Why Knot?

A piece written by Ruth O'Neill

More than twenty years ago, I took my first class at Canada Beading Supply, an introduction to knotting. I’ve heard many people call this “pearl knotting” because it’s traditional to string pearls on silk with knots between them, but the technique is also wonderful for gemstone beads.

Barbara Boyes was teaching that class, and at the beginning of it, she told us that there were three reasons to knot between beads. Should a necklace break, only one or two beads would fall, instead of all the beads cascading onto the floor. The knots between the beads prevented them from rubbing against each other and being damaged, especially important for softer materials. And a knotted necklace has a more graceful, fluid drape to it. Now we are fortunate to have very flexible bead stringing wire available to us, with no danger of kinking like the old tiger tail, so I’ve made necklaces that I’ve been very happy with on bead stringing wire when the beads or the pattern weren’t suitable for knotting, but after a while I could spot that extra touch of elegance in a knotted necklace from across the room. To me, it was worth the extra time whenever it was possible.

A few years later, I discovered a fourth reason. I had left a necklace of faceted beads on the kitchen table, and when I walked by it later, it was in a patch of sunlight, sparkling like crazy. The extra separation between the beads meant that the light could reach more of the bead surfaces.

The variety of beads that can be knotted is amazing. I have knotted seed pearls to excellent effect. (It took size B silk and a light touch.) Later, I had the opportunity to do a restring of a necklace made from huge labradorite beads. They were at least an inch long each, flat and faceted. The holes were large enough to require extra strands of silk for the knots, but it came out extremely well and the client was pleased. Plus I was super happy to have the chance to work with such unusual, gorgeous beads.

I don’t knot just for the practical reasons, though. 

The thread can be a fun design element. I once did a necklace for someone who loves Halloween, that included some black onyx nuggets the store had brought in. Instead of black silk, I used the bright purple that has become one of the Halloween colours. The effect was subtle, but attractive.

I thoroughly enjoy the process. The soft silk feels lovely, it’s pleasant to look at the rich colours, and I have often described the rhythm of adding the beads and tying the knots as meditative. The particular technique taught at the store makes it easy to get each knot placed close to the bead, which is very satisfying. 

A little while ago, I went on a bead retreat with some friends. My day job had been extra intense for months, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt calm. I had been coaching someone who had just started knotting, and she had gotten her thread tangled a couple of times. I assured her that once she had a bit of practice, she would get used to managing the thread and tangles wouldn’t be a problem after a while. But a little later, when I was working on my own piece, I started paying close attention to what I was doing, to see if I could find any tips to offer. It was going to be a long necklace, so there was extra silk to manage. I realized that to prevent tangles, I was using large, slow, deliberate motions, letting the thread fall gently into layers so it could be lifted up again without twisting around itself when it was time for the next bead. I took care not to rush pulling the thread through the beads or through the loops of the knots.

More importantly for me personally, though, I noticed that my breathing was slowing down along with my movements, which was helping me to finally, truly, relax the way I needed. 

So while the practical reasons for using this traditional technique are perfectly valid, these are mine:

For beauty. 

For joy.

For peace.