-19th century when wealthy british collectors hired orchid hunters to search the world for new species. Today, the fascination with orchids continues, and cultivating them is a growing industry. In thailand, orchids grow wild, but the wild orchids have been tamed. They've been hybridized and domesticated to satisfy a global demand for this fantastic flower. At this farm, cultivation starts with bud cuttings, mixed with nutrients and water in glass bottle. The bottle provides a germ-free growing environment, keeping the cuttings disease-free as they grow into baby orchids. This takes a year or more. When the plants have developed a strong root system, they're ready to come out into the world. The worker deposits the baby orchids in a tub of clean water and swishes each one around to give their roots a good rinse. She transfers the baby orchids to a perforated plastic basket. A wad of coconut fiber soaked in water provides the next growing environment. The worker places the roots of each baby plant in one of the wads. She wraps the fiber snuggly and ties the wad. She places the fiber-wrapped orchids in growing cells. The team waters and fertilizes them for four to six months. The orchids grow to midsize, and the plant's root system flourishes. The plants are now ready for the next phase of growth. They transfer the mid-sized orchids to coconut husks. The husks act as a kind of plant pot and growing media in one. They absorb water to provide a constant supply to the plants. The plants grow on the husks. No soil is needed. In nature, orchids flourish on tree bark or cracks in rocks, and coconut husks are the next best thing. Overhead, a nylon-fabric roof diffuses sunlight to simulate conditions found in a shady rainforest. Too much light and the heat would harm the plants. Gardeners regularly observe the growth of the orchids. They're on the lookout for disease or other problems. Not all of the plants will thrive. They'll lose about 10% of the crop. They fertilize and water the orchids over a period of several months. Many of the plants are hybrids, created by crossing species to achieve a certain color or shape or to improve the plant's vigor. With thousands of species available in nature, the potential combinations are never-ending, and the results are always stunning. With the orchids in full bloom, it's time for the harvest. Workers cut the orchids at the base of the stems, with an eye to making them approximately the same length. In the packing room, they tweak the length of the stems until each bunch is perfectly uniform. They make this final cut on an angle. This creates a larger surface for absorbing water so the orchid will stay fresh longer. They sort the flowers by the size of the bloom. They insert the stems in plastic capsules that contain a flower-food and water mixture. This should maintain the orchids' freshness during shipping. It's time to wrap up each stunning display. The plastic sleeve will preserve them on the journey ahead. This particular orchid is a hybrid species known as mokara. Extremely desirable, cut mokara orchids should bloom for up to three weeks. En route to the airport in a climate-controlled truck, they'll soon be on an international flight. Thai orchids are sold around the world. Chances are they'll end up at the center of a big event in someone's life, and whether it's a wedding or a birthday, these stunning orchids will add something special to the party. The key part of a wheel is its hub, the central point to which all the spokes attach. It's comprised of a body which receives the spokes and houses an axle and bearings. If the wheel has a gear system, then those gears and a clutch are also integrated into the hub. This is the only commercially available unicycle with a gearing system. Located on the wheel hub, it enables the rider to push a button to shift from regular gear into high gear and reach 25 miles per hour-- twice the speed of a regular unicycle. The geared wheel hub contains six identical small gears, rotating around a large central gear. The central one is called the sun wheel and the small ones, planetary gears, because they revolve around the central gear the way planets revolve around the sun. Each of the small gears begins as a disk-shaped steel blank. A conventional, 1950s-era gear-cutting machine cuts teeth into it as a shower of oil washes away the shards of metal. The oil also cools and lubricates the tool so that it doesn't overheat or jam. After about 30 seconds of machining, the blank is a fully shaped gear. An even older machine, circa 1930, mills a larger blank into the central gear. However, because this gear is bigger, cutting the teeth into it takes much longer--  about two minutes. Once all the gears are machined, they, along with the hub's other steel components, undergo a complex heat-treatment process to strengthen the steel. Elsewhere in the factory, workers assemble the two halves of the clutch, the component which locks into regular or high gear when the rider shifts. Using a cylindrical tool called a broach, the machine grooves in the center of the clutch. Slots on the axle will fit into these grooves. Next, they unscrew the two halves of the clutch and mount eight hollow pins in each one. In one half, they also install three longer alignment pins and a greased spring inside each hollow pin. Then they thread the two halves of the clutch onto the axle, aligning the axle slots in the clutch's grooves and the pins on one half with corresponding pins and holes on the other. After fastening the halves together once again, they mount the six planetary gears on a ring called the planet carrier, then install it on the axle. The spring-loaded pins on the clutch click into corresponding slots on the planet carrier. These slots are engineered to fit the pins with no more than . 01 millimeters of clearance. After securing the planet carrier to the axle with a retaining clip, they insert ball bearings with a spring in two holes on opposite sides of the axle. A retaining ring holds these spring-loaded bearings in place. Meanwhile, a laser engraver etches the company logo and product identification on the wheel-hub body. The body is made of high-strength aluminum that's undergone an electrochemical treatment to make it corrosion-resistant. They mount the hub body on a hydraulic press and insert the sun wheel, surrounded by a large ball bearing. Then they activate the press, which forces the sun wheel into the body. They install the body on the axle, positioning the sun wheel right in the center of the planetary gears. A cover protects the gears from dust, dirt, and precipitation. On the opposite end of the body, they install additional bearings and affix a cover with nine screws. Now the shift buttons-- a chrome-plated one for shifting down, a gold-plated one for shifting up. Both screw into a shaft running through the center of the axle. The two spring-loaded bearings workers inserted in the axle earlier hold that shaft in place. This cross-section model shows how everything comes together. The shift button moves the shaft, which moves the clutch to lock into the selected gear. In regular gear, pedaling one revolution makes the wheel turn one revolution. When the rider shifts to high gear, pedaling one revolution makes the wheel turn 1 1/2 revolutions. The unicycle moves 50% further as a result of the same action. Riders use the regular gear for climbing and the higher gear for flat or downhill terrain. They hit the shift button with their heel or ankle while pedaling-- a quick, slight movement that won't throw them off balance.